The Complete Stories of Katherine Anne Porter

307 Pages·2012·2.84 MB·English

The Colllecteed Sttoriees

Pulittzer Prizee Winner
Ajaytao
TheCollectedStoriesof
KatherineAnnePorter
AHarvest/HBJBook
HarcourtBraceJovanovich
NewYorkandLondon
Copyright1930,1934,1935,1936,1937,1939,1940,1941,1944,©1958,1960,1963,1964,
1965,1967,1968,1969byKatherineAnnePorter
“VirginVioleta”©copyright1924byCenturyMagazine;copyrightrenewed1951,Meredith
PublishingCo.
“TheMartyr”©copyright1923byCenturyMagazine;copyrightrenewed1950,Meredith
PublishingCo.
“Hacienda”copyright1934byHarrisonofParisAllrightsreserved.Nopartof
thispublicationmaybereproducedor
transmittedinanyformorbyanymeans,
electronicormechanical,includingphotocopy,recording,oranyinformationstorageand
retrievalsystem,withoutpermission
inwritingfromthepublisher.
PrintedintheUnitedStatesofAmerica
LibraryofCongressCataloginginPublicationDataPorter,KatherineAnne,1894-1980
ThecollectedstoriesofKatherineAnnePorter.
(AHarvest/HBJbook)
I.Title.
[PZ3.P8315Cp1979][PS3531.0752]813’.5‘279-10398
ISBN0-15-618876-7
FirstHarvest/HBJedition1979
GoLittleBook…
Thiscollectionofstorieshasbeenfloatingaroundtheworldinmanyeditions,countriesand
languages,inthreesmallvolumes,formanyyears.Therearefourstoriesaddedwhichhave
neverbeencollectedbefore,anditisbymerehazardtheyarehereatall.
“TheFigTree,”nowinitsrightplaceinthesequencecalled TheOldOrder, simplydisappeared
atthetime TheLeaningTower waspublished,in1944,andreappearedagainfromaboxof
otherwiseunfinishedmanuscriptsinanotherhouse,anothercityandadifferentstate,in1961.
“Holiday”representsoneofmyprolongedstruggles,notwithquestionsofformorstyle,but
myownmoralandemotionalcollisionwithahumansituationIwastooyoungtocopewithat
thetimeitoccurred;yetthestoryhauntedmeforyearsandImadethreeseparateversions,
withacertainspotinallthreewherethethingwentofftrack.SoIputitawayandit
disappearedalso,andIforgotit.Itrosefromoneofmyboxesofpapers,afteraquarterofa
century,andIsatdowningreatexcitementtoreadallthreeversions.Isawatoncethatthe
firstwastherightone,andasforthevexingquestionwhichhadstoppedmeshortlongago,it
hadinthecourseoflivingsettleditselfsoslowlyanddeeplyandsecretlyIwonderedwhyIhad
everbeendistressedbyit.Ichangedoneshortparagraphandalineortwoattheendandit
wasdone.“MariaConception”wasmyfirstpublishedstory.Itwasfollowedby“VirginVioleta”
and
“TheMartyr,”allstoriesofMexico,mymuch-lovedsecondcountry,andtheywereeachinturn
acceptedandpublishedintheold CenturyMagazine, nowvanished,bygoodgenerous
sympatheticCarlVanDoren.Hewasthefirsteditor—indeed,thefirstperson
—toreadastoryofmine,andIrememberhowunhesitatinglyandwarmlyhesaid,“Ibelieve
youareawriter!”Thiswasin1923.
Severalwritersorpersonsconnectedwithliteratureinsomeway
KatherineAnnePorter
oranother,fromtimetotimeinpublishedreminiscences,havedonemethehonortomention
thattheyhad,sotospeak,“discovered”me.
Thereisnoreasontonamethem,butIshallonlysayhereandnow,tohavethebusiness
straight,itwasCarlVanDoren,giftedwriter,editorandresourcefulfriendtoyoungwriters,
whojustlightlytossedmystoriesintoprintandstartedmeonmylongcareer,withsuchanair
ofitbeingallintheday’swork,whichitwas,Iwentawayinadazzleofjoy,notintheleast
thinkingofmyselfas“discovered”—IhadknownwhereIwasallalong—
norlookingtowardsthefutureasa“career.”Whatunpleasantwordstheyareinthiscontext.
“VirginVioleta”and“TheMartyr”wereleftoutofthefirstedition,Iforgetwhy,possibly
oversight.Afriendfishedthemoutoftheancient Century files,gotthemre-published,after
forty-oddyears,andsotheyjointheirfellows.EverystoryIeverfinishedandpublishedishere.
Ibegofthereaderonegentlefavorforwhichhemaybesureofmyperpetualgratitude:please
donotcallmyshortnovels Novelettes, orevenworse, Novellas. Noveletteisclassicalusage
foratrivial,dime-novelsortofthing;Novellaisaslack,boneless,affectedwordthatwedonot
needtodescribeanything.Pleasecallmyworksbytheirrightnames:wehavefourthatcover
everydivision:shortstories,longstories,shortnovels,novels.Inowhaveexamplesofallfour
kindsundertheseheadings,andtheyseemveryclear,sufficient,andplainEnglish.,Topartisto
diealittle,itissaid(ineverylanguageIcanread),butmyfarewelltothesestoriesisahappy
one,arenewaloftheirlife,aprolongingoftheirtimeunderthesun,whichiswhatanyartist
mostlongsfor—toberead,andremembered.
Golittlebook….
KATHERINEANNEPORTER
14June1965
vi
Contents
GoLittleBook…v
FloweringJudasandOtherStories
MariaConception3
VirginVioleta22
TheMartyr33
Magic39
Rope42
He49
Theft59
ThatTree66
TheJiltingofGrannyWeatherall80
FloweringJudas90
TheCrackedLooking-Glass103
Hacienda135
PaleHorse,PaleRider
OldMortality173
NoonWine222
PaleHorse,PaleRider269
vii
Contents
TheLeaningTowerandOtherStories
TheOldOrder321
THESOURCE 321
THEJOURNEY 326
THEWITNESS 340
THECIRCUS 343
THELASTLEAF 348
THEFIGTREE 352
THEGRAVE 362
TheDownwardPathtoWisdom369
ADay’sWork388
Holiday407
TheLeaningTower436
viii
FloweringJudasandOtherStories
MariaConcepcion
MariaConcepcionwalkedcarefully,keepingtothemiddleofthewhitedustyroad,wherethe
magueythornsandthetreacherouscurvedspinesoforgancactushadnotgatheredso
profusely.Shewouldhaveenjoyedrestingforamomentinthedarkshadebytheroadside,but
shehadnotimetowastedrawingcactusneedlesfromherfeet.Juanandhischiefwouldbe
waitingfortheirfoodinthedamptrenchesoftheburiedcity.
Shecarriedaboutadozenlivingfowlsslungoverherrightshoulder,theirfeetfastened
together.Halfofthemfellupontheflatofherback,thebalancedangleduneasilyoverher
breast.
Theywriggledtheirbenumbedandswollenlegsagainstherneck,theytwistedtheirstupefied
eyesandpeeredintoherfaceinquiringly.Shedidnotseethemorthinkofthem.Herleftarm
wastiredwiththeweightofthefoodbasket,andshewashungryafterherlongmorning’s
work.
Herstraightbackoutlineditselfstronglyunderhercleanbrightbluecottonrebozo.Instinctive
serenitysoftenedherblackeyes,shapedlikealmonds,setfarapart,andtiltedabitendwise.
Shewalkedwiththefree,natural,guardedeaseoftheprimitivewomancarryinganunborn
child.Theshapeofherbodywaseasy,theswellinglifewasnotadistortion,buttheright
inevitableproportionsofawoman.Shewasentirelycontented.Herhusbandwasatworkand
shewasonherwaytomarkettosellherfowls.
Hersmallhousesathalf-wayupashallowhill,underaclumpofpepper-trees,awalloforgan
cactusenclosingitonthesidenearesttotheroad.Nowshecamedownintothevalley,divided
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KatherineAnnePorter
bythenarrowspring,andcrossedabridgeofloosestonesnearthehutwhereMariaRosathe
beekeeperlivedwithheroldgod-mother,Lupethemedicinewoman.MariaConcepcionhadno
faithinthecharredowlbones,thesingedrabbitfur,thecaten-trails,themessesand
ointmentssoldbyLupetotheailingofthevillage.ShewasagoodChristian,anddranksimple
herbteasforheadacheandstomachache,orboughtherremediesbottled,withprinted
directionsthatshecouldnotread,atthedrugstorenearthecitymarket,whereshewent
almostdaily.ButsheoftenboughtajarofhoneyfromyoungMariaRosa,apretty,shychild
onlyfifteenyearsold.
MariaConcepcionandherhusband,JuanVillegas,wereeachalittlepasttheireighteenthyear.
Shehadagoodreputationwiththeneighborsasanenergeticreligiouswomanwhocoulddrive
abargaintotheend.Itwascommonlyknownthatifshewishedtobuyanewrebozoforherself
orashirtforJuan,shecouldbringoutasackofhardsilvercoinsforthepurpose.
Shehadpaidforthelicense,nearlyayearago,thepotentbitofstampedpaperwhichpermits
peopletobemarriedinthechurch.ShehadgivenmoneytothepriestbeforesheandJuan
walkedtogetheruptothealtartheMondayafterHolyWeek.Ithadbeentheadventureofthe
villagerstogo,threeSundaysoneafteranother,tohearthebannscalledbythepriestforJuan
deDiosVillegasandMariaConcepcionManriquez,whowereactuallygettingmarriedinthe
church,insteadofbehindit,whichwastheusualcustom,lessexpensive,andasbindingasany
otherceremony.ButMariaConcepcionwasalwaysasproudasifsheownedahacienda.
Shepausedonthebridgeanddabbledherfeetinthewater,hereyesrestingthemselvesfrom
thesun-raysinafixedgazetothefar-offmountains,deeplyblueundertheirhangingdriftof
clouds.Itcametoherthatshewouldlikeafreshcrustofhoney.
Thedeliciousaromaofbees,theirslowthrillinghum,awakenedapleasantdesireforaflakeof
sweetnessinhermouth.
“IfIdonoteatitnow,Ishallmarkmychild,”shethought,peeringthroughthecrevicesinthe
thickhedgeofcactusthatsheeredupnakedly,likebaredknifebladessetprotectinglyaround
thesmallclearing.TheplacewassosilentshedoubtedifMariaRosaandLupewereathome.
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MariaConcepcion
Theleaningjacalofdriedrush-withesandcornsheaves,boundtotallsaplingsthrustintothe
earth,roofedwithyellowedmagueyleavesflattenedandoverlappinglikeshingles,hunched
drowsyandfragrantinthewarmthofnoonday.Thehives,similarlymade,werescattered
towardsthebackoftheclearing,likesmallmoundsofcleanvegetablerefuse.Overeach
moundtherehungadustygoldenshimmerofbees.
Alightgayscreamoflaughterrosefrombehindthehut;aman’sshortlaughjoinedin.“Ah,
hahahaha!”wentthevoicestogetherhighandlow,likeasong.
“SoMariaRosahasaman!”MariaConcepcionstoppedshort,smiling,shiftedherburden
slightly,andbentforwardshadinghereyestoseemoreclearlythroughthespacesofthe
hedge.
MariaRosaran,dodgingbetweenbeehives,partingtwostuntedjasminebushesasshecame,
liftingherkneesinswiftleaps,lookingoverhershoulderandlaughinginaquivering,excited
way.
Aheavyjar,swungtoherwristbythehandle,knockedagainstherthighsassheran.Hertoes
pushedupsuddenspurtsofdust,herhalf-raveledbraidsshoweredaroundhershouldersin
longcrinkledwisps.
JuanVillegasranafterher,alsolaughingstrangely,histeethset,bothrowsgleamingbehindthe
smallsoftblackbeardgrowingsparselyonhislips,hischin,leavinghisbrowncheeksgirl-
smooth.Whenheseizedher,heclenchedsohardherchemisegavewayandrippedfromher
shoulder.Shestoppedlaughingatthis,pushedhimawayandstoodsilent,tryingtopullupthe
tornsleevewithonehand.Herpointedchinanddarkredmouthmovedinanuncertainway,as
ifshewishedtolaughagain;herlongblacklashesflickeredwiththequick-movinglightsinher
hiddeneyes.
MariaConcepciondidnotstirnorbreatheforsomeseconds.
Herforeheadwascold,andyetboilingwaterseemedtobepouringslowlyalongherspine.An
unaccountablepainwasinherknees,asiftheywerebroken.ShewasafraidJuanandMaria
Rosawouldfeelhereyesfixeduponthemandwouldfindherthere,unabletomove,spying
uponthem.Buttheydidnotpassbeyondtheenclosure,norevenglancetowardsthegapinthe
wallopeningupontheroad.
JuanliftedoneofMariaRosa’sloosenedbraidsandslapped 5
KatherineAnnePorter
herneckwithitplayfully.Shesmiledsoftly,consentingly.Togethertheymovedbackthrough
thehivesofhoney-comb.MariaRosabalancedherjarononehipandswungherlongfull
petticoatswitheverystep.Juanflourishedhiswidehatbackandforth,walkingproudlyasa
game-cock.
MariaConcepcioncameoutoftheheavycloudwhichen-wrappedherheadandboundher
throat,andfoundherselfwalkingonward,keepingtheroadwithoutknowingit,feelingherway
delicately,herearsstrummingasifallMariaRosa’sbeeshadhivedinthem.Hercarefulsense
ofdutykepthermovingtowardtheburiedcitywhereJuan’schief,theAmericanarchaeologist,
wastakinghismiddayrest,waitingforhisfood.
JuanandMariaRosa!Sheburnedallovernow,asifalayeroftinyfig-cactusbristles,ascruelas
spunglass,hadcrawledunderherskin.Shewishedtositdownquietlyandwaitforherdeath,
butnotuntilshehadcutthethroatsofhermanandthatgirlwhowerelaughingandkissing
underthecornstalks.Oncewhenshewasayounggirlshehadcomebackfrommarkettofind
herjacalburnedtoapileofashandherfewsilvercoinsgone.Adarkemptyfeelinghadfilled
her;shekeptmovingabouttheplace,notbelievinghereyes,expectingitalltotakeshape
againbeforeher.
Butitwasgone,andthoughsheknewanenemyhaddoneit,shecouldnotfindoutwhoitwas,
andcouldonlycurseandthreatentheair.Nowherewasaworsething,butsheknewher
enemy.
MariaRosa,thatsinfulgirl,shameless!Sheheardherselfsayingaharsh,truewordaboutMaria
Rosa,sayingitaloudasifsheexpectedsomeonetoagreewithher:“Yes,sheisawhore!She
hasnorighttolive.”
AtthismomentthegrayuntidyheadofGivensappearedovertheedgesofthenewesttrench
hehadcausedtobeduginhisfieldofexcavations.Thelongdeepcrevasses,inwhichaman
mightstandwithoutbeingseen,laycrisscrossedlikeorderlygashesofagiantscalpel.Nearlyall
ofthemenofthecommunityworkedforGivens,helpinghimtouncoverthelostcityoftheir
ancestors.
Theyworkedalltheyearthroughandprospered,diggingeverydayforthosesmallclayheads
andbitsofpotteryandfragmentsofpaintedwallsforwhichtherewasnogooduseonearth,
beingallbrokenandencrustedwithclay.Theythemselvescouldmakebetterones,perfectly
stoutandnew,whichtheytooktotownand
6
MariaConcepcion
peddledtoforeignersforrealmoney.Buttheunearthlydelightofthechiefinfindingthese
worn-outthingswasanendlesspuzzle.
Hewouldfairlyroarforjoyattimes,wavingashatteredpotorahumanskullabovehishead,
shoutingforhisphotographertocomeandmakeapictureofthis!
Nowheemerged,andhisyoungenthusiast’seyeswelcomedMariaConcepcionfromhisold-
manface,coveredwithhardwrinklesandburnedtothecolorofredearth.“Ihopeyou’ve
broughtmeanicefatone.”HeselectedafowlfromthebunchdanglingnearesthimasMaria
Concepcion,wordless,leanedoverthetrench.“Dressitforme,there’sagoodgirl.I’llbroilit.”
MariaConcepciontookthefowlbythehead,andsilently,swiftlydrewherknifeacrossits
throat,twistingtheheadoffwiththecasualfirmnessshemightusewiththetopofabeet.
“GoodGod,woman,youdohavenerve,”saidGivens,watchingher.“Ican’tdothat.Itgivesme
thecreeps.”
“MyhomecountryisGuadalajara,”explainedMariaConcep-ci6n,withoutbravado,asshe
pickedandguttedthefowl.
ShestoodandregardedGivenscondescendingly,thatdivertingwhitemanwhohadnowoman
ofhisowntocookforhim,andmoreoverappearednottofeelanylossofdignityinpreparing
hisownfood.Hesquattednow,eyessquinted,nosewrinkledtoavoidthesmoke,turningthe
roastingfowlbusilyonastick.Amysteriousman,undoubtedlyrich,andJuan’schief,therefore
toberespected,tobeplacated.
“Thetortillasarefreshandhot,senor,”shemurmuredgently.
“WithyourpermissionIwillnowgotomarket.”
“Yes,yes,runalong;bringmeanotherofthesetomorrow.”
Givensturnedhisheadtolookatheragain.Hergrandmannersometimesremindedhimof
royaltyinexile.Henoticedherunnaturalpaleness.“Thesunistoohot,eh?”heasked.
“Yes,sir.Pardonme,butJuanwillbeheresoon?”
“Heoughttobeherenow.Leavehisfood.Theotherswilleatit.”Shemovedaway;theblueof
herrebozobecameadancingspotintheheatwavesthatrosefromthegray-redsoil.Givens
likedhisIndiansbestwhenhecouldfeelafatherlyindulgencefortheirprimitivechildishways.
HetoldcomicstoriesofJuan’ses-capades,ofhowoftenhehadsavedhim,inthepastfive
years, 7
KatherineAnnePorter
fromgoingtojail,andevenfrombeingshot,forhisvariedandalwaysunexpectedmisdeeds.
“Iamneveraminutetoosoontogethimoutofonepickleoranother,”hewouldsay.“Well,
he’sagoodworker,andIknowhowtomanagehim.”
AfterJuanwasmarried,heusedtotwithim,withexactlytherightshadeofcondescension,on
hismanyinfidelitiestoMariaConcepcion.“She’llcatchyouyet,andGodhelpyou!”hewas
fondofsaying,andJuanwouldlaughwithimmensepleasure.
ItdidnotoccurtoMariaConcepciontotellJuanshehadfoundhimout.Duringthedayher
angeragainsthimdied,andherangeragainstMariaRosagrew.Shekeptsayingtoherself,
“WhenIwasayounggirllikeMariaRosa,ifamanhadcaughtholdofmeso,Iwouldhave
brokenmyjaroverhishead.”Sheforgotcompletelythatshehadnotresistedevensomuchas
MariaRosa,onthedaythatJuanhadfirsttakenholdofher.Besidesshehadmarriedhim
afterwardsinthechurch,andthatwasaverydifferentthing.
Juandidnotcomehomethatnight,butwentawaytowarandMariaRosawentwithhim.Juan
hadarifleathisshoulderandtwopistolsathisbelt.MariaRosaworeariflealso,slungonher
backalongwiththeblanketsandthecookingpots.Theyjoinedthenearestdetachmentof
troopsinthefield,andMariaRosamarchedaheadwiththebattalionofexperiencedwomenof
war,whichwentoverthecropslikelocusts,gatheringprovisionsforthearmy.Shecookedwith
them,andatewiththemwhatwasleftafterthemenhadeaten.Afterbattlesshewentouton
thefieldwiththeotherstosalvageclothingandammunitionandgunsfromtheslainbefore
theyshouldbegintoswellintheheat.Sometimestheywouldencounterthewomenfromthe
otherarmy,andasecondbattleasgrimasthefirstwouldtakeplace.
Therewasnoparticularscandalinthevillage.Peopleshrugged,grinned.Itwasfarbetterthat
theyweregone.TheneighborswentaroundsayingthatMariaRosawassaferinthearmythan
shewouldbeinthesamevillagewithMariaConcepcion.
MariaConcepciondidnotweepwhenJuanlefther;andwhenthebabywasborn,anddied
withinfourdays,shedidnotweep.
8
MariaConcepcion
“Sheismerestone,”saidoldLupe,whowentoverandofferedcharmstopreservethebaby.
“Mayyourotinhellwithyourcharms,”saidMariaConcepcion.
Ifshehadnotgonesoregularlytochurch,lightingcandlesbeforethesaints,kneelingwithher
armsspreadintheformofacrossforhoursatatime,andreceivingholycommunionevery
month,theremighthavebeentalkofherbeingdevil-possessed,herfacewassochangedand
blind-looking.Butthiswasimpossiblewhen,afterall,shehadbeenmarriedbythepriest.It
mustbe,theyreasoned,thatshewasbeingpunishedforherpride.
Theydecidedthatthiswasthetruecauseforeverything:shewasaltogethertooproud.Sothey
pitiedher.
DuringtheyearthatJuanandMariaRosaweregoneMariaConcepcionsoldherfowlsand
lookedafterhergardenandhersackofhardcoinsgrew.Lupehadnotalentforbees,andthe
hivesdidnotprosper.ShebegantoblameMariaRosaforrunningaway,andtopraiseMaria
Concepcionforherbehavior.SheusedtoseeMariaConcepcionatthemarketoratchurch,and
shealwayssaidthatnoonecouldtellbylookingathernowthatshewasawomanwhohad
suchaheavygrief.
“IprayGodeverythinggoeswellwithMariaConcepcionfromthisout,”shewouldsay,“forshe
hashadhershareoftrouble.”
Whensomeidlepersonrepeatedthistothedesertedwoman,shewentdowntoLupe’shouse
andstoodwithintheclearingandcalledtothemedicinewoman,whosatinherdoorway
stirringamessofherinfalliblecureforsores:“Keepyourprayerstoyourself,Lupe,oroffer
themforotherswhoneedthem.IwillaskGodforwhatIwantinthisworld.”
“Andwillyougetit,youthink,MariaConcepcion?”askedLupe,titteringcruellyandsmelling
thewoodenmixingspoon.
“Didyouprayforwhatyouhavenow?”
AfterwardeveryonenoticedthatMariaConcepcionwentoftenertochurch,andevenseldomer
tothevillagetotalkwiththeotherwomenasthevsatalonethecurb,nursingtheirbabiesand
eating
KatherineAnnePorter
ButMariaConcepcionlivedalone.Shewasgaunt,asifsomethingweregnawingheraway
inside,hereyesweresunken,andshewouldnotspeakawordifshecouldhelpit.Sheworked
harderthanever,andherbutcheringknifewasscarcelyeveroutofherhand.
JuanandMariaRosa,disgustedwithmilitarylife,camehomeonedaywithoutasking
permissionofanyone.Thefieldofwarhadunrolleditself,alongscrollofvexations,untilthe
endhadfrayedoutwithintwentymilesofJuan’svillage.SoheandMariaRosa,nowleanasa
wolf,burdenedwithachilddailyexpected,setoutwithnofarewellstotheregimentand
walkedhome.
Theyarrivedonemorningaboutdaybreak.Juanwaspickeduponsightbyagroupofmilitary
policefromthesmallbarracksontheedgeoftown,andtakentoprison,wheretheofficerin
chargetoldhimwithimpersonalcheerfulnessthathewouldaddonetoacatchoftenwaiting
tobeshotasdesertersthenextmorning.
MariaRosa,screamingandfallingonherfaceintheroad,wastakenunderthearmpitsbytwo
guardsandhelpedbrisklytoherjacal,nowsadlyrundown.Shewasreceivedwithprofessional
importancebyLupe,whohelpedthebabytobebornatonce.
Limpingwithfootsoreness,alayerofdustconcealinghisfinenewclothesgotmysteriously
fromsomewhere,Juanappearedbeforethecaptainatthebarracks.Thecaptainrecognized
himasheaddiggerforhisgoodfriendGivens,anddispatchedanotetoGivenssaying:“Iam
holdingthepersonofJuanVillegasawait-ingyourfurtherdisposition.”
WhenGivensshowedupJuanwasdeliveredtohimwiththeurgentrequestthatnothingbe
madepublicaboutsohumaneandsensibleanoperationonthepartofmilitaryauthority.
Juanwalkedoutoftheratherstiflingatmosphereofthedrum-headcourt,adefiniteairof
swaggerabouthim.Hishat,ofunreasonabledimensionsandembroideredwithsilverthread,
hungoveroneeyebrow,securedatthebackbyacordofsilverdrippingwithbrightbluetassels.
Hisshirtwasofacheckerboardpatterningreenandblack,hiswhitecottontrouserswere
boundbyabeltofyellowleathertooledinred.Hisfeetwerebare,fullofstonebruises,and
sadlyraggedastotoenails.Heremovedhis
10
MariaConcepcion
cigarettefromthecornerofhisfull-lippedwidemouth.Heremovedthesplendidhat.Hisblack
dustyhair,pressedmoistlytohisforehead,sprangupsuddenlyinacloudythatchonhiscrown.
Hebowedtotheofficer,whoappearedtobegazingatavacuum.
Heswunghisarmwideinafreecircleupsoaringtowardstheprisonwindow,whereforlorn
headspokedoverthewindowsill,hoteyesfollowingaftertheluckydepartingone.Twoor
threeoftheheadsnodded,andahalfdozenhandswereflippedathiminanefforttoimitate
hisowncasualandheadymanner.
Juankeptupthisinsufferablepantomimeuntiltheyroundedthefirstclumpoffig-cactus.Then
heseizedGivens’handandburstintooratory.“BlessedbethedayyourservantJuanVillegas
firstcameunderyoureyes.Fromthisdaymylifeisyourswithoutcondition,tenthousand
thankswithallmyheart!”
“ForGod’ssakestopplayingthefool,”saidGivensirritably.
“SomedayI’mgoingtobefiveminutestoolate.”
“Well,itisnothingmuchtobeshot,mychief—certainlyyouknowIwasnotafraid—buttobe
shotinadroveofdeserters,againstacoldwall,justinthemomentofmyhome-coming,by
orderofthat…”
Glitteringepithetstumbledoveroneanotherlikeexplosionsofarocket.Allthescandalous
analogiesfromtheanimalandvegetableworldswereappliedinavivid,uniqueandpersonal
waytothelife,loves,andfamilyhistoryoftheofficerwhohadjustsethimfree.Whenhehad
quitecursedhimselfdry,andhisnervesweresoothed,headded:“Withyourpermission,my
chief!”
“WhatwillMariaConcepcionsaytoallthis?”askedGivens.
“Youareveryinformal,Juan,foramanwhowasmarriedinthechurch.”
Juanputonhishat.
“Oh,MariaConcepcion!That’snothing.Look,mychief,tobemarriedinthechurchisagreat
misfortuneforaman.Afterthatheisnothimselfanymore.Howcanthatwomancomplain
whenIdonotdrinkevenatfiestasenoughtobereallydrunk?Idonotbeather;never,never.
Wewerealwaysatpeace.Isaytoher,Comehere,andshecomesstraight.Isay,Gothere,and
shegoesquickly.YetsometimesIlookedatherandthought,NowIammarriedtothatwoman
inthechurch,andIfeltasinkinginside,asifsomethingwerelyingheavyonmystomach.With
MariaRosa
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KatherineAnnePorter
itisalldifferent.Sheisnotsilent;shetalks.Whenshetalkstoomuch,Islapherandsay,
Silence,thousimpleton!andsheweeps.
SheisjustagirlwithwhomIdoasIplease.Youknowhowsheusedtokeepthosecleanlittle
beesintheirhives?Sheisliketheirhoneytome.Iswearit.IwouldnotharmMariaConcepcion
becauseIammarriedtoherinthechurch;butalso,mychief,IwillnotleaveMariaRosa,
becauseshepleasesmemorethananyotherwoman.”
“Letmetellyou,Juan,thingshaven’tbeengoingaswellasyouthink.Youbecareful.Someday
MariaConcepcionwilljusttakeyourheadoffwiththatcarvingknifeofhers.Youkeepthatin
mind.”
Juan’sexpressionwastheproperblendofmasculinetriumphandsentimentalmelancholy.It
waspleasanttoseehimselfintheroleofherototwosuchdesirablewomen.Hehadjust
escapedfromthethreatofadisagreeableend.Hisclotheswerenewandhandsome,andthey
hadcosthimjustnothing.MariaRosahadcollectedthemforhimhereandthereafterbattles.
Hewaswalkingintheearlysunshine,smellingthegoodsmellsofripeningcactus-figs,peaches,
andmelons,ofpungentberriesdanglingfromthepepper-trees,andthesmokeofhiscigarette
underhisnose.Hewasonhiswaytocivilianlifewithhispatientchief.Hissituationwas
ineffablyperfect,andheswalloweditwhole.
“Mychief,”headdressedGivenshandsomely,asonemanoftheworldtoanother,“womenare
goodthings,butnotatthismoment.Withyourpermission,Iwillnowgotothevillageandeat.
MyGod, how Ishalleat!TomorrowmorningveryearlyIwillcometotheburiedcityandwork
likesevenmen.LetusforgetMariaConcepcionandMariaRosa.Eachoneinherplace.Iwill
managethemwhenthetimecomes.”
NewsofJuan’sadventuresoongotabroad,andJuanfoundmanyfriendsabouthimduringthe
morning.Theyfranklycommendedhiswayofleavingthearmy.Itwasinitselftheactofahero.
Thenewheroateagreatdealanddranksomewhat,theoccasionbeingbetterthanafeast-day.
ItwasalmostnoonbeforehereturnedtovisitMariaRosa.
Hefoundhersittingonacleanstrawmat,rubbingfatonherthree-hour-oldson.Beforethis
felicitousvisionJuan’semotionssotwistedhimthathereturnedtothevillageandinvitedevery
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MariaConcepcion
maninthe“DeathandResurrection”pulqueshoptodrinkwithhim.
Havingthustakenleaveofhisbalance,hestartedbacktoMariaRosa,andfoundhimself
unaccountablyinhisownhouse,attemptingtobeatMariaConcepcionbywayofreestablishing
himselfinhislegalhousehold.
MariaConcepcion,knowingalltheeventsofthatunhappyday,wasnotinayieldingmood,and
refusedtobebeaten.Shedidnotscreamnorimplore;shestoodhergroundandresisted;she
evenstruckathim.Juan,amazed,hardlyknowingwhathedid,steppedbackandgazedather
inquiringlythroughaleisurelywhirlingfilmwhichseemedtohavelodgedbehindhiseyes.
Certainlyhehadnoteventhoughtoftouchingher.Oh,well,noharmdone.Hegaveup,turned
away,half-asleeponhisfeet.Hedroppedamiablyinashadowedcornerandbegantosnore.
MariaConcepcion,seeingthathewasquiet,begantobindthelegsofherfowls.Itwasmarket-
dayandshewaslate.Shefumbledandtangledthebitsofcordinherhaste,andsetoffacross
theplowedfieldsinsteadoftakingtheaccustomedroad.Sheranwithacrazypanicinherhead,
herstumblinglegs.Nowandthenshewouldstopandlookabouther,tryingtoplaceherself,
thengoonafewsteps,untilsherealizedthatshewasnotgoingtowardsthemarket.
Atonceshecametohersensescompletely,recognizedthethingthattroubledhersoterribly,
wascertainofwhatshewanted.Shesatdownquietlyunderashelteringthornybushandgave
herselfovertoherlongdevouringsorrow.Thethingwhichhadforsolongsqueezedherwhole
bodyintoatightdumbknotofsufferingsuddenlybrokewithshockingviolence.Shejerkedwith
thein-voluntaryrecoilofonewhoreceivesablow,andthesweatpouredfromherskinasifthe
woundsofherwholelifeweresheddingtheirsaltichor.Drawingherrebozooverherhead,she
bowedherforeheadonherupdrawnknees,andsatthereindeadlysilenceandimmobility.
Fromtimetotimesheliftedherheadwherethesweatformedsteadilyandpoureddownher
face,drenchingthefrontofherchemise,andhermouthhadtheshapeofcrying,butthere
werenotearsandnosound.Allherbeingwasadarkconfusedmemoryofgriefburninginher
atnight,ofdeadlybaffledangereatingatherbyday,untilherverytonguetastedbitter,
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andherfeetwereasheavyasifsheweremiredinthemuddyroadsduringthetimeofrains.
Afteragreatwhileshestoodupandthrewtherebozooffherface,andsetoutwalkingagain.
Juanawakenedslowly,withlongyawnsandgrumblings,alternatedwithshortrelapsesinto
sleepfullofvisionsandclamors.Abluroforangelightsearedhiseyeballswhenhetriedto
unsealhislids.
Therecamefromsomewherealowvoiceweepingwithouttears,sayingmeaninglessphrases
overandover.Hebegantolisten.Hetuggedattheleashofhisstupor,hestrainedtograsp
thosewordswhichterrifiedhimeventhoughhecouldnotquitehearthem.