Green Mansions: A Romance of the Tropical Forest by W. H. Hudson
CHAPTER VII
With the return of consciousness, I at first had a vague impression thatI was lying somewhere, injured, and incapable of motion that it wasnight, and necessary for me to keep my eyes fast shut to prevent themfrom being blinded by almost continuous vivid flashes of lightning.Injured, and sore all over, but warm and dry--surely dry; nor was itlightning that dazzled, but firelight. I began to notice things littleby little. The fire was burning on a clay floor a few feet from where Iwas lying. Before it, on a log of wood, sat or crouched a human figure.An old man, with chin on breast and hands clasped before his drawn-upknees; only a small portion of his forehead and nose visible to me. AnIndian I took him to be, from his coarse, lank, grey hair and dark brownskin. I was in a large hut, falling at the sides to within two feet ofthe floor; but there were no hammocks in it, nor bows and spears, andno skins, not even under me, for I was lying on straw mats. I could hearthe storm still raging outside; the rush and splash of rain, and, atintervals, the distant growl of thunder. There was wind, too; I listenedto it sobbing in the trees, and occasionally a puff found its way in,and blew up the white ashes at the old man's feet, and shook the yellowflames like a flag. I remembered now how the storm began, the wild girl,the snake-bite, my violent efforts to find a way out of the woods, and,finally, that leap from the bank where recollection ended. That I hadnot been killed by the venomous tooth, nor the subsequent fearful fall,seemed like a miracle to me. And in that wild, solitary place, lyinginsensible, in that awful storm and darkness, I had been found by afellow creature--a savage, doubtless, but a good Samaritan all thesame--who had rescued me from death! I was bruised all over and did notattempt to move, fearing the pain it would give me; and I had a rackingheadache; but these seemed trifling discomforts after such adventuresand such perils. I felt that I had recovered or was recovering fromthat venomous bite; that I would live and not die--live to return to mycountry; and the thought filled my heart to overflowing, and tears ofgratitude and happiness rose to my eyes.
At such times a man experiences benevolent feelings, and would willinglybestow some of that overplus of happiness on his fellows to lightenother hearts; and this old man before me, who was probably theinstrument of my salvation, began greatly to excite my interest andcompassion. For he seemed so poor in his old age and rags, so solitaryand dejected as he sat there with knees drawn up, his great, brown, barefeet looking almost black by contrast with the white wood-ashes aboutthem! What could I do for him? What could I say to cheer his spiritsin that Indian language, which has few or no words to express kindlyfeelings? Unable to think of anything better to say, I at lengthsuddenly cried aloud: "Smoke, old man! Why do you not smoke? It is goodto smoke."
He gave a mighty start and, turning, fixed his eyes on me. Then I sawthat he was not a pure Indian, for although as brown as old leather,he wore a beard and moustache. A curious face had this old man, whichlooked as if youth and age had made it a battling-ground. His foreheadwas smooth except for two parallel lines in the middle running itsentire length, dividing it in zones; his arched eyebrows were black asink, and his small black eyes were bright and cunning, like the eyes ofsome wild carnivorous animal. In this part of his face youth had heldits own, especially in the eyes, which looked young and lively.But lower down age had conquered, scribbling his skin all over withwrinkles, while moustache and beard were white as thistledown. "Aha, thedead man is alive again!" he exclaimed, with a chuckling laugh. Thisin the Indian tongue; then in Spanish he added: "But speak to me in thelanguage you know best, senor; for if you are not a Venezuelan call mean owl."
"And you, old man?" said I.
"Ah, I was right! Why sir what I am is plainly written on my face.Surely you do not take me for a pagan! I might be a black man fromAfrica, or an Englishman, but an Indian--that, no! But a minute ago youhad the goodness to invite me to smoke. How, sir, can a poor man smokewho is without tobacco?"
"Without tobacco--in Guayana!"
"Can you believe it? But, sir, do not blame me; if the beast thatcame one night and destroyed my plants when ripe for cutting had takenpumpkins and sweet potatoes instead, it would have been better for him,if curses have any effect. And the plant grows slowly, sir--it is not anevil weed to come to maturity in a single day. And as for other leavesin the forest, I smoke them, yes; but there is no comfort to the lungsin such smoke."
"My tobacco-pouch was full," I said. "You will find it in my coat, if Idid not lose it."
"The saints forbid!" he exclaimed. "Grandchild--Rima, have you got atobacco-pouch with the other things? Give it to me."
Then I first noticed that another person was in the hut, a slim younggirl, who had been seated against the wall on the other side of thefire, partially hid by the shadows. She had my leather belt, withthe revolver in its case, and my hunting-knife attached, and the fewarticles I had had in my pockets, on her lap. Taking up the pouch, shehanded it to him, and he clutched it with a strange eagerness.
"I will give it back presently, Rima," he said. "Let me first smoke acigarette--and then another."
It seemed probable from this that the good old man had already beencasting covetous eyes on my property, and that his granddaughter hadtaken care of it for me. But how the silent, demure girl had kept itfrom him was a puzzle, so intensely did he seem now to enjoy it, drawingthe smoke vigorously into his lungs and, after keeping it ten or fifteenseconds there, letting it fly out again from mouth and nose in blue jetsand clouds. His face softened visibly, he became more and more genialand loquacious, and asked me how I came to be in that solitary place. Itold him that I was staying with the Indian Runi, his neighbour.
"But, senor," he said, "if it is not an impertinence, how is it that ayoung man of so distinguished an appearance as yourself, a Venezuelan,should be residing with these children of the devil?"
"You love not your neighbours, then?"
"I know them, sir--how should I love them?" He was rolling up his secondor third cigarette by this time, and I could not help noticing that hetook a great deal more tobacco than he required in his fingers, andthat the surplus on each occasion was conveyed to some secret receptacleamong his rags. "Love them, sir! They are infidels, and therefore thegood Christian must only hate them. They are thieves--they will stealfrom you before your very face, so devoid are they of all shame. Andalso murderers; gladly would they burn this poor thatch above my head,and kill me and my poor grandchild, who shares this solitary life withme, if they had the courage. But they are all arrant cowards, and fearto approach me--fear even to come into this wood. You would laugh tohear what they are afraid of--a child would laugh to hear it!"
"What do they fear?" I said, for his words had excited my interest in agreat degree.
"Why, sir, would you believe it? They fear this child--my granddaughter,seated there before you. A poor innocent girl of seventeen summers, aChristian who knows her Catechism, and would not harm the smallest thingthat God has made--no, not a fly, which is not regarded on account ofits smallness. Why, sir, it is due to her tender heart that you aresafely sheltered here, instead of being left out of doors in thistempestuous night."
"To her--to this girl?" I returned in astonishment. "Explain, old man,for I do not know how I was saved."
"Today, senor, through your own heedlessness you were bitten by avenomous snake."
"Yes, that is true, although I do not know how it came to yourknowledge. But why am I not a dead man, then--have you done something tosave me from the effects of the poison?"
"Nothing. What could I do so long after you were bitten? When a man isbitten by a snake in a solitary place he is in God's hands. He will liveor die as God wills. There is nothing to be done. But surely, sir, youremember that my poor grandchild was with you in the wood when the snakebit you?"
"A girl was there--a strange girl I have seen and heard before when Ihave walked in the forest. But not this girl--surely not this girl!"
"No other," said he, carefully rolling up another cigarette.
"It is not possibl
"Ill would you have fared, sir, had she not been there. For after beingbitten, you rushed away into the thickest part of the wood, and wentabout in a circle like a demented person for Heaven knows how long. Butshe never left you; she was always close to you--you might have touchedher with your hand. And at last some good angel who was watching you,in order to stop your career, made you mad altogether and caused you tojump over a precipice and lose your senses. And you were no sooner onthe ground than she was with you--ask me not how she got down! And whenshe had propped you up against the bank, she came for me. Fortunatelythe spot where you had fallen is near--not five hundred yards from thedoor. And I, on my part, was willing to assist her in saving you; for Iknew it was no Indian that had fallen, since she loves not that breed,and they come not here. It was not an easy task, for you weigh, senor;but between us we brought you in."
While he spoke, the girl continued sitting in the same listless attitudeas when I first observed her, with eyes cast down and hands folded inher lap. Recalling that brilliant being in the wood that had protectedthe serpent from me and calmed its rage, I found it hard to believe hiswords, and still felt a little incredulous.
"Rima--that is your name, is it not?" I said. "Will you come here andstand before me, and let me look closely at you?"
"Si, senor." she meekly answered; and removing the things from her lap,she stood up; then, passing behind the old man, came and stood beforeme, her eyes still bent on the ground--a picture of humility.
She had the figure of the forest girl, but wore now a scanty fadedcotton garment, while the loose cloud of hair was confined in two plaitsand hung down her back. The face also showed the same delicate lines,but of the brilliant animation and variable colour and expression thereappeared no trace. Gazing at her countenance as she stood there silent,shy, and spiritless before me, the image of her brighter self camevividly to my mind and I could not recover from the astonishment I feltat such a contrast.
Have you ever observed a humming-bird moving about in an aerial danceamong the flowers--a living prismatic gem that changes its colour withevery change of position--how in turning it catches the sunshine on itsburnished neck and gorges plumes--green and gold and flame-coloured, thebeams changing to visible flakes as they fall, dissolving into nothing,to be succeeded by others and yet others? In its exquisite form,its changeful splendour, its swift motions and intervals of aerialsuspension, it is a creature of such fairy-like loveliness as tomock all description. And have you seen this same fairy-like creaturesuddenly perch itself on a twig, in the shade, its misty wings andfan-like tail folded, the iridescent glory vanished, looking like somecommon dull-plumaged little bird sitting listless in a cage? Just sogreat was the difference in the girl as I had seen her in the forest andas she now appeared under the smoky roof in the firelight.
After watching her for some moments, I spoke: "Rima, there must be agood deal of strength in that frame of yours, which looks so delicate;will you raise me up a little?"
She went down on one knee and, placing her arms round me, assisted me toa sitting posture.
"Thank you, Rima--oh, misery!" I groaned. "Is there a bone left unbrokenin my poor body?"
"Nothing broken," cried the old man, clouds of smoke flying out with hiswords. "I have examined you well--legs, arms, ribs. For this is howit was, senor. A thorny bush into which you fell saved you from beingflattened on the stony ground. But you are bruised, sir, black withbruises; and there are more scratches of thorns on your skin thanletters on a written page."
"A long thorn might have entered my brain," I said, "from the way itpains. Feel my forehead, Rima; is it very hot and dry?"
She did as I asked, touching me lightly with her little cool hand. "No,senor, not hot, but warm and moist," she said.
"Thank Heaven for that!" I said. "Poor girl! And you followed me throughthe wood in all that terrible storm! Ah, if I could lift my bruised armI would take your hand to kiss it in gratitude for so great a service. Iowe you my life, sweet Rima--what shall I do to repay so great a debt?"
The old man chuckled as if amused, but the girl lifted not her eyes norspoke.
"Tell me, sweet child," I said, "for I cannot realize it yet; wasit really you that saved the serpent's life when I would have killedit--did you stand by me in the wood with the serpent lying at yourfeet?"
"Yes, senor," came her gentle answer.
"And it was you I saw in the wood one day, lying on the ground playingwith a small bird?"
"Yes, senor."
"And it was you that followed me so often among the trees, calling tome, yet always hiding so that I could never see you?"
"Yes, senor."
"Oh, this is wonderful!" I exclaimed; whereat the old man chuckledagain.
"But tell me this, my sweet girl," I continued. "You never addressed mein Spanish; what strange musical language was it you spoke to me in?"
She shot a timid glance at my face and looked troubled at the question,but made no reply.
"Senor," said the old man, "that is a question which you must excuse mychild from answering. Not, sir, from want of will, for she is docile andobedient, though I say it, but there is no answer beyond what I can tellyou. And this is, sir, that all creatures, whether man or bird, have thevoice that God has given them; and in some the voice is musical and inothers not so."
"Very well, old man," said I to myself; "there let the matter rest forthe present. But if I am destined to live and not die, I shall not longremain satisfied with your too simple explanation."
"Rima," I said, "you must be fatigued; it is thoughtless of me to keepyou standing here so long."
Her face brightened a little, and bending down, she replied in a lowvoice: "I am not fatigued, sir. Let me get you something to eat now."
She moved quickly away to the fire, and presently returned with anearthenware dish of roasted pumpkin and sweet potatoes and, kneeling atmy side, fed me deftly with a small wooden spoon. I did not feel grievedat the absence of meat and the stinging condiments the Indians love, nordid I even remark that there was no salt in the vegetables, so muchwas I taken up with watching her beautiful delicate face while sheministered to me. The exquisite fragrance of her breath was more to methan the most delicious viands could have been; and it was a delighteach time she raised the spoon to my mouth to catch a momentary glimpseof her eyes, which now looked dark as wine when we lift the glass to seethe ruby gleam of light within the purple. But she never for a momentlaid aside the silent, meek, constrained manner; and when I rememberedher bursting out in her brilliant wrath on me, pouring forth thattorrent of stinging invective in her mysterious language, I was lostin wonder and admiration at the change in her, and at her doublepersonality. Having satisfied my wants, she moved quietly awayand, raising a straw mat, disappeared behind it into her ownsleeping-apartment, which was divided off by a partition from the room Iwas in.
The old man's sleeping-place was a wooden cot or stand on the oppositeside of the room, but he was in no hurry to sleep, and after Rima hadleft us, put a fresh log on the blaze and lit another cigarette. Heavenknows how many he had smoked by this time. He became very talkative andcalled to his side his two dogs, which I had not noticed in the roombefore, for me to see. It amused me to hear their names--Susio andGoloso: Dirty and Greedy. They were surly-looking brutes, with roughyellow hair, and did not win my heart, but according to his account theypossessed all the usual canine virtues; and he was still holding forthon the subject when I fell asleep.