Orphans of Eldorado - Milton Hatoum [10]
In Vila Bela’s port someone spread the tale that the orphan was an anaconda who was going to devour me and drag me off to a city at the bottom of the river—and that I should break the spell before I was transformed into a diabolical creature. As Dinaura spoke to no one, rumours went about that people who were silent had been bewitched by Jurupari, the god of Evil.
One Saturday, Joaquim Roso and Ulisses Tupi invited me to play dominos in Salomito Benchaya’s pension. Denísio Cão, the strange boatman, pushed his way into the company and lost one game. He was a man with no luck, and went on to lose every game he played. The intruder grew irritated—he hated losing. And then, without batting an eyelid, he said:
That mother superior, the big chief, that Spanish one, is she a virgin, is she as saintly as she looks? I’ll believe that when I see it . . .
The players gave the boatman a stern look; Joaquim Roso disarranged the game of dominos and left. Salomito put the pieces back in the box: they’d be better playing in the Market bar.
Denísio spat to one side and turned his face to me, laughing: Today I carried an old man and two cows to the River Ariri. The Spanish nun was there; and your orphan, too. The two of them were planting peppers in canoes filled with soil. I offered to help, but that savage Spaniard wouldn’t let me. Like I said, I’ll believe it when I see it . . .
Ulisses Tupi took me there. It was a parish beyond the mouth of the Espírito Santo. On a beach by the Arari, Ulisses tied the prow of the launch to the trunk of a tree. A line of old canoes rested on forked branches stuck in the sand. There was no one to be seen in the doorways of the straw-roofed shacks.
Where’s that girl, and the mother superior?
Don’t be in such a hurry, said Ulisses, pointing at a bird. It was a hoatzin up in the sky, white in the intense light.
I followed the heavy flight of the bird into the swampy jungle. I heard Ulisses say the bird’s name and imitate its song. I lay down on the prow and shut my eyes, dizzy with the rocking of a boat. Dinaura appeared in my dream, wearing the same cotton dress. Her spellbinding eyes were a little wide, and dark, cut out of the night sky. I began to know Dinaura’s face, and felt something I’d not felt in my love affairs when I was younger. I grabbed her arms and, as I pulled her towards me, I saw the image of Mother Caminal and heard a buzzing sound.
I woke up with the noise of the launch motor. I was thinking about the dream, and sweating. I got up and took a look at the beach: the canoes hanging, the shacks boarded up, the place deserted.
I think Denísio Cão’s told a fib, Ulisses said.
Florita, who listened to the gossip in Vila Bela, told me that to the Carmelites I was the devil incarnate: I preyed on young girls, I was a randy bachelor with not a single drop of my father’s honour in me. They said they’d seen me disembark with whores from Manaus at the ramp up to the Market, and swim with them in utter shamelessness, there on the beach of the Ponta da Piroca.
I never brought any women to Vila Bela. But perhaps a repeated lie is just an imitation of the truth? I asked Estiliano to help me convince Mother Caminal that I wasn’t the devil they said I was.
The Mother Superior is responsible for the moral welfare of the orphans.
What about my feelings?
Don’t be cynical, Arminto.
I insisted, feigning deference. He was a lawyer, I said, everyone listened to what he had to say.
I saw his face glow with pride. But then his brow furrowed and his eyes fixed anxiously on my face, as if reading the pages of a tragedy. He put his hands on my shoulder: he was very concerned.
I didn’t know if he was talking about the firm or the orphan.
The truth is that Dinaura filled my thoughts. I put on a white linen jacket, went to the Ribanceira and looked at the windows of the orphanage. Yes, that same building. Some idiots laughed at me. A nutcase, they said. That orphan’s burnt his brains out. But when Dinaura walked through the town, men followed her round. No