Wolfville Days [69]
only has a half of Peets' game now, you'd be the hardest thing--mental--to ride that ever invades the Southwest. Nacherally, an' in a wild an' ontrained way, you're wise. But to rcsoome: As much as I can, I'll give the padre in his own words. He takes us out onder a huddle of pine trees, where thar's two graves side by side, an' with a big cross of wood standin' gyard at the head. Thar's quite a heap o' rocks, about as big as your shet hand, heaped up on 'em. It's the Mexicans does that. Every Greaser who goes by, says a pray'r, an' tosses a rock on the grave. When we-all is camped comfortable, the padre begins.
"'"This is that which was with the Senor Juan and the Donna Anna," he says. "They adored each other with their hearts. It was many months ago when, from the Plaza Perdita, they came together here to the Donna Anna's house, the Hacienda Tulorosa. Who was the Donna Anna? Her mother was an Indian, a Navajo, and the child of a head man. Her father was the Senor Ravel, a captain of war he was, and the Americanos slew him at Buena Vista. No; they were not married, the father and the mother of the Donna Anna. But what then? There are more children than weddings in Mexico. Also the mother of the Donna Anna was a Navajo. The Captain Ravel long ago brought her to the Hacienda Tulorosa for her home--her and the Donna Anna. But the mother lived not long, for the Indian dies in a house. This is years gone by; and the Donna Anna always lived at the Casa Tulorosa. "'No; the Senor Juan and the Donna Anna do not marry. They might; but the Senor Juan became like a little child-muchachito. This was within a few days after he came here. Then he lived until ten days ago; but always a little child. "'When the Senor Juan is dead, the Donna Anna sends for me. The Seuor Juan is ready for the grave when I arrive.' Is it to bury him that I come?' I ask. 'No; it is to bury me,' says the Donna Anna. Ah! she was very beautiful! the Donna Anna. You should have seen her, my children. "'When the Senor Juan is laid away, the Donna Anna tells me all. 'He came, the Senor Juan,' says the Donna Anna, 'and I gave him all my love. But in a day he was to have gone to his home far away with the Americanos. Then I would never more see him nor hear him, and my soul would starve and die. There, too, was a Senorita, an Americana; she would have my place. Father, what could I do? I gave him the loco to drink; not much, but it was enough. Then his memory sank and sank; and he forgot the Senorita Americana; and he remembered not to go away to his home; and he became like a little child with me. The good loco drove every one from his heart; and all from his mind-all, save me, the Donna Anna. I was the earth and the life to him. And so, night and day, since he came until now he dies, my arms and my heart have been about the Senor Juan. And I have been very, very happy with my muchachito, the Senor Juan. Yes, I knew he would go; because none may live who drinks the loco. But it would be months; and I did not care. He would be mine, ever my own, the Senor Juan; for when he died, could I not die and follow him? We were happy these months with the flowers and the fountain and each other. I was happier than he; for I was like the mother, and he like a little child. But it was much peace with love! And we will be happy again to-morrow when I go where he waits to meet me. Father, you are to remain one day, and see that I am buried with the Senior Juan.' "Then," goes on the padre, "I say to the Donna Anna, 'If you are to seek the Senor Juan, you will first kneel in prayer and in confession, and have the parting rites of the church.' But the Donna Anna would not. 'I will go as went the Senor Juan,' she says; 'else I may find another heaven and we may not meet.' Nor could I move the Donna Anna from her resolution. 'The Senor Juan is a heretic and must now be in perdition,' I say. 'Then will I, too, go there,' replies the Donna Anna, 'for we must be together; I and the Senor Juan. He is mine and I will not give him up to be alone with the fiends or with the angels.' So I
"'"This is that which was with the Senor Juan and the Donna Anna," he says. "They adored each other with their hearts. It was many months ago when, from the Plaza Perdita, they came together here to the Donna Anna's house, the Hacienda Tulorosa. Who was the Donna Anna? Her mother was an Indian, a Navajo, and the child of a head man. Her father was the Senor Ravel, a captain of war he was, and the Americanos slew him at Buena Vista. No; they were not married, the father and the mother of the Donna Anna. But what then? There are more children than weddings in Mexico. Also the mother of the Donna Anna was a Navajo. The Captain Ravel long ago brought her to the Hacienda Tulorosa for her home--her and the Donna Anna. But the mother lived not long, for the Indian dies in a house. This is years gone by; and the Donna Anna always lived at the Casa Tulorosa. "'No; the Senor Juan and the Donna Anna do not marry. They might; but the Senor Juan became like a little child-muchachito. This was within a few days after he came here. Then he lived until ten days ago; but always a little child. "'When the Senor Juan is dead, the Donna Anna sends for me. The Seuor Juan is ready for the grave when I arrive.' Is it to bury him that I come?' I ask. 'No; it is to bury me,' says the Donna Anna. Ah! she was very beautiful! the Donna Anna. You should have seen her, my children. "'When the Senor Juan is laid away, the Donna Anna tells me all. 'He came, the Senor Juan,' says the Donna Anna, 'and I gave him all my love. But in a day he was to have gone to his home far away with the Americanos. Then I would never more see him nor hear him, and my soul would starve and die. There, too, was a Senorita, an Americana; she would have my place. Father, what could I do? I gave him the loco to drink; not much, but it was enough. Then his memory sank and sank; and he forgot the Senorita Americana; and he remembered not to go away to his home; and he became like a little child with me. The good loco drove every one from his heart; and all from his mind-all, save me, the Donna Anna. I was the earth and the life to him. And so, night and day, since he came until now he dies, my arms and my heart have been about the Senor Juan. And I have been very, very happy with my muchachito, the Senor Juan. Yes, I knew he would go; because none may live who drinks the loco. But it would be months; and I did not care. He would be mine, ever my own, the Senor Juan; for when he died, could I not die and follow him? We were happy these months with the flowers and the fountain and each other. I was happier than he; for I was like the mother, and he like a little child. But it was much peace with love! And we will be happy again to-morrow when I go where he waits to meet me. Father, you are to remain one day, and see that I am buried with the Senior Juan.' "Then," goes on the padre, "I say to the Donna Anna, 'If you are to seek the Senor Juan, you will first kneel in prayer and in confession, and have the parting rites of the church.' But the Donna Anna would not. 'I will go as went the Senor Juan,' she says; 'else I may find another heaven and we may not meet.' Nor could I move the Donna Anna from her resolution. 'The Senor Juan is a heretic and must now be in perdition,' I say. 'Then will I, too, go there,' replies the Donna Anna, 'for we must be together; I and the Senor Juan. He is mine and I will not give him up to be alone with the fiends or with the angels.' So I