“I think you probably know.”
“About Prue, I suppose. No?”
“It certainly is. I don’t know how I can ever make it right with her. She told me what you said to her, and I must say I found it hard to believe. How could you?”
“You mean just now in the garden?”
“I don’t know where you said it, but I do know this can’t go on. So I’m just forced to say this. . . . You’ll have to go. I can’t be stirred up this way, and I can tell just how it’ll be if you stay on.”
“I’m not surprised at all,” said Aileen, making a show of calm. “When do you want me to leave?”
“This is terribly painful . . .”
“Oh, stop! It’s all right. I’ve had a vacation and I can get a lot of work done before the term starts. Today? Tomorrow?”
“I think the first of the week. I’ll go to Barranquilla with you.”
“Would you think I was silly if I had all my meals up here?”
“I think it’s a perfect idea, darling, and we can have nice visits together, you and I, between meals.”
Now, when the tension should have been over, somehow it was not. During the four nights before she was to leave, Aileen had endless excruciating dreams. She would wake up in the darkness too agonized even to move her hand. It was not fear; she could not recall the dreams. It was rather as if some newly discovered, innermost part of her being were in acute pain. Breathing quickly, she would lie transfixed for long periods listening to the eternal sound of the waterfall, punctuated at great intervals by some slight, nearby nocturnal noise in the trees. Finally, when she had summoned sufficient energy to move, she would change her position in the bed, sigh profoundly, and relax enough to fall back into the ominous world of sleep.
When the final day came, there was a light tapping on her door just after dawn. She got up and unbolted it. Her mother was there, smiling thinly.
“May I come in?”
“Oh. Good morning. Of course. It’s early, isn’t it?”
Her mother walked across to the window and stood looking down at the misty garden.
“I’m not so well today,” she said. “I’m afraid I can’t take you to Barranquilla. I’m not up to getting onto a horse today. It’s just too much, that three-hour trip to Jamonocal, and then the train and the boat all night. You’ll just have to forgive me. I couldn’t stand all three. But it won’t matter, will it?” she went on, looking up at last. “We’ll say good-bye here.”
“But, Mother, how can I go alone?”
“Oh, Jose’ll go all the way to Barranquilla with you and be back by Wednesday night. You don’t think I’d let you go off by yourself?”
She began to laugh intensely, then stopped suddenly and looked pensive.
“I rather hate to be here two nights without him, but I don’t see any other way to get you down there by tomorrow. You can go shipside to Panama. There’s usually a seat somewhere. Now, breakfast, breakfast . . .”
Patting Aileen’s cheek, she hurried out and downstairs to the kitchen.
The birds’ morning song was coming down from the forest; the mist lay ragged in the tops of the great trees up there. Aileen shifted her gaze to the garden at her feet. Suddenly she felt she could not leave; in a sense it was as if she were leaving love behind. She sat down on the bed. “But what is it?” she asked herself desperately. “Not Mother. Not the house. Not the jungle.” Automatically she dressed and packed the remaining toilet articles in her overnight case. But the feeling was there, imperious and enveloping in its completeness.
She went downstairs. There was the sound of voices and the clatter of china in the kitchen. Concha and Luz were preparing her breakfast tray. She went out and watched them until everything was ready.
She did not answer, but took the tray from her and carried it through the house, out onto the terrace, where she set it on the table. Everything on the terrace was wet with dew and moisture from the gorge. She turned the chair-cushion over and sat down to eat. The sound of the waterfall took her appetite away, but she thought, “This is the last time.” She felt choked with emotions, but they were too disparate and confused for her to be able to identify any one of them as outstanding. As she sat there eating intently, she was suddenly aware that someone was watching her. She started up and saw Prue standing in the doorway. She was wearing pajamas and a bathrobe, and in her hand she held a glass of water. She looked very sleepy.
“How are you?” she said, sipping her water.
Aileen stood up.
“We’re all up bright and early this morning,” Prue went on cheerily.
“I’m—leaving. I’ve got to go. Excuse me, it’s late,” mumbled Aileen, glancing about furtively.
“Oh, take your time, gal. You haven’t said good-bye to your mother yet. And Jose is still saddling the nags. You’ve got a lot of grips with you.”
“Excuse me,” said Aileen, trying to slip past her through the doorway.
“Well, shake,” Prue said, reaching for Aileen’s hand.
“Get awayl” cried Aileen, struggling to keep clear of her. “Don’t touch me!” But Prue had succeeded in grasping one frantic arm. She held it fast.
“A dramatic entrance is enough. We don’t have to have the same sort of exit. Say good-bye to me like a human being.” She twisted the arm a bit, in spite of herself. Aileen leaned against the door and turned very white.
“Feel faint?” said Prue. She let go of her arm, and holding up her glass of water, flicked some of it into Aileen’s face with her fingers.
The reaction was instantaneous. Aileen jumped at her with vicious suddenness, kicking, ripping and pounding all at once. The glass fell to the stone floor; Prue was caught off her guard. Mechanically, with rapid, birdlike fury, the girl hammered at the woman’s face and head, as she slowly impelled her away from the doorway and across the terrace.
From Prue’s lips came several times the word “God.” At first she did very little to defend herself; she seemed half asleep as she moved toward the outer edge beneath the onslaught. Then suddenly she threw herself to the floor. Aileen continued to kick her where she lay doubled over, trying to protect her face.
“Nobody! Nobody! Nobody! Nobody can do that to me!” she cried rhythmically as she kicked.
Her voice rose in pitch and volume; she stopped for an instant, and then, raising her head, she uttered the greatest scream of her life. It came back immediately from the black wall of rock across the gorge, straight through the noise of water. The sound of her own voice ended the episode for her, and she began to walk back across the terrace.
Concha and Luz stood frightened in the doorway; it was as if they had come to watch a terrible storm pass over the countryside. They stepped aside as Aileen walked through.
Outside the stable, Jose was whistling as he finished saddling the horses. The valises were already strapped on the burro.
Still in the midst of her deep dream, Aileen turned her head toward the house as they rode past. For a brief second, between the leaves, she saw the two figures of her mother and Prue standing side by side on the terrace, the wall of the gorge looming behind. Then the horses turned and began to descend the trail.
The Scorpion
An old woman lived in a cave which her sons had hollowed out of a clay cliff near a spring before they went away to the town where many people live. She was neither happy nor unhappy to be there, because she knew that the end of life was near and that her sons would not be likely to return no matter what the season. In the town there are always many things to do, and they would be doing them, not caring to remember the time when they had lived in the hills looking after the old woman.
At the entrance to the cave at certain times of the year there was a curtain of water-drops through which the old woman had to pass to get inside. The water rolled down the bank from the plants above and dripped onto the clay below. So the old woman accustomed herself to sitting crouched in the cave for long periods of time in order to
