Read Ebook: Nacha Regules by G Lvez Manuel Ongley Leo Translator

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Ebook has 715 lines and 52222 words, and 15 pages

Mlle. Dupont would quite frequently visit Nacha in her room.

"Always alone!" she would exclaim, clasping her hands, and shaking her head. "Would you care for a little company?"

"Yes, indeed; I'd be delighted!"

Then she would sit down beside Nacha and tell her what a fancy she had taken to her, and how she hoped she would never leave her house, and how much she enjoyed her.

"You are such a good girl, Nacha!"

"Oh, 'good,' Mademoiselle!"

Her landlady continued in eulogistic strain; and then came the moment for exchanging confidences! She wanted to know "everything" about her new friend, about her family, about the kind of work she had done, and what she lived on.... Nacha trembled before this curiosity. What should she reply? Such questions from anyone else would have annoyed her; but in "Mademoiselle's" case they seemed prompted by the affection she professed for her new friend, and a desire to be useful to her, and to know her better.

"Why do you want to know?" Nacha would ask.

"Oh, Mlle. Nacha! Nothing! Nothing at all! You wouldn't believe me if I told you--it's just because I'm so fond of you, you are so good, so--how shall I say--so innocent!"

Nacha reddened. Mlle. Dupont, watching her out of the corner of her eye, and a little constrained, reddened also. "Oh, I can tell at a glance! You are not like some of the other girls I have known. As for me I admire goodness so much that I cannot understand how some women ... I don't know how it is! ... you see I was brought up on very religious principles; and I can't help having such high standards about character that I really can't endure the thought of the slightest slip.... No, I always say; let a woman have all the faults she likes: but let her morals at least be above reproach!"

Nacha, terrified, was wondering if "Mademoiselle" knew anything about her life; but she could only conclude that her being allowed to remain under that roof at all proved that her hostess was in total ignorance of her history. All these declarations of lofty principles and integrity of character, confirmed by the obvious austerity of her daily life, caused poor Nacha to look upon Mlle. Dupont as a superior being. Here at last was someone worthy of her intense admiration! She went so far as to try to model her conduct upon that of her landlady, and avoided going out, believing that temptation and vice hovered outside the precincts of that house of refuge.

But, did she want him to be? What was the strange feeling she had for the man? Love or hate? Sometimes she thought she loved him with all the strength of her being; but when she remembered that she was now without resources, and that she would sooner or later be forced to have recourse to the means of livelihood so loathsome to her, she hated him. Why had he come to her house to torment her? Why had he spoken to her that way, knowing as he must that a woman of her kind is an outcast, and cannot change the manner of life that makes her so? Was he perhaps a lunatic, who took pleasure in doing her harm? Her head swam with all these questions and uncertainties. Then again at times she reproached herself for having driven Monsalvat away. How happy it made her even to remember that he had thought they might be friends!

Meanwhile Nacha was living on the money she had raised by pawning a few jewels. She was sorry now not to have accepted the sum Arnedo had offered her. Why so many scruples about accepting money? They became her strangely! Mlle. Dupont required payment in advance; so that she had had to part with a small brooch on the very day of her arrival in the boarding house. The jewels she still possessed were of a very modest sort and would scarcely provide her with means for even a month.

When she left Arnedo's apartment it was not with the intention of trying to lead a decent life. Convinced that she could not help being what she was, she had resolved to go on making a living as before. But now two things held her back; the memory of Monsalvat, and her regard for Mlle. Dupont. Never, while in that house, could she fall short of her "Mademoiselle's" ideals! The Frenchwoman's eloquence on the subject of "character" had impressed her. She felt the charm and the tranquillity of living respectably; and it was not merely the happy freedom from remorse which soothed her: the decency within her seemed, at last, to have found a home.

More helpful than anything else, however, was the thought of Monsalvat. In spite of her apparent evasion, he had conquered her, leaving on her spirit an ineffaceable imprint. Simply remembering him made it impossible for her to take up again her shameful profession; and when, hard pressed by need of money, or by habit of mind, she thought of yielding, Monsalvat's image appearing before her, imperious yet kind, strengthened her impulse to resist.

A month and a half passed while Nacha lived on in a beclouded dream, completely inactive. She got up at eleven, lunched with the other boarders, spent the afternoon in an easy chair, dreaming, reading, letting her somewhat indolent imagination wander; or she would lend herself to confidential chats with "Mademoiselle." She almost never went out. In the evening, after dinner, she joined the other boarders at their card games, and then went to bed late.

She did not care to call on her friends, for fear they would drop in to see her and compromise her with "Mademoiselle." Sometimes she thought she would go out to try to discover Monsalvat's whereabouts; but she knew nothing of his occupations, his associates, or the places he frequented. She felt certain that his being in the cabaret was quite accidental, and that, as he could scarcely hope to see her there, he would never go back.

On the few occasions when Nacha went out it was with Mlle. Dupont. One afternoon the latter insisted on Nacha's accompanying her to a "meeting." Nacha, curious, and eager for diversion, accepted the invitation, and together, they drove to a house in Independence Street. On the door Nacha saw a sign bearing a proper name and under it the legend "Happiness taught here." Beyond this door, in a room of small size, were several benches and chairs, occupied by a scattering of people. An individual, who looked like a Gypsy, was standing before this audience addressing it. Just as Nacha and Mlle. Dupont came in, he gave the order "Grand Chain!" and Nacha could not help laughing at this reminiscence of a country dance. "Mademoiselle" looked solemn reproof at her. The participants in the performance, men and women, as soon as they heard these words, took hold of hands and stood in a circle until the Gypsy-like performer, with a sanctimonious air, announced that "the spirit" had taken possession of him. One of the audience asked the spirit several questions, which the man answered in a faint, doleful, ghostly voice that seemed to come from beyond the tomb. When the questions were disposed of, Nacha, who had been frightened at first, wanted to speak with Riga. If she could only ask him what she should do! but she did not dare. Besides it was late and the man announced that the s?ance was over.

After their return to the house Nacha and Mlle. Dupont could talk of nothing but the spiritualist meeting. Mademoiselle was a fervent believer in all such manifestations, which did not prevent her being an extremely devout Catholic, and the esteemed friend of some French priests who frequently called upon her. Nacha inquired of "Mademoiselle" if spirits knew everything.

"They are better than cards then? Or fortune tellers?"

Nacha liked to have her fortune read from cards at frequent intervals. Now she thought she would prefer to talk with Riga, the "professor of happiness" acting as medium. Riga would not lie to her. Nevertheless, on the two or three other occasions when she went to a spiritualist s?ance she had not the courage to ask that Riga's spirit be summoned. It was not so much shyness nor shame which held her back, as fear--Riga would be sure to reproach her for her manner of living....

But one day a strange thing happened! Nacha unwittingly came upon Mlle. Dupont in circumstances so compromising to that lady that Nacha, confused, and distressed, thought only of relieving her friend's embarrassment. Nothing, thought Nacha, but her entire confidence could show Mlle. Dupont that she still held her in high regard. So, swayed by a generous impulse, she told her hostess the story of her own life. And when she had done so Mlle. Dupont turned upon her with a request for the month's rent!

Another crumbled illusion! Nacha wept bitterly over its ruins. It was faith in this woman's strength which had helped her all this while to resist despair; now she had lost the only refuge she knew in the whole world; and tomorrow she would lose what would cost her more than either of these: she would lose hope in herself. She would have to go back to the world which had doomed her to a disreputable life, which would allow her to live no other....

She decided, however, before taking any other measure to meet Mlle. Dupont's demands for money, to call on Torres for help. But, the next day, early in the morning, the servant told her that one of the priests who frequently called on Mlle. Dupont wanted to speak to her. Nacha went to the parlor. Father Duchaine, round of figure and of face, sat there waiting for her. His gestures too were round, as were his short fat fingers; and he spoke with a round little mouth. Nacha did not conceal her astonishment at this unexpected call.

"Mademoiselle, the fact is...."

He stood, apparently searching for words with which to state the fact, gazing at the floor, placing his right hand on his mouth, and taking it away when his meaning required the elucidation of a circle described by a fat arm in the air.

"You know Mademoiselle! Such a saint! Her parents, although they were not Catholics, were good people, God-fearing, virtue-loving. Providence was watching over our dear Mademoiselle! When they died, her aunt, a good religious woman, took her to live with her; and in this aunt's house Mademoiselle became a convert."

Nacha, gazing wide-eyed at the priest, wondered what this was all about.

"Well, you know, you understand of course--in short, it seems that your life has not been exactly--what can I say--exemplary! Perhaps I am not clear.... You know, you understand, that in this house ... where ... how shall I put it?..."

His eyes rolled upward, and he wriggled in search of elusive phrases. His arm beat the air when suddenly the desired words slipped into place, and beaming, he exclaimed, "where virtue is crystal pure! You see that you ... with your way of living ... and no ... that is to say ... well, it really will not do for you to remain here!..."

"You mean, she is putting me out of the house!" exclaimed Nacha, with indignation.

"Ah!... You understand.... Yes, you understand--precisely!..."

"Very well, I shall go today. Now be so kind as to leave me."

The priest made a well rounded bow, and went out. Scarcely had he set foot in the hall than he returned, for he had heard Nacha calling him.

"You wish...?"

Nacha had for a moment thought of throwing more light on the "crystal pure" virtue to which the priest had alluded. She would have enjoyed the relief of striking out once at least at the perversity and hypocrisy her landlady represented....

"What is it, se?orita?"

But Nacha suddenly felt that such vengeance was a small piece of business. No, it was not in her to be petty in this fashion! Let this woman put her out on the street; let her tell her priests what Nacha had told her in confidence in order to console her; let her do what she would! She, at least, Nacha Regules, could not betray to anyone what she had promised never to reveal!

"Nothing, Father! Leave me, please!"

She went to her room, dressed as carefully as the day before, and went out to the street. There she took a passing taxi, giving the chauffeur the address of a boarding house in Lavalle Street. She would never be asked if her past life had been "exemplary" before being admitted to lodge in this house!

Mme. Annette's house, facing a well-known park, was the most aristocratic of its kind in all Buenos Aires. It was a resort of millionaires, prominent politicians, and representatives of the city's best families. At times half the cabinet was to be found there, not, of course, assembled in council. Public report had it that when the Chamber of Deputies lacked a quorum, it was customary to telephone to Mme. Annette's; and never had this measure, unparliamentary though it might be, failed to produce satisfactory results. At the very entrance one began to breathe an air of luxury; then one stepped into a world of silks, embroideries, gilt furniture, rich rugs, and heavy hangings. A persistent aroma of rose water was wafted through the rooms, where a subdued, mysterious, light invited to low-voiced conversation.

Nacha was waiting in a small inner reception room. A woman, whom she did not know, was also sitting there; "Madame" had left them for a moment to receive a caller. Suddenly a familiar figure appeared in the doorway. "Amelia!" Nacha, with an exclamation of surprise, ran to meet her friend, and kissed her.

"You here! Why, didn't you get married?" She lowered her voice at the question. Amelia might feel ashamed in the presence of the strange woman....

"Yes, I got married.... But ... here I am just the same!"

She talked in a very loud voice, laughed boldly, and emphasized whatever she had to say with graceful movements of her snake-like body and her long thin arms. She was dressed in a somewhat fantastic and exuberant fashion, not without elegance. A strong scent of violets pervaded the atmosphere about her.

"I should worry!" she continued; "Listen, little one. I'll admit that when I got married I had some idea of living respectably. That's the truth. You can say what you like. But you don't know what I married. He used to work when he was a bachelor--in a dry goods store. But after we were married he left his job, and wanted to live on me--thought I could go right on doing what I did before. Well, this is what I said to him: I said, "All right. I'll go back to the old life; but feed you with the money I earn? Not much! So here I am. How do I look? Not getting old very fast, eh?"

"You look splendid, Amelia, and more attractive than ever. What a figure you have!"

"It isn't so bad, is it? But it's wasted on the old fogies who come here. It makes you tired. Say, do you remember the wild times we had, Nacha, when we were just kids, and I called myself an anarchist, and said everybody ought to have one good fling at life?"

"And aren't you an anarchist now?"

"Me? You're crazy, little one. No more of those fool ideas for me. Listen, I'm convinced now that we girls of the profession are one of the strongest pillars of society...."

She flung this out in ringing tones; and then, at Nacha's horrified expression, burst out laughing, throwing herself over to one side of her chair with the sensuous grace and calm indifference of a cat.

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