The Flesh and the Devil (52 page)

         
Don Bautista moistened his lips-'Married,' he enquired with
unusual delicacy 'or — ah — unmarried?‘

         
Dona Jerónima smiled her approval of the phrasing. 'She
wears a ring on her right hand, but it is only a signet — betrothed, I imagine,
but not yet married. I should say she is almost certainly a virgin.'

        
It would do no harm if Bautista believed as much, her
thoughts added. If the girl was not untouched she had been so very lately and
would deceive most onlookers; and the price she could command for a virgin was
almost limitless while used wenches were rated much cheaper. Don Bautista was
leaning forward; his interest, at least, was caught, 'Does she look as if she.
. . .‘

         
He broke off as Sanchia came hurriedly into the room. In
more prosperous times Dona Jerónima employed a household steward, but these
times were far from prosperous. They would change again, the widow assured
herself philosophically as she looked up at her maid's troubled face.

         
'What is it?' Despite her languid tone, the light in her
eyes conveyed that a trivial interruption would not be welcome. 'Senora, there
is someone to see you. I told her that you; were entertaining another visitor,
but she said that you told her she could call upon you at any time, and that
the matter was urgent. She is waiting now.'

         
'She?’
 
Dona
 
Jerónima lifted her head sharply. 'A young woman? Did she tell you her
name?'

         
'She said that her name was Margarita Armendariz, senora,
and, yes, she is a young woman. She said that you had spoken to her in San
Pedro's Church three days ago.' 'Bring her in.' Dona Jerónima turned quickly to
Don Bautista, with a smile that showed all her small even teeth and lend her a
slight, disquieting resemblance to a crocodile.

        
‗It seems that fate is on your side, my friend. This
is the girl I spoke of, and once you see her I can spare my breath. Now remember,
you know nothing but that she is an acquaintance of mine whom you have not yet
met.' She rose to her feet as the door opened, and held out her hand to the
figure on the threshold.

         
‗Senorita Armendariz? Is there any way I can-why, my
dear child, whatever is the matter?‘

         
Juana had hardly heard the words, but the gentle tone via
which they were uttered broke the spell of fearlessness that had bound her. She
tried to speak, but as the well-remembered scent engulfed her and the strange
woman's hands clasped hers, she gave a short, sobbing cry and stood with the
tears pouring down her checks. She could not move, could not utter a word, but
stood rooted to the spot in an agony of despair.

         
Dona Jerónima waited patiently, making little soothing
exclamations, and was considerably relieved to see that the girl looked
beautiful even in the depths of distress. A red nose and swollen eyes might
have had a disastrous effect on her schemes, but Don Bautista was already
edging closer as though magnetized.

         
‗Come now, senorita, you must calm yourself and sit
down. Nothing is worth so many tears.'

         
The firm tones penetrated Juana's grief and she stumbled
obediently to the couch, where she sat down beside Dona Jerónima. The elder
woman, patting her gently, looked up at her other guest.

         
'Bautista, I think you might go. We have said all there is
to say for the present. You will come again tomorrow.' It was not a question,
and she bent her sleek head over Juana's, ignoring him.

         
Don Bautista, unmistakably dismissed, hovered frustratedly
for a moment longer and then departed with a muttered farewell. He had hoped to
join in the comforting and have a closer look at the girl - but there was time
enough for that, for if he were to invest three thousand reales in this venture
he would be entitled to keep a close eye on his security. Or perhaps - he
halted momentarily as he was about to step into the street, disconcerting
Sanchia if he stretched his resources and invested five thousand, Jerónima
might be induced to advance his own cause with the girl before any other had a
chance to enter the lists. . . .

         
When at last Juana's sobbing wore itself out, she found
chat she had her head on her hostess's shoulder and a gentle hand was pushing
her hair away from her hot face. For a moment she thought dazedly of her
mother, but the shoulder was too bony and the hand too gingerly.

         
'Is it over?‘ a voice asked with an undertone of amusement.
Juana nodded and drew back quickly. ‗I must ask your pardon.‘ Her throat
felt rough and dry, and her voice sounded hoarse even to her own ears. 'I did
not mean to do that, but I could not help myself.'

         
‗I
expect
 
you will feel better now that it is done. Come
now, I will order you something to drink, and when you are able you shall tell
me why you are here.'

         
Juana lifted her head like a wary doe. 'I came to you for
help. You said that you would. . .' Tears threatened to well into her voice
again, and she swallowed hard.

         
'Of course I did, but you must tell me how! What sort
of
help
 
do you need?

         
And what, or who —' Dona Jerónima's lazy eyes brightened
curiously - 'has caused you such distress?'

         
Juana drew a deep breath and stared back into the yellowish
eyes regarding her so steadily. 'It is a long story, senora, and I have been
very foolish.'

         
Dona Jerónima's mouth twitched. 'Which of us has not, in
our time? Tell me your story, Senorita Armendariz, and then I may know how to
help you.'

         
The only help I want is a recommendation to some holy
order, so that I can enter a convent as far away from here as possible.‘

         
‗Oh, no.' The elder woman frowned, then smoothed her
forehead hastily.

         
'That would never do,‘ she added blandly ‗and I am
sure you exaggerate the case, child, if you want this because you believe that
your life is ruined. It is? It can hardly be so, you are too young to be far in
iniquity yet.

         
For a moment the girl‘s long dark eyes met hers in a look
so hard and bleak that she was conscious of a twinge of uncase, but then the
tear-spiked lashes dropped again and Dona Jerónima dismissed her uncertainty as
quickly as it had come. Juana, her hands pressed tightly together in her lap,
kept her eyes cast down so that she could better remember the story she had
invented. She told it quickly and flatly, beyond caring whether it earned any
conviction, yet the very baldness of her words the colorless way she recited
them, made her story believable in a way she did not realize. She told how a
husband had been chosen for her by her parents and how in a panic, she had
agreed to run off before the wedding with one of the household servants, who
had convinced her that he loved her. Her voice shook as she spoke, and the pain
of telling such a lie made her sound truly heartbroken. The servant had brought
her here, to Villenos, and she had learned too late that he only wanted hex for
her dowry and meant to use her money to spend on another woman.

         
‗We quarreled last night-' her voice was scarcely
above a whisper - 'and he threatened to go to her there and then if I would not
. . . welcome him.'

         
'I see,‘ Dona Jerónima observed dryly. 'And you did not?' Juana
shook her head, her lips tight against the sobs that rose freshly in her
throat. She swallowed again, then said, 'He was gone all night, and I waited -
I thought he only spoke so because he was angry, that he did not mean what he
said, but when he came back he told me .. . that he had done what he said he
would. He did not stay long-‗ Her voice almost broke. 'He had only come
to fetch something of mine that he could sell, and when he had gone out again I
came here to ask your help.‘

         
How misleading the truth could sound when it was mixed with
lies, she thought tiredly. She sat still and rigid now that her talc was
finished, not daring to think for fear that thought would provoke more pain.

         
Dona
 
Jerónima
said crisply, 'This man - he is the reason you wish to run away to a nunnery?'

         
Juana winced, then spoke with unnatural care. ‗I
could not endure,‘ she said through an aching throat, 'to set eyes on him
again.

         
Why, the little fool really loves him. Dona Jerónima
thought with swiftlyconcealed surprise, but that will soon past. A servant
would have no power against what she meant to do, even if he repented of his
own stupidity in driving her away and sought to take her back later. The
important thing was that the girl should be entirely friendless in the town -
it would make Dona Jerónima's task so much easier. In tones of careful sympathy
she probed, 'And you have no one you might go to? Whose advice you might ask?'

         
'Only the family we lodge with, and they are Fel -his friends.
They would never believe ill of him, and I had rather they thought I deserted
him without cause.' They I are kind people, and I do not want to hurt them.'