impression which had been made upon him disappeared. Gradually his
eyes returned to meet those of Yaquita, and he remained thoughtfully
looking at her.
Yaquita took his hand.
“Joam,” she said, “have I been deceived? Had you no idea that this
marriage would one day take place, and that it would give her every
chance of happiness?”
“Yes,” answered Joam. “All! Certainly. But, Yaquita, this
wedding–this wedding that we are both thinking of–when is it coming
off? Shortly?”
“It will come off when you choose, Joam.”
“And it will take place here–at Iquitos?”
This question obliged Yaquita to enter on the other matter which she
had at heart. She did not do so, however, without some hesitation,
which was quite intelligible.
“Joam,” said she, after a moment’s silence, “listen to me. Regarding
this wedding, I have got a proposal which I hope you will approve of.
Two or three times during the last twenty years I have asked you to
take me and my daughter to the provinces of the Lower Amazon, and to
Para, where we have never been. The cares of the fazenda, the works
which have required your presence, have not allowed you to grant our
request. To absent yourself even for a few days would then have
injured your business. But now everything has been successful beyond
your dreams, and if the hour of repose has not yet come for you, you
can at least for a few weeks get away from your work.”
Joam Garral did not answer, but Yaquita felt his hand tremble in
hers, as though under the shock of some sorrowful recollection. At
the same time a half-smile came to her husband’s lips–a mute
invitation for her to finish what she had begun.
“Joam,” she continued, “here is an occasion which we shall never see
again in this life. Minha is going to be married away from us, and is
going to leave us! It is the first sorrow which our daughter has
caused us, and my heart quails when I think of the separation which
is so near! But I should be content if I could accompany her to
Belem! Does it not seem right to you, even in other respects that we
should know her husband’s mother, who is to replace me, and to whom
we are about to entrust her? Added to this, Minha does not wish to
grieve Madame Valdez by getting married at a distance from her. When
we were married, Joam, if your mother had been alive, would you not
have liked her to be present at your wedding?”
At these words of Yaquita Joam made a movement which he could not
repress.
“My dear,” continued Yaquita, “with Minha, with our two sons, Benito
and Manoel, with you, how I should like to see Brazil, and to journey
down this splendid river, even to the provinces on the seacoast
through which it runs! It seems to me that the separation would be so
much less cruel! As we came back we should revisit our daughter in
her house with her second mother. I would not think of her as gone I
knew not where. I would fancy myself much less a stranger to the
doings of her life.”
This time Joam had fixed his eyes on his wife and looked at her for
some time without saying anything.
What ailed him? Why this hesitation to grant a request which was so
just in itself–to say “Yes,” when it would give such pleasure to all
who belonged to him? His business affairs could not afford a
sufficient reason. A few weeks of absence would not compromise
matters to such a degree. Hi manager would be able to take his place
without any hitch in the fazenda. And yet all this time he hesitated.
Yaquita had taken both her husband’s hands in hers, and pressed them
tenderly.
“Joam,” she said, “it is not a mere whim that I am asking you to
grant. No! For a long time I have thought over the proposition I have
just made to you; and if you consent, it will be the realization of
my most cherished desire. Our children know why I am now talking to