Footnote
Table of Contents [8] Alameda, a general name for a public walk; literally, a place planted with poplars, alamos.
[9] The name of the viceroy who presented it to the town.
CHAPTER III.
Table of Contents A Mexican Wake.
The company to which Perico had introduced me presented a very singular appearance. About twenty men and women of the lowest class were seated in a circle, chatting, bawling, and gesticulating. A dank, cadaverous smell pervaded the apartment, which was hardly smothered by the smoke of cigars, and the fumes of Xeres and Chinguirito. In a corner of the room stood a table loaded with provisions of every sort, with cups, bottles, and flasks. Some gamblers, seated at a table a little farther off, jingling copper money, and shouting out the technical terms of monte, were quarreling, with drunken excitement, over piles of cuartillas[10] and tlacos. Under the triple excitement of wine, women, and play, the orgie, which had only commenced when I arrived, seemed likely to mount to a formidable height; but what struck me most was precisely that which seemed to engage the attention of the assembly least. A young child, who seemed to have scarcely reached his seventh year, was lying at full length on a table. His pale brow, wreathed with flowers faded by the heat of the stifling atmosphere, his glazed eyes, and shriveled, sunken cheeks, already tinged with a violet hue, plainly showed that life had left him, and that it was some days, probably, since he had slept the eternal sleep. The mere sight of the little corpse was heartrending amid the cries, the gambling, and the noisy conversation; the men and women meanwhile laughing and singing like savages. The flowers and jewels which decorated him, far from stripping death of its gloomy solemnity, only made the appearance more hideous. A general silence followed our entrance. A man, in whom I soon recognized the master of the house and the father of the dead child, rose to receive us. His face, far from being oppressed with sadness, seemed, on the contrary, radiant with delight, and he pointed with an air of pride to the numerous guests that had assembled to celebrate the death of his son, an event considered as a favor from heaven, since God had been pleased to call the child to himself before he was old enough to displease him. He assured us that we were welcome to his house, and that to him, on such an occasion, strangers became friends. Thanks to the loquacity of Perico, I had become the focus on which all eyes were centred. I had a difficult part to play, Perico thinking it right to make it appear to all who would listen to him that no one could kill people with a better grace than I. To enable me to act my part properly, I hastened to put my gloves in my pocket, and affect the most cavalier assurance, convinced that it was prudent to follow the fashion.
"What do you think of the lodging I have found you?" asked Perico, rubbing his hands; "is not this better than what I could offer you? besides, you will now know what a velorio is; it will be a resource in the evenings when you are low-spirited, and have nothing to do. Thanks to me, you will thus acquire a title to the eternal gratitude of this worthy father, whose child, having died before its seventh year, is now an angel in heaven."
And Perico, anxious, no doubt, to have a share in this tribute of gratitude, seized, without ceremony, an enormous glass of chinguirito, and swallowed it at a draught. I witnessed for the first time this barbarous custom, which compels the father of a family to cloak his sorrow beneath a smiling face, and to do the honors of his house to the first vagabond who, under the guidance of a sereno, comes to gorge himself with meat and drink before the corpse of his son, and share in that profuse liberality which often brings want to the family on the morrow.
The orgie, which had been disturbed a moment by our entrance, now fell in its usual course, and I began to cast my eyes about a little. In the midst of a circle of excited females, who esteem it a duty never to neglect a night-wake, I perceived a pale face, lips attempting to smile in spite of eyes full of tears, and, in this victim of a gross superstition, I had little difficulty in detecting the mother, for whom an angel in heaven could not compensate for the angel she missed on earth. The women about her seemed vying with one another as to who should increase the sorrow of the poor woman by their ill-timed but well-meant importunities. The different stages of the disease, and the sufferings of the dead child, were described by one woman; another enumerated infallible remedies that she would have applied if she had been consulted in time, such as St. Nicholas's plasters, moxas, the vapor of purslane gathered on a Friday in Lent, decoctions of herbs strained through a bit of a Dominican's frock, and the poor credulous mother turned her head away to wipe her eyes, thoroughly convinced that these remedies, if applied in time, would have saved her child. Sherry and cigarettes were rapidly consumed during these discussions; then all the innocent games in use in Spanish America were proposed and played, while the children, weary and sleepy, lay down to rest in every corner of the room, as if envying him whose discolored face protested, beneath the withered flowers, against this odious profanation of the dead.
Seated in the deep recess of one of the windows which looked into the street, I watched all Perico's motions with some uneasiness. It appeared to me that the protection he had so suddenly bestowed was only a cloak to entrap me. My features must have betrayed my uneasiness, for the lépero approached and said, by way of consolation,
"Look you, señor, killing a man is like every thing else; the first step is the only painful one. Besides, your sereno may perhaps be like my Englishman, who is to-day as well as ever. These heretics have as many lives as a cat. Ah! señor," said Perico, with a sigh, "I have always regretted that I was not a heretic."
"To have as many lives as a cat?"
"No, to be paid for my conversion! Unfortunately, my reputation as a Christian is too well established."
"But the cavalier you were to kill," I asked of Perico, naturally brought back to the recollection of the melancholy young man whom I had seen kneeling before the Morgue, "do you think that he is still alive?"
Perico shook his head. "To-morrow, perhaps, his mad passion may have cost him his life, and his mistress will not survive him. I have no desire to make two victims at once, and I threw up the business."
"These sentiments do you honor, Perico."
Perico wished to profit by the favorable impression his answer had produced upon me.
"Doubtless-you can not risk your soul so for a few piastres. But, speaking of piastres, señor," he continued, holding out his hand, "I feel in the vein, and perhaps there are still a few pieces left in your purse. If I break the bank at monte, you shall go halves with my winnings."
I thought it prudent to yield to this new demand of the Zaragate. The play, besides, would free me from his company, which was becoming irksome. I slipped, then, some piastres into Perico's hand. Almost at the same moment twelve o'clock struck. One of the company rose, and cried in a solemn tone, "It is the hour of the souls in Purgatory; let us pray!"
The gamblers arose, amusements were suspended, and all the company gravely knelt. The prayer began in a high tone of voice, interrupted by responses at regular intervals, and for the first time the object of the meeting seemed remembered. Picture to yourselves these sots, their eyes glazed with drunkenness-these women in tatters, standing round a corpse crowned with flowers; draw over all this kneeling crowd the vapors of a thick atmosphere, in which putrid miasmas were mingled with the fumes of liquor, and you will have an idea of the strange and horrible scene of which I was forced to become an unwilling eye-witness.
Prayers over, gambling commenced anew, but not with so much liveliness as before. In company, when the night is far advanced, there is always a strong inclination to go to sleep; but when this struggle is over, the spirits become more lively, and get almost delirious and frantic. That is the hour of the orgie: the time was approaching.
I had again sat down in the recess of the window, and, to drive away the drowsiness which I felt stealing upon me, occasioned by the close air in the room, had opened the window a little. Looking out into the darkness of the night, I tried to find out, by the stars, what o'clock it was, and also to trace my way mentally through the labyrinth of streets, but I could scarcely see a bit of the sky, which on that night was cloudy, above the tops of the neighboring houses. I never remembered to have seen in Mexico before this canal with its leaden waters, nor those dark, deserted lanes which ran at right angles to it. I was completely at fault. Should I remain any longer amid this hideous orgie? Ought I not to try to escape, even though it was dangerous, through the streets of this distant suburb? While I was irresolutely weighing all these things in my mind, a noise of steps and confused whispers attracted my attention. I hid myself behind one of the shutters, so as to see and hear without being seen. Half a dozen men soon issued from a lane in front of the house in which I was. Their leader was wrapped in an esclavina,[11] which only half concealed the scabbard of his sword. The others were armed with naked sabres. A European but newly arrived in the...
