The Queen of the Savannah: A Story of the Mexican War — John Shaqi
The Queen of the Savannah: A Story of the Mexican WarAimard, Gustave
History
The Queen of the Savannah: A Story of the Mexican War
Aimard, Gustave
Mexico -- History -- Wars of Independence, 1810-1821 -- Fiction
Don Aníbal, warned by his spies of what was preparing against him,
resolved on a vigorous resistance; but as he really loved his wife,
and did not wish to expose her to the hazards of a storm, and the
sight of those atrocities which are the inevitable consequence of it,
he arranged with Father Sandoval that he should remove her from the
hacienda as soon as possible, and place her and her child in safety.
When these arrangements were made, the two gentlemen proceeded in
search of the señora, to tell her of the plan they had formed.
Doña Emilia spent a very dull life at the Hacienda del Barrio. Her
husband, who was elsewhere engaged, often left her for days, only
seeing her for a moment at meals, and addressing a few unmeaning words
to her during the quarter of an hour they were together. Fortunately
for the poor lady, the hacienda possessed a magnificent garden. She
spent nearly the entire day in it under an arbour of orange and lemon
trees, reading pious books and watching her child, who was nursed by a
quadroon to whom Doña Emilia was sincerely attached, and had married to
a peon of the hacienda.
On the day to which we allude, at about two in the afternoon, the
warmest hour of the day, Doña Emilia, according to her wont, was
indulging in a siesta in a hammock suspended from two enormous orange
trees, whose tufted crests almost entirely overshadowed the entire
nook. A few paces from her, Rita, the quadroon, was carelessly rocking
in a _butaca_, and giving the breast to the child.
As we have said, the heat was stifling. The burning sunbeams made the
sand on the garden walks sparkle like diamonds; there was not a breath
of air; the atmosphere, impregnated with the sweet exhalations of the
flowers and fragrant woods, was intoxicating, and conduced to slumber.
The birds, hidden under the leaves, had ceased their song, and were
waiting till the evening breeze refreshed the soil; a solemn silence
brooded over nature, and the fall of a leaf would have been heard, so
profound was the calm. Rita, involuntarily yielding to the narcotic
influences that surrounded her, had fallen asleep with the child still
clinging to her breast.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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