The Underdogs: A Novel of the Mexican Revolution — John Shaqi
The Underdogs: A Novel of the Mexican RevolutionAzuela, Mariano
History
The Underdogs: A Novel of the Mexican Revolution
Azuela, Mariano
Mexico -- History -- Revolution, 1910-1920 -- Fiction
She threw away the leaf she had crumpled in her hand and covered her
face with a corner of her apron. When she opened her eyes, Luis
Cervantes had disappeared.
She followed the river trail. The river seemed to have been sprinkled
with a fine red dust. On its surface drifted now a sky of variegated
colors, now the dark crags, half light, half shadow. Myriads of
luminous insects twinkled in a hollow. Camilla, standing on the beach
of washed, round stones, caught a reflection of herself in the waters;
she saw herself in her yellow blouse with the green ribbons, her white
skirt, her carefully combed hair, her wide eyebrows and broad forehead,
exactly as she had dressed to please Luis. She burst into tears.
Among the reeds, the frogs chanted the implacable melancholy of the
hour. Perched on a dry root, a dove wept also.
XV
That evening, there was much merrymaking at the dance, and a great
quantity of mezcal was drunk. "I miss Camilla," said Demetrio in a loud
voice. Everybody looked about for Camilla.
"She's sick, she's got a headache," said Agapita harshly, uneasy as she
caught sight of the malicious glances leveled at her.
When the dance was over, Demetrio, somewhat unsteady on his feet,
thanked all the kind neighbors who had welcomed them and promised that
when the revolution had triumphed he would remember them one and all,
because "hospital or jail is a true test of friendship."
"May God's hand lead you all," said an old woman.
"God bless you all and keep you well," others added.
Utterly drunk, Maria Antonia said: "Come back soon, damn soon!"
On the morrow, Maria Antonia, who, though she was pockmarked and
walleyed, nevertheless enjoyed a notorious reputation--indeed it was
confidently proclaimed that no man had failed to go with her behind the
river weeds at some time or other--shouted to Camilla:
"Hey there, you! What's the matter? What are you doing there skulking
in the corner with a shawl tied round your head! You're crying, I
wager. Look at her eyes; they look like a witch's. There's no sorrow
lasts more than three days!"
Agapita knitted her eyebrows and muttered indistinctly to herself.
The old crones felt uneasy and lonesome since Demetrio's men had left.
The men, too, in spite of their gossip and insults, lamented their
departure since now they would have no one to bring them fresh meat
every day. It is pleasant indeed to spend your time eating and
drinking, and sleeping all day long in the cool shade of the rocks,
while clouds ravel and unravel their fleecy threads on the blue shuttle
of the sky.
"Look at them again. There they go!" Maria Antonia yelled. "Why, they
look like toys."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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