I AM PUT TO GREAT CONCERN ON ACCOUNT OF A PORTUGAL, WHICH PRESENTLY TAKES THE PRETTIEST TURN IMAGINABLE.
The next morning I awoke at daybreak, but lay very still for a good hour, not to disturb my dear lady; and this time was in nowise tedious, for my head was full of glee to think that here was another day of joy before me. And also my mind was well occupied in turning over the particulars of our existence, and devising means by which I might make the day agreeable to my lady as well as joyful to myself.
Among other things, I thought it would not be amiss if I went a-hunting in the woods for some fresh game to replace the buccan, which is at best but an indifferent dry kind of victuals. "Moreover," thinks I, "my absence will give Lady Biddy occasion to bathe her sweet body if she be so minded." Whereupon I cast off my mat, and stepping into the shallow, that I might not overmuch joggle the canoe about, I gave myself a sluice and dressed myself.
Presently my lady, awaking, calls to me to know if it were time to rise.
"Nay," says I, "there is no hurry, for I am going a-hunting in the woods and shall not return maybe for an hour."
"You are sure you will not be back before, Benet?" says she.
"As for that," says I, "I will not stir from the place if you are afraid to be alone."
"Nay," says she, with a little laugh, "I am not afraid of that."
"Then I shall assuredly not be back for an hour," says I. "And if you are disposed to bathe, you will find the water very fresh and proper. I see no danger now, but I do beg you, ere you step in the water, to look well about you that there be no water-serpents nor cockadrils nigh."
She promised me she would be very careful; and so with a bow and a dozen arrows away I went into the woods, as cheerful as you please. And there, after shooting at a bird with a beak as big as his body (which is called a tucana) and missing him, I had the good chance to spy a tumandua, which is a long-haired beast with a snout three parts of a yard long, that feeds on the ants of the earth, which he licks up with a prodigious long tongue, like any whip-thong. I killed him with my first arrow, and having taken the skin off I cut the best parts, packed them in a cool leaf, and left the rest behind. And now I looked about for a milk-tree such as I have spoken of, and having the good fortune to find one I gave it a couple of gashes and drew off as much as a quart of excellent good milk in a gourd I had bethought me to sling on to my waist-belt. And by the time this was done, and I had plucked some good fruits, I reckoned it was time to return to the river; so thither I made my way, stopping now and then to stuff my pockets with such dry husks of nuts as make a brisk fire, and culling a few flowers that I thought might refresh my dear lady's senses as she ate. In this manner I charged myself pretty well: with this under one arm, that under t'other, my pockets sticking out on either side, my bow on my back, and my hands full.
But I was like to let all these things drop from me when I came to that point of the woods whence I could see the canoe, for the boat lay there empty, and nowhere could I catch a glimpse of my lady. But, to my horror, I presently spied, through an opening in the wood to my right, a Portugal (as I accounted him by his dress), fitting an arrow to his bow. I caught sight of him but for a moment, for having fitted his arrow he stole forward stealthily, as if to take his quarry by surprise, and disappeared behind a thicket. Then, as I say, was I like to have dropped all I had for amazement and terror. And now in a moment it appeared to me that my lady, having caught sight of this enemy, had fled into the wood to find me, and that, hampered by the thick growth, she had been brought to a stand, whither this wicked Portugal was stealing upon her to take her life. Whereupon, casting everything to the ground, I rushed forward, hallooing with all my force.
"Turn, villain Portugal!" shouts I. "Here is your enemy!"
But ere I had run fifty paces I was stayed by a new amazement, for, coming to the edge of the thicket, I was brought face to face with what I had taken for a Portugal, and now found was none other than Lady Biddy herself, but arrayed in a Portugal's doublet and trunks like any boy.
Hearing my terrible shout, and then catching sight of me all dumbfounded with astonishment, she must needs fall into a merry laugh; but the next moment she hung her head, blushing up to the eyes, and her knees turned in together for shame to be seen in that dress.
However, coming to herself presently, and perceiving there was no need to be ashamed of that which is done with no ill-motive, she lifts up her head, though her cheek yet burned and her bright eyes twinkled, and tells me how she had begged these clothes (which had belonged to the stripling that was page, as I have told, to Lewis de Pino) of the Ingas for her own use. And now I remembered how, when she stepped first into the canoe, she carried with her a packet which she put carefully in one part of the canoe, where, as may be believed, I had left it untouched.
"I shall need my gown," says she, "when we get out of these wilds, and assuredly there would be little left of it if I tried to make my way through these woods wearing it. Now," adds she, "I need be no plague to you, Benet, when we have to leave the river, for I can pass as readily as you through the bushes and thickets. Nay, I wish to be independent, so far as my strength will allow, that you may not fear to leave me alone if there be occasion; and to that end I was practising with this bow, and I thought I was brave enough for anything till you frightened me out of my wits by shouting out so terribly." And therewith she fell to laughing again; but now she was more at her ease, perceiving that I did not regard her in any unbecoming manner.
"Your judgment is never at fault, cousin," says I; "and sure it is more fit you should travel in this sort than in a gown which you have no means to mend when it suffered by an unseemly rent. Also 'twill be a great comfort to me to know you will not be left helpless by any accident that may happen to me."
"We will not think of such misfortunes," says she; "but I am heartily glad you approve of what I have done; and now, to complete the improvement, do, prithee, cut my hair close with your knife."
"Nay," says I, "that I can not do; you know not how pretty it is."
"Perhaps I do," says she sadly, and yet with a certain depth of meaning that I did not then fathom; "and so do as I beg you; for I can not well do it myself, and I am still woman enough to dread the thought of its being cut away."
"What need is there to cut it at all?" says I deploringly.
"Why," says she, "'tis as like to catch in the briars as my skirts, and the vexation will be greater. Besides, 'tis out of character with my dress, and I wish to feel my head as free as my limbs are. See," says she, undoing the knot and letting it fall, "how unbecoming it is to a young fellow, and what a deal of trouble it may get me into."
Here again was a hint of her meaning, yet I could not catch it then for admiring of the long waving tresses that came down to her waist, and glittered like threads of spun silk, with the color of a chestnut just burst from its husk.
However, seeing she would take no denial, I screwed up courage to take off some of this beautiful adornment; but I would cut it no shorter than her shoulders, which I maintained was the length that pages do wear it. And I would not lose a single hair; but when the business was done I tied the long locks in a thick knot, tenderly and in silence, for my heart was sorrowing with the reflection that one day this would be all that I could have of her.
"You are not going to keep that, Benet?" says she, seeing what I was about.
"Ay," says I, "if you will let me." And then, not knowing any better excuse to make, I added, "It may serve very well for fish-lines if there be any angling to do."
Thereupon we fell to talking of fishing and hunting, as that were the main question (though, so far as I was concerned, it was a long way therefrom), and I took her to see what I had got us in the shape of provision; and, to our content, no mischief had happened to those things by casting them down so hurriedly, for they had fallen into a tuft of grass, and the gourd of milk was unspilt. So we set about making a fire and preparing our food, all with a light and cheerful heart, as if 'twas the most natural thing in the world for my lady to be figuring in the garb of a boy. But when she was occupied with the cooking of the tamandua, under the pretense of seeing that the canoe had not shifted, I withdrew a little out of sight, and having pressed my lips and cheek to the cold shining locks of her hair, I opened my doublet and slipped them into my breast, where I ever kept them thereafter.
And now, to make an end to this part of our history, I must say here that I think my dear lady had another and secret intent in putting on the boy's habit and cutting off her hair, which was that she might that way abate somewhat the passion of love that reigned in my heart, and was, despite my utmost endeavors to conceal it, yet visible to her eyes. She thought, as I believe, that by putting off the garb and character of her sex, I might come to regard her less as a woman, and more as a comrade of my own kind. It is not necessary to be a philosopher—it is enough to be a woman—to perceive that a man's tenderness does increase by the dependence of womankind upon his means and love; and 'twas for this reason she desired to undertake what I undertook, to overcome her weakness, and to stand alone, as one may say.
But my passion was proof against these devices. For I could trace no action of hers to its motive without increasing my admiration and delight in the contemplation of her fine disposition. Nay, the aspect of her mind did delight my soul, as much, I truly believe, as the sight of her dear person; and she could do nothing to conceal the one or disguise the other from my searching perception. "Lord!" thinks I, when I dare not look at her, "can there be another soul so beautiful in all the world?" And then, when her eyes were elsewhere and I could regard her unseen, I would mark the dainty outline of her brow and nose, and the short upper lip that did betray her delicacy, her rounded under lip that spoke of mirth, her full, round chin, in which was no sign of weak or wanton purpose; also (with joy) how her hair that I had cut so barbarous straight did begin to curl at the end, and would sit shining on her shoulder or flutter in the soft breeze lightly by her downy cheek, like a butterfly beside a peach-plum.