But she had only a moment for this appraisal. Seizing her hand again, the woman whisked her up the flight of stairs before them and into a warm, light room. Then, without speaking, she went out and closed the door, leaving the girl alone.
Carmen sank into a great, upholstered rocking chair and tried to grasp it all as she swayed dreamily back and forth. So this was his home, Mr. Reed’s. It was a palace! Like those Josè had described. She wondered if Harris dwelt in a place of such heavenly beauty; for he had said that he did not live with Reed. What would the stupid people of Simití think could they see her now! She had never dreamed that such marvels existed in the big world beyond her dreary, dusty, little home town! Josè had told her much, ah, wonderful things! And so had Harris. But how pitifully inadequate now seemed all their stories! She still wondered what had made that carriage go in which she had come up from the boat. And what would one like it cost? Would her interest in La Libertad suffice to buy one? She speculated vaguely.
Then she rose and wandered about the room. She passed her hand over the clean, white counterpane of the bed. “Oh,” she murmured, “how beautiful!” She went dreamily to the bureau and took up, one by one, the toilet articles that lay there in neat array. “Oh, oh, oh!” she murmured, again and again. She glanced into the clear mirror. The little figure reflected there contrasted so oddly with the gorgeously beautiful ones she had glimpsed below that she laughed aloud. Then she went to the window and felt of the soft curtains. “It is heaven,” she murmured, facing about and sweeping the room, “just heaven! Oh, how beautiful even the human mind can be! I never thought it, I never thought it!”
Again she sat down in the big rocker and gave herself up to the charm of her surroundings. Her glance fell upon a vase of flowers that stood on a table near another window. She rose and went to them, bending over to inhale their fragrance. “How strange!” she exclaimed, as she felt them crackle in her fingers. Poor child, they were artificial! But she would learn, ere long, that they fittingly symbolized the life of the great city in which she was now adrift.
Time passed. She began to wonder why the woman did not return. Were not the Reeds anxious to know of her safe arrival? But perhaps they had visitors. Surely that was the case. It was a ball––but so different from the simple, artless 9 baile of her native town. Stray snatches of music drifted into the room from the piano below. It stimulated a hunger for more. She went to the door, thinking to open it a little and listen. The door was locked!
For a moment she stood reflecting. Then apprehension began to steal over her. She went hastily, instinctively, to a window and raised the curtain. There were iron bars in front of it! She remembered suddenly that prison windows were like that. She hurried to the other. It was likewise barred. Terror’s clammy hand gripped at her heart. Then she caught herself––and laughed. “How silly!” she exclaimed, sinking again into the rocker. “God is everywhere––right here!”
At that moment the door opened noiselessly and a woman entered. She was younger than the one who had met the boat. When she saw the girl she uttered an exclamation. “Lord! where did you get those clothes?”
Carmen glanced down at her odd attire and then smiled up at the woman. “Cartagena,” she said simply. “Mrs. Reed bought them for me. But are you her sister? You don’t look like her.”
The woman laughed, a sharp, unmusical laugh. The dry cosmetic plastered thick upon her cheeks cracked. She was not beautiful like the others, thought Carmen. Her cheeks were sunken, and her low-cut gown revealed great, protruding collarbones. “Come,” she said abruptly, “get out of those rags and into something modern.” She opened a closet door and selected a gown from a number hanging there. It was white, and there was a gay ribbon at the waist.
“It’ll have to be pinned up,” she commented to herself, holding it out before her and regarding Carmen critically.