For some time Julie had noticed standing either in the road or in the stall of Pietro Poro opposite her window, an old woman, who always stared into the distance as if she were stone—with that fashion of patience these people had when they were waiting for something to come to pass. She was withered and darkened, as if she had traveled through endless hot winds. She always carried in front of her a flat basket like a tray, which was supported by a cord bound round her head.
When Julie asked the native teachers what the old woman was waiting for, Mariana, the more imaginative one, replied that she was not waiting for any one, that she was “watching the world go by.” Mariana thought she was a caster of spells; but male common sense asserted itself in Clarino, who explained that she was a herb-woman. Julie had not before seen a vendor of this type, but she remembered odd little bundles of dried leaves that had been sold as medicine in the fairs of Nahal—for it was only at such celebrations that Guindulman had displayed an open market. She recalled how Gregorio used to bring these mysterious bundles home and munch at them as a remedy for some impalpable disorganization which he professed to feel in his gorilla-like frame. When one day she had asked him their utility, his reply had been a vigorous pass across his vital organs and a gustatory declaration, “Mucho bueno!” She also knew that most of the ladies of the garrison had used a highly efficacious soapy bark for shampooing; it had saved more than one head of hair.
One afternoon when Julie descended the steps, she found the old woman at the door. She held up a small bundle, and murmured something to Mariana and Clarino, who were behind Julie. She had said something to the natives that put her goods in an adventurous light, and they bent interestedly over her basket. While she flung monosyllables at them, she looked keenly at Julie.
Something that flashed out of her glances startled Julie; a glimpse of a myriad of human things leaped out of this herb-vendor’s face as out of a well—darknesses, cruelties, sublimities, and a kind of burning thirst, as if this old thing were a traveler on the deserts of the universe hunting for a spring.
Mariana and Clarino passed on, and the old woman, whose eyes were upon Julie in their distant yet riveted gaze, spoke to her in Spanish. She asked Julie very soberly if she knew where the Covenant could be found.
Julie was stupendously amazed, but before she could reply, the old woman went on to say that she had sought the Covenant on the tops of high mountains and across strange lands. She said that Julie had a light in her face that would lead to it, and that if she would come with her they would find it together.
A fantastic little thrill of exaltation shot through the girl. It was the strangest, the most unaccountable, and the most preposterous offer she had ever had made her. She smiled as she shook her head a little pensively—the youth in her a little sad at refusing any mystic adventure.
The old woman was watching her. Standing in the beating sun, her brows had contracted spasmodically.
“You are bad in the head?”
Julie nodded. “The sun did it, some time ago.”