Nacha Regules

by Manuel Gálvez

Monsalvat noticed that the youth who had been drinking beer with her was watching him. In the inner room a tango was going on. From the patio Monsalvat could see the profile of a tall mulatto who was playing the piano, in a very temperamental style, striking the piano case, whistling, breaking out into song. The air was heavy with odors and smoke, and the sensuousness of the dance floated out into the patio like the scent of an overripe fruit. Monsalvat was on the point of leaving, tired of his vain attempt to get information, when the girl suddenly changed her manner. Monsalvat thought he had noticed the youth making signs to her, but at the time attached no importance to this detail. Gertrude, now gracious and smiling, said that she would give him the address of the house the girl was supposed to be in; but begged him not to tell anyone she had done so, or they would kill her. At this point the youth drew near, and in greeting to Monsalvat, removed his cap. Gertrude mentioned a street and number, and explained to the youth what it was all about. The latter offered to accompany Monsalvat. He knew the house in question, and if the gentleman went alone, they would not let him in. The young fellow appeared good-natured, and Monsalvat concluded that he was probably a young workman. With his characteristic hopefulness where human nature was concerned he accepted the proffered company, and, after the youth had taken leave of three or four friends there, they started off together.

For a quarter of an hour they walked through dark streets entirely unknown to Monsalvat. Then they came out on a wilderness of vacant lots. Suddenly, as they turned a corner, his guide gave a peculiar whistle so shrill that it pierced the darkness like a knife. Before Monsalvat could ask what this meant he saw four toughs descending on him with pointing revolvers. Obviously this was no time for talk, nor for complaint. Resignedly he handed over all the money he had with him.

He was not disheartened, however, nor was he angry with the thieves. He told himself that the poor devils no doubt needed the money, and thought no more of the incident. Following, as he believed, the same road he had come by, he reached the river, and at sight of it, felt that he had returned again to civilized regions. After inquiring his road, he started off on foot, for he had no other way of covering the long distance separating him from la Boca.

As he went along he pondered his situation; and doubt tormented him. Failure appeared constantly in his path. For the hundredth time he went over the confession Nacha had made to him in Julieta's presence on the eve of her abduction. How could she possibly fear being attracted by Arnedo, brutal and tyrannous as he was? How, after several months of an honest and decent life, could it be so easy for her to go back to a vicious world? Yet that was what her return to Arnedo meant. What unfathomable depths, what mysteries there are in human hearts! He could not believe that Nacha had ceased to love him. She loved him, not only, as she supposed, as a daughter loves her father, or as a sister her brother, or a believer God: she loved him with her whole being. But Nacha must have had her moments of doubt too, and it was then that the memory of her life with Pampa, its violences and its caresses, must have pursued her as Pampa himself was doing; and her very honesty with herself would in such a case make her feel ashamed, and confirm her fears that she was destined to an evil life.

He was following the river bank where old boats lay sleeping. A sailor's chanty disturbed the silence. Taverns, bearing exotic names that recalled all the countries of the earth, lined the other side of the street, and within, grimy men were drinking. Monsalvat thought of his earlier years, of his travels, of his sojourns in Italy, of the women who had loved him, of his carefree and happy life. And there he was, on his way back from a house of ill-fame, fresh from the society of a thief, trudging along in this wretched district, in search of a lost woman! And he felt an immense pity for himself....

He asked a passer-by to direct him to the address Gertrude had given him. It was not far from there. With a good-bye to the river, which had summoned before him some of his happiest memories, saddening him withal, he set out for his destination.

Now he was passing through a street which had on one side a high wall, possibly that of a cathedral, or a convent, or perhaps merely that of a factory, a black railing topping it; and now he was going down another street lined with taverns, and Scandinavian lodging houses. Monsalvat looked in through some of the open doorways, his eye attracted by foreign wall decorations. In one of these lodging places, the proprietor and his family were entertaining the boarders. A small house, its balconies full of potted flowers, rubbed shoulders with a tightly closed hovel in front of which was a street lamp bearing the legend "Fram." In another of these taverns an old street-walker, wearing an extraordinary assortment of garments, and ironically enough preserving, even in her present decay, something of the unusual, even noble beauty she had once possessed, was amusing, with her drunken antics, four tall, fair-haired and silent men who were evidently sailors. Monsalvat passed on through another street, shaded by a few trees; and the taverns here, with their walls of one color, vivid blues, or greens, suggested the decorations of Russian ballets. Finally, among the shanties built on piles, because of flood tides, and constructed of the cheapest sort of wood, with tin roofs, he found the address Gertrude had mentioned; for it was not fictitious. Pushing open the door, he went in. No, Nacha could not possibly be here. No one could be capable of holding a woman prisoner in such a place. Only the off-scourings of the human race could frequent such a den as this! The patio, of large proportions, opening into low-ceilinged rooms, was roofed over. About fifty individuals, dirty and ill-smelling, sat, or stood about, in groups. There were even some negroes there, clearly North Americans. No one was talking. Three or four women, dressed in screaming red, were running about from one group to another.... No! Nacha was not there! And Monsalvat went away convinced that he had been the victim of a brutal joke.

The following day, desperately anxious to find Nacha, and save her from the fatal surroundings into which she had probably fallen, he returned to the house near the Hospicio de la Merced. By dint of money he succeeded in interviewing Gertrude alone. The girl, with admirable levity, laughed at the trick she had played him. Then she tried to put the blame on the youth who had led Monsalvat into the ambush.

"And how is it you are living with a thief?" Monsalvat inquired.