Monsalvat started out again. Twice he had gone down into this hell; he had never thought he would have to descend to the very lowest circles of the abyss. But for Nacha's sake he went even into those ghastly caverns where lie the unhappy beings who have lost not only their bodies, but their minds and their souls too. And as he wandered among the shades there—they could not be called living beings—Monsalvat wondered how this last of all crimes could be allowed in a world that also contains beauty and kindness; for these women had been degraded from the human estate to that of beasts. And other human beings had allowed this to happen; and still other human beings had caused it....
CHAPTER XXI
The quest through la Boca proved vain. No one would give him any information. But he was sent hither and yon, serving now as a joke and now as a prey to robbers. He was always assured that such and such an individual could no doubt tell him what he wanted to know, and Monsalvat would run this clue down, from café to café, from tavern to tavern. In this fashion he traversed the entire district of la Boca, that sinister "Tenderloin" of Buenos Aires. He went to gaming houses, lupanars, saloons. He entered cheap hotels and lodging houses.
Here English or German phrases fell on his ear; there he heard Norwegian, Russian, or Finnish. In another quarter he found a medley of Balkan tongues, and in yet another he recognized the barbarous Arab dialects of Northern Africa. One day he found himself at a Korean bar; on another in a Chinese eating house. Once he made his way into a gathering of Turks. In the course of one month he encountered all kinds of people. A motley throng of gamblers, down-and-outs, and criminals passed before him: yet all was useless. He learned nothing of Nacha.
He went back one afternoon to the house where she had been kept a few days, and wondered why he had not thought of doing so before. Instead, however, of questioning the girls, he interviewed the proprietress in person, and offered to give her a thousand pesos if she could provide him with reliable information concerning Nacha's whereabouts. The woman was an old creature full of cunning and lies, hard to understand because of her mumbling and her odd use of words. She was smoking stubby cigars which she made herself, from Paraguay tobacco. But the sum this caller offered for a little information made her open her wrinkled eyelids wide. She began to tell him all she knew.
It so happened also that she detested Pampa. He had treated her badly on various occasions, using her for the accomplishment of his crimes, and then failing to pay for her services. With the help of his patota, and Mauli, he had brought Nacha to her house where she was kept locked up like a prisoner. She would not allow any man to come near her, however, screaming, scratching and biting like a fury. Finally Arnedo, revolver in hand, made her write to Monsalvat, thinking to tame her in that way and show her how useless any resistance was.
"How did she receive Arnedo's attentions?" Monsalvat asked.
"You ought to have seen her!" the old woman replied, drawing at her cigar butt. "She called him names, just the way she did me, and everyone else she could think of. What words she used! And he didn't run after her much either! I guess he brought her here to get even with someone. With whom? How should I know, son?"