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BLACK GOLD 
 
j2^^ 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 NEW YORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO - DALIJIS 
 ATLANTA • SAN FRANCISCO 
 
 MACMILLAN & CO., Limited 
 
 LONDON • BOMBAY • CALCUTTA 
 MBLBOURNB 
 
 THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. 
 
 TORONTO 
 
BLACK GOLD 
 
 BY 
 
 L. ELWYN ELLIOTT (^/ ec 
 
 Author of "Brazil: Today and Tomorrow" 
 
 . r '- 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 1920 
 AVL righU reserved 
 
COPTBIGHT, 1920, 
 
 bt the macmillan company 
 
 Bet up and eleotrotyped. Published October, 1020 
 
 
BLACK GOLD 
 I 
 
 WHEN Margarita came out of the little rail- 
 way station and turned to the left where a 
 long ribbon of sandy road climbed the hill the 
 light was already fading. 
 
 No passenger but herself had alighted from the 
 London train: no other living things were in sight 
 but Bob, the carrier from Sansoe, slowly gathering 
 together the packages flung from the guards ' van, 
 and his old piebald horse, that imperturbable serv- 
 itor, very close kin to Bob himself. When she 
 came back, if she came back, from this rather mad 
 adventure to Brazil, she would find them here just 
 the same, jogging along the moorland roads, she 
 said to herself. The cart passed her at the bottom 
 of the hill, but she smiled and shook her head when 
 Bob offered her a lift; she wanted to think, to have 
 a little time to get her story ready, to render her 
 fantastic proposition clear-cut, before she launched 
 it into the middle of her family. Casual as they 
 were, you couldn't expect them to swallow the 
 Amazon, as it were, without a gulp. The matter 
 would need a trifle of tact. 
 
 Surmounting the rise with the easy swing of 
 the country-bred, she kept her eyes upon the 
 haunted wood just below the crest, not consciously 
 seeing it, but soothed by its dark, withdrawn 
 greenness. The sharp tang of October fought with 
 the vanishing warmth of a brilliant day: the acid- 
 
 425478 
 
%v. . : . BLACK GOLD 
 
 sweet scent of heather and bracken hung in the 
 air. When she reached the top of the hill, abreast 
 of the wood's last trees, she checked her steps for 
 a moment, looking down upon the little gorge be- 
 low with its stream a rosy thread caught up into 
 the sea, itself an opal mirror, and the pale road 
 that left Sansoe below, and rose to twist away to 
 Tregarwith. 
 
 Beyond the bridge over the little river, a few 
 hundred yards after the road began to run up- 
 wards again sharply, a path diverged from it 
 almost at right angles, skirting the rise and seek- 
 ing the sea. Following this line, the girPs eyes 
 encountered a big square house, its back to but- 
 tressing granite, set in a nest of sheltered trees, 
 but with a hardy face turned to wind and weather. 
 As she looked, lights began to appear in the win- 
 dows and streamed from the porch; the door was 
 open for her. 
 
 She still stood without moving, looking at the 
 house and valley and sea and moors, as if they 
 suddenly presented themselves from some new 
 viewpoint; the long lines of dipping heather-clad 
 moorland were red-purple in the dying light, a 
 haze already creeping up from the sea to their 
 margins. The whole bold outline of the country 
 was bared to the sky and the eternal winds, the 
 granite frame only lightly covered with the close 
 mantle of grass and heather, ling and gorse; woods 
 there were, but these crouched in hollows in the 
 mass of purple heights and shoulders, sheltering 
 from salt air and beating storms. Last she looked 
 at straggling Sansoe, a double line of sturdy stone 
 cottages set along the banks of the river in their 
 slip of a haven. But Margarita saw the village not 
 as a haven but as a starting point for great ad- 
 ventures. In the deep and narrow inlet lay three 
 
BLACK GOLD 5 
 
 or fonr fishing boats, rocking gently, their slim 
 masts high above the cottage roofs, frail impudent 
 craft waiting their chance for sea harvests. 
 
 She walked on presently, but saw no road. Be- 
 fore her eyes was the dark, stuffily upholstered 
 waiting room in the station in London, its coal fire 
 blazing, a fat woman knitting silently in the cor- 
 ner, and Francina standing in front of the mirror, 
 staring at her own pretty face, and talking about 
 Brazil. Wherever there was an accessible looking- 
 glass, Francina was always sure to be in front of 
 it; Francina with her powder puff, her borrowed 
 furs, the hole in her stocking, her gay laugh and 
 lovely eyes, waving her little hands and insisting 
 upon far lands and diamonds. Outside, the chilly 
 mist of London, entering now and again when 
 somebody opened the door, had seemed like a 
 caustic intrusion upon Francina — that bewitching 
 sister with such a reserve of rocky common sense 
 behind all her carelessness and frivolities, and 
 with such deep crevasses of irresponsibility scored 
 in that same rock. 
 
 In what other way could you account for Fran- 
 cina 's romantic error of marrying at eighteen, 
 and marrying, of all people, Salvatore, with 
 nothing in all the world but his handsome Italian 
 face, his nearly first-class tenor voice, and his 
 world-wide experience of second-rate, hand-to- 
 mouth opera companies? It had been Francina 's 
 major departure from the serene bee line of per- 
 sonal advantage that she had followed since child- 
 hood; she had always been completely absorbed in 
 her own personality, a vain little peacock accus- 
 tomed to perennial spoiling, and accepting tributes 
 to her fair, angelic beauty with unstirred calm. 
 
 Margarita, three years younger and of a much 
 less sensational beauty, had never dreamed of 
 
6 BLACK GOLD 
 
 criticizing the adored Francie, but now, thinking 
 upon the scene she had left, she felt herself again 
 thrilled, almost terrified, by the revelation of a 
 passionate purpose. 
 
 **I want something out of life I'' Francina's 
 voice had said, lowered for the sake of the knitter 
 in the corner. **And for you, too, darlingest child, 
 of course !'* as a hurried afterthought. **I will 
 make the world give me what I want I Look at me 
 and you — aren't we strong and pretty, human 
 beings worth something? How are we going to 
 get it? Think of father, down there in Cornwall 
 with his books — oh!^^ She had powdered her little 
 white neck angrily. '* When I think of it that there 
 are ropes and ropes of pearls, and bushels and 
 bushels of diamonds in this world, and mountains 
 of glorious furs and lace, and I haven't a scrap of 
 any of them! And all of them mined and hunted 
 for and made lovely for women like me. I mean 
 to have them! Margarita, do you know something 
 IVe found out? The only thing it's worth while 
 for a woman to be, is to be a woman.'' 
 
 When they had gone out into the street again, 
 so that Margarita could see Francie into the tube 
 before taking her own train, Francie had stood 
 still on the edge of the pavement to cry out with 
 indignation: *^0h, do look at that terrible old 
 woman! With her Chow and her pearls, in that 
 big green car! Oh, what a crime! Look at her, 
 nearly rolling out of her cushions with fat and 
 laziness, and two rows of pearls round her atro- 
 cious neck! Pearls! Wl^ien I get them I shall wear 
 them all the time. I shall sleep in them. . . . 
 And her furs ! Margie, what a lot of happiness men 
 miss, don't they, not adoring clothes! I wonder 
 what they think about instead? Us, I suppose." 
 
BLACK GOLD 7 
 
 Waving good-by to her sister, she had turned 
 back for a final shot, delivered with dancing eyes: 
 *'Salvatore says that the last opera company that 
 went to the Amazon came back with such tons of 
 money that they all bought villas in the Riviera, 
 except the girls who stayed there and married 
 rubber millionaires — don't laugh, darling!'' 
 
 *^Well, you^YQ got Salvatore," Margarita had 
 reminded her, and she had responded a trille ab- 
 sently: **0h, yes! The precious dear, of course," 
 and vanished in the crowd. 
 
 Margarita had not been affected by the vision of 
 pearls by the pailful, but her heart leaped at the 
 thought of strange tropic lands, of wild sun- 
 drenched forests, of great skies with new stars 
 shining in their velvet depths, of far waters and 
 foreign voices. In the rather queer house of her 
 upbringing she had seen from her babyhood a 
 procession of visitors pass constantly, men who 
 talked lightly of Persia and Samoa, Java and 
 Greenland. How many times she had stood, wor- 
 shipping and curious, before the huge hyacinthine 
 macaw, the evil-tempered bird that had fought 
 the cat and, alas ! died of the victory. Burying him 
 with tears, she had buried an enchanted messenger 
 from wonderful far countries; perhaps, she said 
 now, still regretfully thinking of him, he had come 
 down that very mighty Amazon up whose waters 
 she soon might go. 
 
 By the time she reached the house she had in 
 mind already traversed foreign lands, and was re- 
 turning like one of those eager-talking, hollow- 
 eyed men who came to this out-of-the-way spot to 
 see her father. She turned in at the driveway, 
 looking at the daisy trees with the eyes of a 
 stranger; their stems and leaves were dim in the 
 twilight, but their little faces were as bright as 
 
8 BLACK GOLD 
 
 new stars. Faced with the native granite of the 
 moors, the house was a solid structure, given grace 
 by the thick shrubbery about it and the loveliness 
 of the scene; standing upon a natural ledge based 
 upon and backed by an outcropping of stone, it 
 looked to the sea, but on the sheltered side a ve- 
 randa ran along its flank, with a flagged terrace 
 and pillars twined with hardy roses and clamatis. 
 From this point you looked across the valley be- 
 yond the rolling moors until higher hills barred 
 the sky. 
 
 From the great porch door streamed the leaping 
 light of a log fire, and as she went in, unwinding 
 a blue scarf from her throat, shouts greeted her. 
 Gypsy and Brooke, long-legged children, knelt 
 toasting bread before the fire, and her stepmother, 
 sitting composed and cheerful at her round tea 
 table, gave her the large smile that was an unfail- 
 ing part of her stepmotherly equipment. A pleas- 
 ant, stoutish, gray-haired woman, the second 
 Mrs. Channing, with very blue eyes and red wind- 
 whipped cheeks. She had a slight affection of the 
 right eye, a quick occasional movement that gave 
 her an air of humorous twinkling, of having a 
 secret joke with you. Francina always said that 
 Channing pere had married her on this account. 
 *^He thought she winked at him, and you know 
 father's always ready to take a sporting chance." 
 She had been a widow of the neighborhood, and, 
 childless herself, had acquired the family with 
 complaisance, even enthusiasm. A great stickler 
 for non-intrusion, she declined to tread anywhere 
 near the privileges of the lovely dead mother, and 
 refused to be called anything but Aunt Kitty. The 
 two younger children had been quite small things 
 when she accepted Arthur Channing 's invitation, 
 and it was she who had placed photographs of 
 
BLACK GOLD 9 
 
 their mother over their beds, taken them regu- 
 larly to her grave, and taught them to keep half a 
 dozen anniversaries. 
 
 She did not question Margarita about her hasty 
 trip to town, at Francina's rather incoherent tele- 
 graphed behest three days before. **Far be it from 
 me to catechize Arthur Channing ^s girls, ' ' was her 
 attitude. But she looked upon the slim young 
 creature before her with affection that may not 
 have been unmixed with curiosity, twinkling 
 kindly at the glowing face, flushed with moor 
 wind. Brooke and Gypsy were not so discreet; 
 they rained questions on their sister. 
 
 *^What did Francie want? When is she coming 
 down? Did you get that fishing tackle? Did Sal- 
 vatore say anything about his motor boat?'' 
 
 ^^Francina sent her love to everybody,'' said the 
 girl. And, looking across at her stepmother, added 
 a little breathlessly: **She is coming down by the 
 eight o'clock train to-night — with Salvatore, and 
 they're bringing a friend. A friend from Brazil." 
 
 ** That's delightful, dear; we'll put off dinner 
 till half -past eight," said the lady, ringing the bell 
 to give her necessary calm orders, and ignoring 
 the rejoicing war whoops of her stepchildren. 
 **Do have some tea, you must be cold." 
 
 Margarita took her cup, sat down on a low stool, 
 and accepted a piece of rather burnt toast from 
 Brooke 's gallant hands. Brooke, going on for ten, 
 thin and restless, hawk-nosed, had nothing of the 
 grace of his three sisters, for Gypsy, a year older, 
 repeated the lovely lines and coloring of the two 
 elder girls. Dark-haired and lustrous-eyed,^ a 
 secret child, with no other comrade than her in- 
 separable Brooke, she was a boy in his company, 
 and a silent shadow in his absence. No one knew 
 better than these two the crannies of all the 
 
10 BLACK GOLD 
 
 smugglers' caves for a dozen miles up and down 
 the coast; they swam and fished and rowed, gal- 
 loped on their shaggy ponies all over the country- 
 side, conspired and quarreled, and let nobody into 
 their lives. Only one awful grief hung over them, 
 one black threat: the not very distant day when 
 Brooke must go away *Ho some really good school 
 where he'll get well thrashed,'' as his father re- 
 marked now and again, when some special devil- 
 ment of the two came to his ken. 
 
 With the bottom of her cup facing her, Mar- 
 garita took courage; she approached her unlikely 
 tale obliquely. '^Aunt Kitty, Salvatore's bringing 
 his friend — his name's Ware — to tell you and 
 father about Brazil. You see, Salvatore's getting 
 
 up a — Salvatore's very much interested " she 
 
 stopped. 
 
 **Very interesting indeed," said her stepmother 
 obligingly. It was at this not too lucid moment 
 that Arthur Channing, a book open in his hands 
 and another under his arm, strolled into the hall. 
 Margarita, well aware that he had forgotten that 
 she had been away from home, rose and kissed 
 him, looking at him with a mixture of relief and 
 indulgence. Channing was not so much of a 
 dreamer as a man so deeply immersed in the par- 
 ticular studies that attracted him that he had little 
 violent emotion left for the usual concerns of life. 
 He had, no doubt, passionately loved the beautiful 
 Portuguese girl he had brought home to England 
 after one of his periods of travel, but it had been 
 the only stirring emotion of his life. His attitude 
 to his family of handsome and lively children was 
 that of one gentleman to another. Incapable of 
 making money, and fortunately blessed with an 
 inherited house and a small income, he pursued 
 his path, much liked and admired by men, 
 
BLACK GOLD 11 
 
 regarded with some suspicion by women — imper- 
 meable as he was to smiles — and a very good 
 friend to almost anyone. Casual, tolerant, his keen 
 mind was always fixed on the solution of some- 
 thing which had nothing to do with living persons. 
 
 He stooped very little for a man who spent much 
 time among books; he had retained an affection 
 for the outdoor life to which his children were 
 also inclined, and had taught them to be good 
 watermen and walkers, to know plants and stones 
 and stars. He was, at this time, still engaged in 
 the scientific studies whose elaboration brought 
 him fame, if no other reward. He had bright gray 
 eyes, hair that had been fair and was now gray, 
 and a well-trimmed pointed beard. As soon as he 
 had taken his tea and muffin to the padded fender 
 stool, Margarita came to his side, and remarked 
 in an offhand manner: **0h, father, Salvatore 
 wants Francie and me to go to Brazil with an 
 opera company his partner's arranging. And he's 
 coming down to-night to tell you and Aunt Kitty 
 about it. Isn't it lucky Francie and I can sing? 
 And won't it be useful, our knowing some Portu- 
 guese?" 
 
 ** Excellent idea," said Arthur Channing. 
 ''Another lump of sugar, please, Kitty." 
 
 *'We're going up the Amazon, father, to a place 
 that's just bursting with money, and Salvatore 's 
 going to make his fortune at last. ' ' 
 
 If the young woman still watched her father's 
 face with any feeling of insecurity her mind was 
 soon at ease. 
 
 **A most interesting journey," he agreed cordi- 
 ally. *^If I hadn't got this Central African treatise 
 to finish, I should think about going with you, and 
 over the Andes into Peru. There is something 
 above Iquitos that I have always wanted to look 
 
12 BLACK GOLD 
 
 into. Perhaps you could come back that way; you 
 might have time for some very useful investi- 
 gations." 
 
 At this moment Mrs. Channing permitted her- 
 self to speak; her rosy face had taken on a much 
 deeper tint. **I have always heard that that is a 
 most unhealthy region. ... Of course, my dear, 
 you will do as you please! But I think that some 
 inquiries " 
 
 Margarita hastily recalled scraps of her lesson. 
 **0h, not now, Aunt Kitty! There isu^t any yellow 
 fever any more! Truly, Salvatore says so! His 
 friend's been living there four years, and he's all 
 right. He's got a sister-in-law staying at Helston 
 with her children, and he's going to see her, and 
 Salvatore and Francie got him to come here with 
 them on the way. ' ' 
 
 ^*In fact, he is to act as Exhibit A of Amazonian 
 salubrity," remarked Arthur Channing. ^^How 
 did they induce him to come here to display his 
 rude health?" 
 
 **He didn't want to, but Francie made him. I 
 didn't see him, but she says he is an awfully good 
 sort. ... I think he is going on the same boat to 
 Para with us. Father, I'll bring you back a snake 
 skin forty feet long," the girl promised, avoiding 
 the eye of Aunt Kitty. 
 
 *^Very good of you, Margie." He was a little 
 absent-minded, a considering light in his eye. 
 ^*I'll tell you what you really might do for me, 
 if you get the chance. Two things, in fact. I should 
 much like a complete series of the rocky pictures 
 on the upper Rio Negro, and I wish you would 
 go to Obidos and make inquiries about the carved 
 stone pieces that Verissimo says he found there. 
 Make a note of it, will you? You might try to get 
 
BLACK GOLD 13 
 
 hold of some other specimens. I'll give you a new 
 camera if you'll try to get photographs, even if 
 you can't get the things themselves." 
 
 She agreed cheerfully, and presently escaped to 
 her room, where the ancient brown nurse who had 
 come years ago with Arthur Channing's pretty 
 bride from Lisbon followed her, to turn up the 
 flame of the big oil lamp — no gas or electric light 
 had yet arrived at Sansoe — and to adjust the 
 blinds, hang up the discarded clothes, and gen- 
 erally to hover about her senhorita. Margarita 
 regretted the habit of the house that had forced 
 Nair to learn English instead of obliging the chil- 
 dren to acquire more than the few colloquial 
 phrases of Portuguese which were all that the 
 young Channings possessed. She sat on the bed 
 and let the old woman take off her shoes. 
 
 **At least my ears are able to hear Portuguese," 
 she said to herself, and out loud she asked: **Will 
 you come with me if I go with Francina on a long, 
 long journey across the sea, Nair?" She got noth- 
 ing but a deepening of the thousand wrinkles on 
 the old woman's face, that meant an indulgent 
 smile for these tontarias, gave it up, and remained, 
 her arms on the footrail of the bed, musing. She 
 laughed aloud as she thought again of her father 
 — that had been easy, at least! *'If I told father 
 that I was going to the North Pole next week, he 
 would say it was a good idea, and then he'd ask 
 me to try out a new kind of electric ice sledge, or 
 to bring him back a white bear's left toe-nail or 
 something," she decided, and then stayed, dream- 
 ing of wide sunny spaces and a great river with a 
 forest full of flowers down to its lapping edge 
 until voices below reminded her that it was eight 
 o'clock, the train in, and her sister already 
 
14 BLACK GOLD. 
 
 arrived. She dressed hurriedly, slipping into 3 
 pale green summer muslin that made her look like 
 a wood nymph, and ran downstairs. 
 
 On the landing where two broad stairways met, 
 ascending from right and left of the halPs end, 
 she stopped for a moment, looking down. By the 
 fire stood Francina, her face irradiated in the 
 glow of the flames, the borrowed furs still gracing 
 her pretty shoulders; she was talking gaily to the 
 group before her — ^her stepmother in her inevita- 
 ble black velvet evening dress, her father and Sal- 
 vatore. Salvatore's arm was about his mother-in- 
 law's waist, and a burst of laughter came up the 
 stairs as Margarita stood poised. Beside Salvatore 
 stood a third man, rather tall and slender, in a 
 careless attitude, a hand in a pocket; the light 
 struck upon a singularly fair, well-brushed head. 
 This, then, must be John Ware. 
 
 At that moment, as if aware of scrutiny, the 
 stranger stirred, moved out of the group away 
 from the fire, turned and glanced up the staircase. 
 For a second Margarita looked straight into clear, 
 cool eyes before he drew back and she moved 
 down into the hall. 
 
 During dinner and the hours of talk that fol- 
 lowed, Salvatore expounded his plans. Financed 
 in the first instance by a group of wealthy men 
 from Brazil ('*Para, and some place away up the 
 river with a hard name — Man-aiz-os — no, Man- 
 owse, that's how you pronounce if) he had been 
 invited with his partner to take an opera company 
 to the Amazon. **I've got two thousand pounds in 
 the bank this minute. They're bursting with 
 money, and they've no recreations, you understand 
 me, except playing dice and drinking rum or 
 whatever it is." To somebody's interjected 
 
BLACK GOLD 15 
 
 remark about '*a nice kind of environment/' Sal- 
 vatore had loudly protested: ** Certainly they are 
 nice! They're just lonely! Anybody 'd do that 
 sort of thing if they were left alone in some back- 
 woods in the tropics." 
 
 He had to go to Italy to get a chorus together — 
 '^though I could get just as real and good-looking 
 Italians in New York, off Washington Square, and 
 not so ridiculously unsophisticated, if I had the 
 time to go across and get them. It's looks and 
 level heads, as well as voices, that I want. ' ' 
 
 **Dear Salvie can never forget his happy youth 
 in the purleius of New York," Francina had 
 remarked. 
 
 '^ Their second cable said we needn't bother 
 about voices so much as pretty faces, ' ' he went on 
 rashly. **I daresay the Amazon would be just as 
 well pleased if the chorus heads were empty, but 
 if I am going to take a company all that way I 
 mean to present some operas, and no nonsense. 
 
 Why, the last company that went there " 
 
 Meeting stares, Salvatore hastily switched from 
 boggy ground. 
 
 Three incidents of the evening remained im- 
 pressed upon the memory of Margarita. The first 
 occurred when her father, developing a warm en- 
 thusiasm for the Amazonian trip, suggested that 
 Brooke might be taken in the party. '^He seems 
 to have a natural bent for geology, and the need 
 for commercial geologists is just beginning to be 
 recognized. If you could find somebody who would 
 take him over the Andes, you see, it would develop 
 the boy and do him a lot of good." Mrs. Channing 
 here made her protest against the dismemberment 
 of her acquired family. 
 
 '*I certainly didn't marry Arthur Channing in 
 
16 BLACK GOLD 
 
 order to be left alone in the house with him," she 
 declared smilingly but emphatically, a remark that 
 was accepted as perfectly reasonable by Arthur 
 Channing himself. She had turned to Salvatore, 
 always a great favorite of hers in spite of the fact 
 that he had committed the crime of taking one of 
 her beloved Channing children from her, and said 
 quietly to him: '*It was bad enough for Francie 
 to marry you, my dear boy, without your going to 
 the ends of the earth with Margarita too. . . . The 
 greatest comfort I have ever had in my life, the 
 only piece of real luck, was marrying a man with 
 a ready-made family. I only wish there had been 
 eight of them instead of four. I should so much 
 have liked some little ones." 
 
 It struck the silent Margarita, sitting by Sal- 
 vatore ^s side, that this sedate and persistent affec- 
 tion of Aunt Kitty's, so much taken for granted, 
 was a dreadfully pathetic thing; she averted her 
 head, to hear the stranger giving a smiling account 
 of himself, in reply to some question of her 
 father's. No, he didn't find the tropics unhealthy, 
 except that one got a touch of malaria now and 
 again; but that wasn't any worse than a bad cold 
 in the head in northern climates. People should 
 not stay too long in one place. . . . Oh, yes, he had 
 been in other tropical regions — Ceylon and the 
 Straits Settlements, he said, and then, perhaps 
 feeling that he had an appearance of reserve, 
 rather briefly explained a little further: 
 
 **My father had a tea plantation in Ceylon, a 
 very jolly place as I remember it as a small boy. 
 But when I was seven or so they sent me home to 
 school, and I didn't go back until I was over 
 twenty. Then I made a two years' journey all 
 about Malaysia, Borneo and Java, and Sarawak, 
 
BLACK GOLD 17 
 
 and so on, before I took up work on my father's 
 place/' [He stopped.] 
 
 ** Wasn't tea rather badly hitT' 
 
 **Yes, if modem methods weren't nsed to keep 
 the plantations on a producing level with India. 
 But the trouble was that many of the older easy- 
 going planters didn't do that, and then let their 
 places run down when they ceased to pay, instead 
 of speeding them up." Again, with what seemed 
 like an effort, he made up his mind to courteous 
 explanation, and after a few seconds went on. 
 
 **My father was so cut up about things that he 
 died, eight years or so ago, with the estate so deep 
 in debt that I had to sell the house and part of 
 the estate in order to keep the rest. I shouldn't 
 like to give it all up — it is in a ripping situation, 
 in the hill and valley region south of Haputale." 
 
 ^^Hardluck." 
 
 He disowned claims to sympathy. **Lots of men 
 were worse hit. The only thing is, I have a 
 widowed sister-in-law who is a good deal of an 
 invalid, and she finds a cold climate trying. She 
 is always hoping to go back to Ceylon. '"' 
 
 '*But if you are on the Amazon now?" 
 
 ''Well, you see, I kept half our estate — and we 
 have it planted with something else. Rubber, in 
 fact. And that takes six or seven years to come 
 into condition for tapping. So meanwhile T 
 thought I might as well be doing something else. 
 A young cousin of mine is out there on the Cinga- 
 lese place. A very good chap, looking after things. 
 The place paid its way with catch crops of bana- 
 nas and pineapples this year. ' ' 
 
 The entry of the sweets making a trifling diver- 
 sion at this moment, the guest stopped again, and 
 it was under cover of Francina's argument with 
 
18 BLACK GOLD 
 
 her father as to whether she would or wonld not 
 personally test the bite of the piranha ('* Dearest 
 father, my legs are precious to me, if not to you'') 
 that Margarita turned to her neighbor: 
 
 ^*You didn't say why you went to the Amazon, 
 though." 
 
 He gave her a quick, peculiar look, almost 
 startled, almost defensive, before he answered 
 with apparent frankness: 
 
 ** Naturally I am interested in rubber, as I have 
 a small plantation, and the Amazon is its native 
 home, of course. The eastern plantations are alien 
 immigrants. ' ' 
 
 Channing heard this and remarked: *^Yes, it's 
 like the transportation of the coffee industry to 
 Brazil, in her southern states, isn't it? Trans- 
 ferences of whole industries . . . there must be an 
 enormous difference in Ceylon 1 ' ' 
 
 **A11 the difference between any highly organ- 
 ized industry and one which is hardly more than 
 the work of independent amateurs. I don't mean 
 the marketing part — there the whole world's 
 organized. But the actual base. ... On one hand 
 you have great dense forests, pierced only by 
 rivers, unhealthy, with the rubber trees in the pro- 
 portion, often, of one to fifty other kinds of trees. 
 The laborers don't work for wages, and ar^prac- 
 tically their own masters, except that they are 
 always deep in debt to the middleman who fitted 
 them out; they work solitary, often fall sick and 
 die without anyone knowing about it, in their 
 huts in the forest. And then in contrast we have 
 huge plantations closely planted with the one tree; 
 organized bands of hired men working under con- 
 stant supervision; scientific methods in prepara- 
 tion of the gum for the markets. Nothing is left 
 to chance." 
 
BLACK GOLD 19 
 
 "It doesn't seem as if the Amazon could survive 
 in competition . . /' 
 
 "Yes, because after all it does produce the best 
 rubber. '^ He said this with a final air and turned 
 to Mrs. Channing with a question about Cornish 
 cream — a subject that always lighted the spark 
 of battle in her eye. But Margarita, whose inter- 
 est in rubber was confined to ink erasers and wad- 
 ing boots and waterproofs, retained within her 
 memory, nevertheless, the curious look that the 
 stranger had given her when she asked her idle 
 question. 
 
 The third impression was made by Francina, 
 who came to her sister's room after good nights 
 had been said, radiant, delighted that possible 
 family objections to the fantastic enterprise had 
 been so easily vanquished. She took a candle and 
 held it below the picture of their mother, regard- 
 ing the exquisite face with intense interest. "Ah, 
 our angel mother!" she cried to Margarita, facile 
 tears in here eyes. "How much more beautiful she 
 was than either you or me, and yet — if she had 
 only had my head! You must be very careful 
 about your future, Margie! To have beauty and 
 no discrimination — what a disaster! I often think 
 that lovely women ought to be immured in con- 
 vents between the ages of six and twenty, and 
 either taught nothing at all, and their future ar- 
 ranged for them by some clever uncle, or else 
 drilled into understanding that beauty is the only 
 thing in the world that can get everything it 
 wants, if it knows how." 
 
 She closed her lips and stood brooding for a 
 minute; then kissed Margarita hastily and went 
 away. 
 
DIRECTLY after a hurried and early lunch 
 next day, Margarita went to the little room 
 off the hall where the Channing family kept an 
 assortment of cricket bats, tennis rackets, fishing 
 rods and other tackle, oars, sou 'westers, leggings, 
 sticks, and outdoor clothes. She took a light 
 sweater, pulled a tam-o'-shanter over her head, 
 whistled to her too-fat terrier, and went out by 
 a door opening on to the terrace. Climbing the 
 low stone wall, she crossed the bare rose garden 
 and set her face to the moor. It was an afternoon 
 as warm as high summer, the country flooded with 
 golden light, soft billows and pearly clouds massed 
 like mountains on the horizon. As she emerged 
 on to the road she came face to face with John 
 Ware. 
 
 **Are you going for a walk? May I come with 
 you?" 
 
 For a moment she was inclined to say no; she 
 wanted to be alone, to escape for a little while 
 from all this endless discussion, to spend a few 
 hours with her beloved moors before she had to 
 part with them. And this was a stranger. But 
 looking into his face she found some quality that 
 subtracted strangeness, melted her defense; she 
 liked his rather long, fair face, his close-lipped, 
 clear-eyed quietude, his air of ironical cool sweet- 
 ness. Here was something serene and kind, secure 
 and comradely. She smiled at him: **I am going 
 a long way, and perhaps in your tropics you have 
 forgotten how to walk." 
 
 20 
 
BLACK GOLD ^ 21 
 
 ** Perhaps. But try me/' He turned to her side 
 and they walked in silence for a minute. 
 
 '*I'll tell you what I thought of doing," she 
 told him presently, as they reached the highway. 
 **The moors near here are not high enough for 
 me to-day; I wanted to get up into the wind. I 
 thought I'd take the two-ten train and get off at 
 a little place I know at the foot of those hills-— 
 over there — and climb to the top of a favorite 
 tor of mine. Would you really like to come?" 
 
 He would. 
 
 The coming train was already whistling as they 
 crossed the Sansoe stream, and they had to walk 
 fast up the opposite slope toward the little rail- 
 way station, only slowing down as they walked on 
 to the gravelled platform. *^You are not pant- 
 ing! I don't believe you are badly out of training; 
 we did that half mile in eight minutes," she in- 
 formed him, and he took license from her scrutiny 
 to take rapid stock of her in turn. 
 
 '** She's a bewitching girl, almost beautiful," he 
 decided. *^She has a delicious little proud head, 
 and a real air of race. I like her slimness and 
 transparent skin. Those long gray-blue eyes are 
 charming, and what exquisite eyebrows ! And the 
 way her hair grows thick on her forehead and on 
 her golden neck ... an elusive creature, somehow, 
 too." 
 
 She walked like a boy, taking long steps in her 
 short serge skirt, her hands in the pockets of her 
 blue sweater. She belonged out of doors, he said 
 to himself; she was a different and more radiant 
 being than when she was in the house, her ranging 
 eyes and light voice confined to the limits of four 
 walls. In the train he said to her: **I don't know 
 your haunted country. I have only seen it once 
 
22 BLACK GOLD 
 
 before, two or three years ago. I spent nearly all 
 my English years in Surrey, and then in Cam- 
 bridge, and a year in the Liverpool tropical school, 
 you know. But I love Surrey and all heather 
 countries; it's the elixir of life to me.'' 
 
 ^*How do you know it's haunted?" 
 
 **It has the air of it. The breeze seems to blow 
 from some remote land, some enchanted place of 
 the winds; and then, the long flowing lines of 
 purple moorland, veiling their horizons in mists, 
 always seem as if they might lead to some strange 
 end that you can't guess. The stones, too; haven't 
 you got any stone circles or avenues about here? 
 I should always be afraid of offending the old 
 gods if I trod near them." 
 
 She shook her head. **0h, no! That's only be- 
 cause you don't know them. So long as you are 
 respectful, and love them, it's all right. And the 
 moor — it's a kind of cousin of mine, I think. I'm 
 very friendly with it. I have grown up with it . . . 
 here we are." 
 
 Leaving the line of railway, they walked inland, 
 following a sandy road deeply rutted in the 
 middle; upon the margins little heather bushes 
 grew thickly, with the deeper-hued bells of ling 
 between them, like an amethyst carpet. Here and 
 there were darker patches of gorse that, when 
 close at hand, displayed sweet-scented, bright yel- 
 low flowers set among the mass of prickles. 
 
 The road descended sharply and then began to 
 soar upwards, following the crest of a long spur. 
 Soft winds came in gusts blowing sweet over the 
 empty moors; the sky was a pearly blue bowl, and 
 pale sunlight lay in floods upon the wide sheets 
 of purple. Nothing broke the long lines but the 
 heads of the distant tors. 
 
BLACK GOLD 23 
 
 After walking for an hour on the upper moor- 
 land, upon roads that were little more than sheep 
 tracks, they clambered up among tumbled rocks, 
 slippery with wet moss, to the top of Tregennen 
 Tor. This, topping the long rise, was a fantastic 
 pile of huge stones, slabs, apparently heaped one 
 upon the other by some whimsical giant. Sitting 
 down to rest for a few moments, the climbers 
 looked down upon a sea of purple. Margarita, 
 pushing away her wheezing terrier, took tenderly 
 from her pocket the little collection of plants for 
 which she had left the path now and again as they 
 ascended. She spread them upon her lap and 
 showed Ware gravely the bright rosette of sun- 
 dew, its transparent crimson fingers tipped with 
 crystal drops; the white flags of bog cotton, hung 
 upon frail wire stems; a belated spray of whortle- 
 berries. 
 
 *^A queer thing about these moors is that some- 
 times the higher you get the marshier it is,'' she 
 told him. *^I think it's because the clouds swing 
 so low, and soak into the ground for half the 
 year ..." 
 
 He meditated, perhaps in a rather sentimental 
 mood. **If it wasn't for the memory of moors and 
 marshes and woods in spring, one couldn't live in 
 the tropics. I can shut my eyes any day in Manaos 
 and feel my feet on thick grass, and smell roses. 
 It doesn't matter to you so much, because you are 
 only going for a few months' adventure, and if 
 you are homesick you can pack up and come back. 
 But I have to just soak all this into me." 
 
 **Why do you stay in the tropics?" 
 
 ^ ^ To finish something I have begun. To succeed. 
 And partly, too, to make some money. Of course, 
 I could live at home on a fev/ hundreds a year, 
 
24 BLACK GOLD 
 
 but there's my sister-in-law and her kiddies to 
 consider.'' 
 
 *' You could probably make some money in Lon- 
 don or Manchester if that was all you wanted." 
 
 **0h, no I Cities like that would be impossible. 
 Much worse than the Amazon. Bricks and pave- 
 ments and black coats. Much worse! There at 
 least is something wild and unenslaved, to balance 
 the commercial struggle. That exists: you fight 
 for money there just the same as in London or 
 Hamburg or Chicago. But it's at least not tame, 
 not confined. . . . English moors and woods must 
 have sent hundreds of thousands of men into the 
 jungle and desert and arctic ice fields! You can't 
 bear cities if you have once loved trees. Isn't it 
 strange how in a little island like this there's so 
 much wild nature, and one lives so near the soil? 
 You'll realize this some day, if you have to live in 
 some new commercial country where cities are all 
 planked down upon some dull and roadless plain 
 and there are no roads outside, no movement 
 except by train." 
 
 She gave him a beautiful smile. **Yes, perhaps. 
 Now, what shall we do next? You have to catch 
 the train at seven-thirty, haven't you? It's about 
 half -past three now. There's lots of time; we can't 
 get a train back to Sansoe until nearly six. Let's 
 see if we can find a farm where they'd make tea 
 for us. I think there 's a little farmhouse down in 
 that fold, over the road and down the combe, on 
 the other side, where the trees are thick ; you can 't 
 see it from here. I haven't ever been there, but I 
 often go down the valley on this side to something 
 that there is — it's a secret, but I'll tell you if 
 you'll promise never to let any guidebook person 
 know. It's a stone circle that isn't on the maps. 
 
BLACK GOLD 25 
 
 It's a very low one, and the stones are all deep in 
 bracken and heather. Will you come and make 
 obeisance to my godsT' 
 
 **I think I'd better keep at a safe distance. I 
 tell you what we'd better do. I'll take you down 
 and leave you to your incantations, and I'll go on 
 to the farm and coerce them into tea." 
 
 *'A11 right. I daresay there's a fierce farmer's 
 wife who would need coaxing. And there is cer- 
 tain to be a dog who would fight my poor old 
 Nero. Get him tied up, won't you?" 
 
 **It would do Nero good to fight now and 
 again, ' ' declared the rash young man, but quailed 
 beneath the eye of the maiden. Descending the 
 hillside, they crossed the road at its foot and saw 
 from it the deep valley below, half in shadow, a 
 sweet and secret nook, the precipitous sides 
 clothed in glowing purple and yellow and brown; 
 a little stream shone in its depths, blue where the 
 sun was mirrored in it, dark brown where fern and 
 blackberries drooped over it, lace-white where it 
 raced at and over the stones that lay in its path. 
 At the farther end of the gorge, and on the other 
 side of the brook, slept a little wood — no, it must 
 be an orchard. There was a certain orderliness in 
 the arrangement of the trees, and a glint of color 
 that suggested apples. Between their ranks ap- 
 peared the gray roof of a little house, and as Ware 
 looked, fixing the location in his mind before be- 
 ginning the descent among these deep and track- 
 less masses of thick heather and fern, he traced 
 the green line of the hedge, the gleam of a white 
 gate. He saw, drifting blue against the dark trees, 
 a thin wisp of smoke. 
 
 They followed at first a narrow track that 
 seemed to lead direct to the brook below, soon 
 
26 BLACK GOLD 
 
 lost it, and plunged deep into heather bushes, tall 
 rust-brown bracken that stood shoulder high, and 
 scraped their clothes on the golden gorse. They 
 waded in a sea of sturdy moorland bushes, avoid- 
 ing only the bright light-green spots that meant 
 bog. 
 
 When they were about two-thirds of the way 
 down, the ground less steep, Margarita stopped. 
 ''There is my stone circle!" And showed her com- 
 panion a block of hewn granite, a few yards to 
 her left, set deep in honey-scented ling, and 
 adorned with orange-hued lichens. She pointed 
 out the tops of other stones in the neighborhood: 
 **Now I am going to evoke my ancient gods, and 
 ask them to see me safe into the hands of your 
 South American deities,'' she cried. *'But I am 
 awfully thirsty — do go and use your blandish- 
 ments upon the farm lady!'' 
 
 **You can follow me in ten minutes, and if they 
 have got a teapot, it shall be steaming for you," 
 he promised her. 
 
 *'If ! All our Cornish girls are ruining their com- 
 plexions with tea all day long, like the Irish! 
 Father says they'd better drink potheen," she 
 informed him. 
 
 Ware, leaving her, reached an open grassy slope 
 immediately before the brook, but found that the 
 water was deeper than he had imagined, running 
 swift and clear over a stony bed, and too wide to 
 jump across at this point. But looking towards the 
 farmhouse he saw that a line of stepping-stones 
 crossed the water at a point opposite the thick 
 orchard, and so made his way towards them 
 through the denser bushes by the margin. Encoun- 
 tering a patch of small thorny trees that needed 
 careful, negotiation, he went out of his way to 
 
BLACK GOLD 27 
 
 avoid the worst part of the thicket; when he had 
 passed it, and had come back to the water, the 
 close-set trees of the little orchard were directly 
 before him, just across the stream that here was 
 wider and shallower, dancing with a musical 
 sound among the stones strewn in its channel. 
 
 After all, the stepping-stones had scarcely been 
 arranged; they were but loosely scattered about 
 the shallower part of the water, and Ware criti- 
 cized for a moment the farmer's lack of care for 
 his family 's comfort as he picked a precarious way 
 to the farther bank, and raised his eyes to the 
 house. 
 
 At once he said to himself that he must have 
 curiously mistaken the direction while approach- 
 ing, for here was no orchard, but a small wild wood 
 of dwarf oaks and thorns. The farmhouse must 
 lie beyond them. Or perhaps wood and garden 
 were mated in common shelter. He skirted the 
 dense trees, looking between them for the house. 
 
 There, running down to the brook, was the green 
 hedge and the gate surely? But near at hand the 
 hedge resolved itself into nothing but clumps of 
 gorse and briars — and was it possible that this 
 stone had appeared like a wicket? And that there 
 really was none? Oh, no! He had seen it! The 
 house must lie behind the next group of trees . . . 
 but it did not. Walking along the edge of the 
 brook that the garden had seemed to meet, he 
 saw his orchard dissolve into clumps of small oaks, 
 his cottage into a twisted pile of gray rocks. Noth- 
 ing else was there. He came out at the farther 
 border of the wood, astounded but still obstinate, 
 and, climbing upon a steep point of granite that 
 projected near by, peered as closely as he could 
 into the trees. 
 
28 BLACK GOLD 
 
 As he looked, his eyes caught the vanishing trail 
 of a wisp of smoke and he heard a little, sharp 
 sound — like the wail of a very young baby; the 
 house was there, then! In the very heart of the 
 wood. Locating as precisely as he could the spot 
 where it must stand, he plunged right into the 
 trees. But as he entered them they seemed to 
 divide, to spread out thinly, so that the sunlight 
 struck through every part of them; the woods dis- 
 integrated, sparse and open, the trees interspersed 
 with big tumbled blocks of moss-grown stone. He 
 climbed all about the spot, searching it, going 
 down to the water's edge and hunting among the 
 willow-herbs and tall reeds and meadowsweet, 
 trying to find some sign; a footprint or the flutter 
 of a fleeing petticoat would have satisfied him. 
 For even after he had had to admit that the curi- 
 ous juxtaposition of bushes and stones had 
 deceived him — and misled, too, the moor-wise 
 Margarita — that they had created an illusion, he 
 still could not rid himself of the feeling that the 
 place was, or had recently been, inhabited. 
 
 It was warm with humanity; this was no raw 
 and desolate spot. It had the breathing spirit of 
 an inhabited region. In contrast to the wild lone- 
 liness of the moor, where sky and land met in an 
 endless ring of solitude, this spot was instinct with 
 the intimate kindliness of a homo. He strained his 
 ears for the inevitable sounds that some con- 
 spiracy of the moor kept from him; the silence 
 had a suspended stealth. Once or twice he was 
 sure that he heard whispering and a hushed laugh 
 from behind a bush. 
 
 He beat the wood thoroughly before he gave up 
 his idea. Then, recrossing the stepping-stones, he 
 made his way back along the bank, and met Mar- 
 garita by the thicket. 
 
BLACK GOLD 29 
 
 ''Well, they haven't got a teapot," he said, 
 watching her face warily. 
 
 ''Haven't got a teapot!" she stared at him, 
 with, he decided, quite new and genuine surprise. 
 She went on: "I saw you walking in the garden — 
 weren't you speaking to some one there T' 
 
 It was his turn to stare. "Are you sure you 
 could see the garden — and the house? Do you 
 know just where it stands?" 
 
 Still surprised, she replied at once : "Of course ! 
 I can walk straight to the front door." She hur- 
 ried to the edge of the stream, crossed the step- 
 ping-stones with the sure step of a mountain goat, 
 and went towards the wood, hesitating a little and 
 slowing down as she neared it and began to look 
 about. John sat down on a boulder by the brook's 
 edge, lighted a cigarette, and waited for her. She 
 came back in a few minutes and frowned per- 
 plexedly at him. 
 
 "That's odd. I can't find the way to it. Explain 
 tome! What did ?/ot* find?" 
 
 "Nothing. There isn't anything or anybody. 
 I made quite sure. ' ' They laughed out loud. 
 
 "Well, we didn't get any tea," she said. 
 
 "It's queer that you, a moor maid, should have 
 been deceived as much as I, an uninitiated 
 forasteiro, I wasn't quite sure at first that you 
 :iad not put a spell on me," he said. They climbed 
 the hill in silence, she meekly letting him help her 
 .ip rough and slippery places. At the brow of the 
 lill she stopped, hot and a little breathless, turned 
 'o look down, and suddenly caught Ware's arm. 
 
 "But look! There is something there! It is a 
 house! — ^Why, I can see the smoke — look!" 
 
 He looked down and saw the patch of wood 
 again resolved into the semblance of ordered 
 ranks, the dim outlines of house walls between 
 
30 BLACK GOLD 
 
 them, and heard, borne upon the ascending honey- 
 laden gust, a faint sound like the wail of a very- 
 young child. 
 
 They stood motionless, hand in hand, for some 
 moments, until at last she said seriously: **It is a 
 house of faery." She turned a flushed face upon 
 him, her eyes dark, her lips parted childishly. 
 
 **At least we seem to share it,'' he responded 
 gently, and they stood looking at each other with 
 intent inquiry, as if to discover a mystery, as if 
 seeking for some mutual secret. A sudden idea 
 took possession of John "Ware that this young 
 thing, this bright slip of a country girl, with her 
 look of wonder, was beloved now and always. 
 Moved by impulse, he raised her hand to his lips 
 and at that she, by no means embarrassed (you 
 couldn't embarrass a wood nymph), broke into 
 smiles that cooled him. She turned to the road. 
 
 I think that John Ware loved her from that 
 time, although certainly without any thought of 
 rousing love in her; to his vision she belonged to 
 another world, dancing on the edge of a realm 
 that was out of mental and physical touch with 
 the serious and difficult task to which he was com- 
 mitted. But he saw her as a dear and sweet child, 
 an adorable creature, probably destined to some 
 brilliant future in which he would never have a 
 share. They had at least this one thing in common, 
 this partnership in the house of faery, this 
 witchery of the moor. 
 
 They walked to the station in a soft afterglow 
 that gave the heather a bright regal splendor, 
 dying away to shrouded dusk. Arrived at Sansoe, 
 Ware had scarcely time to drink the belated tea 
 that Aunt Kitty had kept, and to return to the 
 railway to take the west-bound train. 
 
in 
 
 FROM that day preparations went forward 
 steadily. Francina, going back with Salva- 
 tore to the London boarding house where they 
 lived rather precariously, paying bills whenever 
 a slice of luck supervened, borrowed a sewing 
 machine and sat all day surrounded by chiffons. 
 A hard worker when she had any interest in work- 
 ing, although hating anyone to know it and con- 
 sistently affecting idle-princess airs in public, she 
 now scarcely raised her head from her dainty 
 seams except to study a score. She sang arias 
 lightly as she cut and stitched. 
 
 Dowered with a good contralto voice of sus- 
 tained quality and fair range, her sound early 
 training had been ceaselessly supplemented by 
 Salvatore during their four years of marriage. 
 She had constantly sung small parts in provincial 
 recitals and traveling companies, and, while Mar- 
 garita's light and flexible soprano outclassed her 
 sister's voice in natural beauty, Francina 's feet 
 were already accustomed to the boards while the 
 younger girl was nothing but a rank although 
 promising amateur. 
 
 They were to sail just before Christmas. Sal- 
 vatore, returning from a hasty visit to Italy, look- 
 ing over the field for a cheap but efficient company, 
 was triumphant and a little boastful. He ran- 
 sacked England now for second hand scenery * ' at 
 a reasonable rate," for most of the drops as well 
 as important equipment and accessories would 
 
 31 
 
32 BLACK GOLD 
 
 have to be taken to the Amazon. You eould de- 
 pend upon faking up garden scenes and ordinary 
 interiors locally, but it was just as well to remem- 
 ber that even canvas and paint might not be avail- 
 able in unlimited quantities. After all, the place 
 was a thousand miles up the river, and the rivef 
 was four or five thousand miles from paint shops. 
 
 This question of scenery, plus the even more 
 agitated one of costumes, offered rocks for the 
 opera program. But it was not until the final 
 decision could be averted no longer that Salvatore 
 called a council. 
 
 Margarita, spending a week in town with Aunt 
 Kitty, shopping joyfully, walked in one foggy 
 afternoon upon the consultation. A somewhat 
 ruffled group, whose storm center was Salvatore, 
 sat about a large table, covered with a mass of 
 operatic scores, lists, sheets of paper, and tele- 
 gram forms. He screamed at Margarita as she 
 came forward: 
 
 ** Margie, you will have to be second violin, 
 leading soprano, and premiere danseuse. How's 
 thatr' 
 
 '^And dresser and sceneshifter probably," 
 murmured Francina, sitting at a safe distance 
 from her husband. 
 
 ** Anything you like,'' declared the girl. **What 
 in the world are you all doing?" 
 
 ** Preparing plans for the siege of the Amazon, 
 my darling," her brother-in-law assured her. 
 *^Come here and sit by me and tell me what you 
 think of this." He took up a scribbled sheet. 
 **You see, we've only got a couple of thousand 
 pounds in advance from our friends across the 
 Atlantic, so we have to go a bit easy on extrava- 
 gances. Francina says she could spend all that 
 
BLACK GOLD 33 
 
 two thousand on clothes for herself, but I say that 
 she and you can have sixty pounds between you 
 and not a penny more. I have to have scenery, 
 don't If" He began to get a little worked up. **Do 
 I or don't I?" he asked the company. '* Don't I 
 have to go back to Italy and drag out of the gutters 
 or some mangy boarding house a dozen of the best- 
 looking girls I can get cheap? Don't I? Don't I 
 have to have some money to get their clothes out 
 of pawn? And to have them all bathed and 
 scrubbed and buy them a change of underwear? 
 Good God, what's two thousand pounds, I ask 
 you?" 
 
 As he addressed the table, Salvatore gradually 
 grew hotter, until perspiration stood upon his 
 forehead; he waved the paper with one hand and 
 with the other grasped Margarita's arm and 
 shook it. His voice filled the room. 
 
 '^You're quite right, Salvie," she said sooth- 
 ingly, smiling upon him with candid eyes. He sub- 
 sided a little. 
 
 **Very well. You always did have a grain or 
 two of sense and sympathy, Margie!" He glared 
 about him. **Yery good. Now let's see just 
 where we stand. First, what are we going to 
 present? . . . 'Carmen' they must have, although 
 God knows where I am going to get the scenery 
 and the clothes: think of hauling it seven thou- 
 sand miles and then another thousand up the 
 Amazon. I am going to cable them that it can't 
 be done. But who ever heard of a tenth-rate opera 
 that didn't give 'Carmen'? If we were going to 
 
 be any class we might have the pluck not to " 
 
 He wiped his forehead. 
 
 *'Very well. There's no difficulty about the 
 parts, it's only the staging and dressing. Why, 
 
34 BLACK GOLD 
 
 you conld sing Carmen at a pinch, Margarita. Put 
 down 'Carmen'; we shall have to give it, even if 
 we don't have any decent scenery. Now, *I1 Tro- 
 vatore' — what do you all think? It's easy, and 
 so's 'Marta.T' 
 
 He regarded the faces before him. Bianca San- 
 tana, swarthy, very handsome, his principal con- 
 tralto, sat with her eyes shut; she had known him 
 for years, and took no notice of his pretense at 
 temper. 
 
 **A11 right. We'll put down those two. Every- 
 body in South America knows 'Trovatore' by 
 heart, anyway, so if my company can't sing, the 
 audience will. Next, the ' Cavalleria, ' of course. 
 There's no costuming in that; you could wear your 
 petticoats, girls, and a red handkerchief. . . . 
 Now, about 'Tosca,' that takes dressing and sing- 
 ing too " 
 
 At this point Margarita interrupted him. 
 *' Who's your principal soprano?" 
 
 He groaned aloud. *'If only you were trained 
 enough, Margie! I suppose I must get that evil- 
 tempered, stupid, conceited, lazy little cat of a 
 Beatriz Sforzi. She knows how to sing, although 
 she hasn't half the voice she ought to have, and 
 she looks well from the front. She will quarrel 
 with everybody, of course, and she will raise the 
 devil generally. That's why she is out of a job 
 just now. I hate the sight of her. But there you 
 are — she knows her business, and she'll travel 
 without grumbling till she gets to the hotel, any- 
 how. That girl was bom on the stage and she'll 
 die on it, mark my words. She's in Paris this 
 minute, and if Laroche can't rope her in I must." 
 
 Laroche, a pale and slim young man with melan- 
 choly eyes and black hair en brosse, uttered a 
 groan. 
 
BLACK GOLD 35 
 
 *'You don't want me to travel with her, I 
 hopeT' said Francina frostily. He cast down his 
 eyes. ''Certainly not. Not the Atlantic trip, any- 
 way. Don't you worry. I wouldn't have her on 
 the same boat as any of the other principals for 
 sixteen days. I know very well there's no living 
 with that girl. No, I think we can decide now — 
 can't we? — that Laroche will bring all the conti- 
 nental party in the Italian boat sailing Boxing 
 Day." 
 
 Laroche nodded. ''The two violinists from 
 Eome — the first violin conducts, doesn't he? — and 
 the trombone and flute and two others . . . and a 
 cartload of costumes I got cheap in Madrid, and a 
 dozen pretty Italian girls. Yes. ' ' 
 
 Wasn't it rather taking a risk to divide the 
 party? Margarita wondered. 
 
 Francina shrugged her shoulders, and Salvatore 
 said grimly that he thought Laroche would be 
 equal to the job. "I'll answer for mi/ lot. We shall 
 have all the principals except the Sforzi and 
 Laroche if the baritone comes with me, and that 
 little Portuguese tenor boy who's taking on little 
 parts — like you, Margie." 
 
 "We shan't have to chase each other up and 
 down the Amazon?" Laroche hoped. 
 
 "Not quite. We shall get to Para first, probably 
 a day or two ahead, and we'll wait for you. Now, 
 let 's get back to our opera program, girls. ' ' 
 
 The door opened to admit a fat and prosperous- 
 looking young man with a cheerful grin, Mortimer 
 Bassett, a country neighbor of the Channings and 
 an adorer from childhood of Francina. Nobody 
 knew, perhaps not even Francina herself, why she 
 had suddenly married Salvatore instead, during 
 the year of her musical training in Italy. Pas- 
 sionately and openly lamenting her loss, Mortimer 
 
36 BLACK GOLD 
 
 nevertheless remained on good terms with her and 
 included Salvatore in his affection for all that was 
 Francina's. He went and sat beside her now, dis- 
 tressed at the prospect of the Brazilian adventure, 
 but making efforts to be cheerful about it. 
 
 Salvatore went on: *'Now look here! We have 
 only got three operas fixed on: * Carmen,' *Trova- 
 tore' and the * Cavalleria. ' Now what about 
 'Ai'daT' 
 
 '^Impossible!'* declared Laroche. *'The Nile 
 scene's all right, but what about the enormous 
 chorus, and the double scene at the end? No, im- 
 possible. ' ' 
 
 **It's popular in South America They do it in 
 B. A.," meditated Salvatore. **We could cut a lot 
 of the chorus out. And it 's one of the really singer- 
 proof ones. Couldn't we cut out that temple- 
 destruction scene?" 
 
 ''It might be as well to give the Brazilians a 
 chance to recognize our operas?" Francina 
 thought. 
 
 Eeceiving no encouragement, Salvatore went on 
 with the next item. " 'La Boheme,' of course. No 
 dressing or scenery to i^eak of, and everybody 
 likes it. Francie, don't forget to take your muff 
 with you." 
 
 "It isn't mine," murmured Francina. "And a 
 muff in Manaos, Salvie! How intolerable! Let's 
 change it to an electric fan." 
 
 "Very well, that's four. 'Faust.' We shall have 
 to give it." 
 
 "Too much chorus; think of it! — soldiers, the 
 kermesse angels " 
 
 "We can cut them out, lots of them." 
 
 "Couldn't manage the Brocken scene." 
 
BLACK GOLD 37 
 
 *'Cut it out.'' Salvatore was getting mechani- 
 cal. He wrote the name down. 
 
 **Next. 'Pagliacci,' of course. Any objections? 
 No? All right. Now'Tosca.' Nothing we can't do 
 in that. Charming music." He began to sing 
 ^' Mario, Mario, Mario! Per che chiusof" 
 
 ** There is quite much costuming in 'Tosca'/' 
 remarked Bianca, opening her eyes. 
 
 **Francina, can't you and Margarita fix up the 
 clothes?" 
 
 Margarita began to laugh. ''I tell you what I 
 will do! I'll make the clothes for the ^Pagliacci* 
 columbine, if you'll let me have her part," she 
 promised. 
 
 ''You'll do all the odd jobs, my child," he 
 agreed. ''You're a tower of strength to me. Now, 
 there's 'Rigoletto' . . . I am not very keen on it, 
 but I'm open to reason. And what about 'Butter- 
 fly'?" 
 
 "Not dramatic enough, not for South America," 
 Laroche was sure. "There's only one song in it." 
 
 "There's only one song in any opera," retorted 
 Salvatore. He took up one of the cable forms, 
 looked earnestly at what he had written, and 
 reflected. "While I am about it I might just as 
 well ask for another thousand." He put in a few 
 words. "When I think what I am paying out to 
 the steamship companies I can't sleep at night." 
 When John Ware came in a few minutes later he 
 was considering just what he could do "if any- 
 thing happens to the chorus, or the theatre burns 
 down or we lose the scenery or something. ' ' It was 
 just as well to be prepared for contingencies . . . 
 and you knew what had happened to the first com- 
 pany that went to the Amazon, when the 
 
38 BLACK GOLD 
 
 impresario couldn't find a single one of his chorus 
 girls after he'd given the first performance, and 
 had to go round the town and beg people just to 
 lend him Lucia and Marietta, just for an hour or 
 two, please, just so he could give the next perform- 
 ance; and you remembered that they never did 
 give more than the second — there wasn't a girl 
 to be found. . . . One shouldn 't forget that those 
 things did happen, although he personally in- 
 tended to keep the chorus under lock and key. 
 
 **"We can always fall back upon scenes like the 
 trio from *Aida' and the duet in the church from 
 'Tosca,' and the scene between Margherita and the 
 devil — No, ^ tu non dei pregar. And there 's the 
 ^Rigoletto' quartet ..." 
 
 **I am dying for tea," Francina said to Morti- 
 mer under her breath; she got up and began to 
 move to the door, as Salvatore added absent- 
 mindedly, **And there are quite a few nice deaths, 
 we could use some of them. ' ' 
 
 Somebody laughed and he protested: "Every- 
 body likes those deaths! They're not like * Butter- 
 fly,' downright miserable, but good, wholesome, 
 jolly deaths." 
 
 At this point Bianca raised her fine eyelashes 
 again. '*"Why do you take scenery? There is 
 everything you could want in Buenos Aires. I 
 know there is. My sister was there once with a 
 Spanish company. Ask them to lend it." Salva- 
 tore looked at her with grieved reproach. 
 
 ''From just around the corner? Yes, that's a 
 wonderful idea. Ever seen a map, Bianca dar- 
 ling?" He lit a cigarette and entreated: ''Won't 
 somebody take them all out to tea? Will you, 
 Mortimer, old chap? Ware? . . . No, I won't come. 
 I have to send this cable, and then I must think 
 out some scenery — something transformable. A 
 
BLACK GOLD 39 
 
 church interior that will reverse into the bed of 
 
 Francina, standing before the mirror arranging 
 her veil, began speaking to Mortimer in a far- 
 away, sentimental voice, her eyes turned on the 
 fond young man: ^^ Before I go to Brazil, I must 
 have a search made for the details of our noble 
 Portuguese ancestry. I know that our great- 
 grandfather was a great fidalgo of the court 
 of '' 
 
 Salvatore burst in upon her with a shriek of 
 laughter. He cried between spasms: '*0h, Fran- 
 cina, that's the first I ever heard of him! What an 
 awfully good idea! Do look him up. It'll cost you 
 ten pounds to have a tree made, and I'll put an- 
 other figure on to this cable on the strength of it. 
 But_say, you be careful, dear! You might find out 
 he was a toothpick maker in Lisbon. Most of 'em 
 
 were, you know. The fidalgo ancestor !" He 
 
 sobbed with joy. 
 
 His wife fastened her veil without diminution of 
 her equanimity, remarking with a lovely smile: 
 **If Salvatore only wouldn't speak I could be so 
 proud of him! He looks so nice, doesn't he? Like 
 a Rafael fallen angel or something. And then he 
 talks like a gamin." 
 
 Salvatore protested, still convulsed: **No, no, 
 dearest, you wrong me! East Side New York. I 
 got my wide knowledge of life on Third Avenue 
 and my nice manners on Division Street. . . . 
 It's true I learnt my repartee from the Five 
 Points, but I did acquire my musical technique in 
 Macdougal Alley. . . . gamin, indeed!" 
 
 Mortimer, opening the door for the girls, let 
 them and Ware pass through and shut it behind 
 him with the suspicion of a slam. 
 
IV 
 
 TELEPHONING next day to Margarita, Ware 
 used guile. ^*It's quite necessary for you to 
 make the acquaintance of our Amazon tropics be- 
 fore you sail. . . . Come and eat yellow rice with 
 chicken, and then let's go down to Kew." 
 
 They lunched gaily in a little Spanish restau- 
 rant and took an early afternoon train. The morn- 
 ing had been of the misty and rather raw variety, 
 but now gleams of sun appeared, piercing the haze 
 and creating opalescent tints. Over Kew the sky 
 was patched with blue and through the lacy gates 
 the green velvet turf lay flooded with golden 
 light. 
 
 They spent a few moments in the house at the 
 left of the entrance, full of chastened hardwoods: 
 huge trunks of tropic-grown trees, tamed, limbless, 
 their external beauty despoiled and their hearts 
 smoothed and polished to show the record of long 
 years. 
 
 Deciding that this was a mournful sight, they 
 abandoned it and walked the many gravelled 
 paths. Beside them, masses of ordered plants 
 grew in obedient precision, flourishing sedately 
 beneath the artful hand of the experimenter — the 
 experimenter who would bend and color their 
 children as he had bent their forefathers to his 
 decorative scheme. 
 
 Flowing slopes of emerald turf lay broken by 
 
 groups of great trees, some still clothed in russet 
 
 ^■^ and yellow, but many manifestly sleeping. The 
 
 40 
 
BLACK GOLD 41 
 
 flowers were nearly all gone, a belated rose empha- 
 sizing the lack of color, and for long stretches the 
 evergreens dominated, somber and a little forbid- 
 ding. Berberis glowed: the yews' fruit shone like 
 tiny oranges. A strange clump of cinnamon- 
 branched arbutus stood in full bloom. 
 
 The gardens were empty of people. London was 
 at work, and these two felt like runaways half for- 
 given by a busy world because they faced adven- 
 ture. Near the gates a wrinkled old gardener 
 swept the fallen leaves aside; a pale girl walked 
 with a young man, both talking earnestly and pay- 
 ing no heed to the gardens ; a couple of gardeners 
 sang and laughed as they worked on the roof of 
 one of the glass houses; a bearded person in 
 strange tweeds paced up and down, reading from 
 a tiny book. They saw no one else. 
 
 Seeking tropics, Ware took her first to the or- 
 chid houses. They were all riot and glow despite 
 the outer chill. The atmosphere was a warm 
 breath: the attitude and colors of the extraordi- 
 nary flowers, with their bold and cunning devices, 
 made them seem like living presences. Ware, an 
 orchid devotee, took her to some of his favorites. 
 . . . *'That thing with the crimson stars is an 
 Odontioda . . . and this is one of the Cymbid- 
 iums. ..." She laughed, declaring that looked 
 like a flock of frightened geese rising from a pond. 
 **You can almost hear them squawking." 
 
 '^Here are some you'll see if you come up the 
 
 Negro to the islands " white beauties with 
 
 gold-splashed lips. '* These are rather rare; but 
 you can get barrel loads of these other pink and 
 mauve Cattleyas if you like them." 
 
 She asked him idly if he went orchid hunting. 
 
 ** Sometimes. You know I have an interest in a 
 
42 BLACK GOLD 
 
 strip of rubber forest, a seringal, up the river, and 
 I often go up there for a few days to look after 
 things. I have a motor boat and a little house near 
 the river's edge. You wouldn't call it a house — 
 it's a palm-thatched hut with a hammock and an 
 oil stove for furniture. But if you ever come there 
 I can give you a cup of very good coffee," he 
 promised. 
 
 She smiled at him across a flower of hyacinth 
 blue. ''You might treat me as badly as you did 
 at Tregennen about the tea." 
 
 He came quickly to her side, taken with a sud- 
 den anxiety. ''Miss Channing, tell me, please I 
 Have you said anything — about that? About the 
 house of faery ? ' ' She put her hand into his like a 
 child. 
 
 "Oh, no! Of course not! No one could explain 
 it. Or understand, could they? That was ours, you 
 know." She spoke with an innocently candid air, 
 her eyes very blue in her smiling face, and Ware 
 murmured: "Heaven bless you!" into the heavy 
 leaves of a jutting orchid as she turned away. 
 
 The air outside had a bite in it, and they went 
 quickly to the big palm house, where great simple 
 giants flatten their fronds against the glass roof. 
 From one lofty heart an immense spathe of bloom 
 hung downwards, like the blonde tresses of an 
 Amazonian oread. 
 
 Leading the way to a tree that stood erect, 
 smooth-stemmed, with quantities of three-fingered 
 leaves. Ware waved an introduction." 
 
 "Your host, mademoiselle. Your wealthy and 
 most hospitable host." 
 
 "Ah, that's rubber?" 
 
 "No less." She regarded it thoughtfully. "How 
 did they ever bring it here ? " 
 
BLACK GOLD 43 
 
 ^ *'They didn't. Shall I tell youT' He was a 
 little diffident about giving instruction, but she 
 was inclined to listen, and said so. Ware spoke 
 briefly. ^*It is really an extraordinarily romantic 
 tale, but I'll cut it short. A man went up the 
 Amazon and fetched back a trunkful of rubber 
 seeds. He brought them here to Kew and they 
 tried to make them grow. ... It was in 1876. 
 They didn't know how, but they nursed them like 
 babies . . . and this is one of the infants. I think 
 about two thousand of them grew out of seventy 
 thousand seeds. 
 
 **When they had got the little seedlings, they 
 couldn't keep them here, of course; they had to 
 bring them up in some hot place like the Amazon. 
 So they were taken to Ceylon and Borneo and all 
 over Malaysia. Lots of them died. But a heap 
 lived. And in about five or six years some of them 
 began to flower, and when the seeds ripened the 
 planters set them out in new plantations. Then in 
 another year or two they tapped the oldest and 
 strongest of the trees to see if they would yield 
 the rubber milk. Until that moment they didn't 
 know whether their trees were any good or not — 
 whether they were able to produce rubber away 
 from their own home. ' ' 
 
 He stopped and the girl prompted him. **What 
 happened?" 
 
 '*It was all right, but they couldn't cure it as 
 the natives do on the Amazon. They hadn't got the 
 nuts to burn for the smoke, and they didn't get 
 them because the Amazon government passed a 
 law forbidding the export of those nuts or of any 
 more rubber seed. And then the Ceylon planters 
 began to get the idea that they had never really 
 had the best kind of seed — ^we are not sure even 
 
44 BLACK GOLD 
 
 now. The East is producing thousands of tons of 
 rubber now — but there seems to be a difference 
 . . . between black trees and white trees, from 
 the lower river or the upper. I am trying to find 
 out just what the difference is — whether it's only 
 the curing. . . . ' ' He spoke a little absently and 
 then suddenly started. 
 
 **I beg your pardon! I am boring you to death I 
 Forgive me! What need you care about the 
 troubles of a poor rubber planter?" 
 
 ** Indeed I care . . . since, as you say, rubber is 
 my kind host. . . . Eubber's the reason why Bra- 
 zil has so much money?" He answered her seri- 
 ously. 
 
 ** North Brazil, yes. To-day and perhaps to-mor- 
 row. But these rubber stepchildren have grown 
 so fast in the East since Kew nursed those seeds, 
 you see. . . . "When the Malaysia planters are 
 shipping out two hundred thousand tons of 
 rubber in a few years ' time, with all the industry 
 organized on a business plan, it may not be so easy 
 for the Amazon. I hope so — I love the country and 
 the people. There's plenty of room for all the rub- 
 ber in the world . . . but these booms ! Kather a 
 curse, I am afraid. Give people a wrong sense of 
 proportion. ' ' 
 
 He gave the tree a military salute, with a gay 
 gesture. **Come, I know this is frightfully dull 
 for you. Do you want to see anything else?" 
 
 She looked at him over her shoulder as she 
 walked out. *'Yes. In return for your rubber lec- 
 ture, I'll let you into the secret of another of my 
 hidden loves. The North Gallery, for a minute, 
 please." 
 
 Outside, the light was declining: a haze crept 
 among the trees. They walked quickly to the gal- 
 lery, and stood in a maze of sedulous pictures. 
 
BLACK GOLD 45 
 
 Margarita's eyes commanded sympathy. '^I 
 know all their faults," she declared. '*But do 
 please like them! Think of all the happy hours 
 and weeks and years she spent, sitting in swamps 
 and forests and deserts, to paint all her beloved 
 pictures of flowers. I have such a joy in her, be- 
 cause she did just what she wanted to do. And she 
 wasn't a bit afraid of her jungles. . . . Think of 
 that little gentle Victorian old maid " 
 
 He laughed. ^' Of course she wasn't afraid! She 
 wasn't stealing from them. It's we who try to 
 commercialize jungles who ought to be terrified 
 of them." 
 
 She considered this. *^Yes. But, somehow, you 
 don't look much like a thief, do you know*? Are 
 you? I tell you what you had better do. When 
 you have finished all your dark deeds, come 
 back and create a tropical garden like Marion 
 North's, and make your peace." 
 
 ** Let's make a bargain. You start the garden, 
 and I'll come and dig in it." 
 
 A thought struck her. * * The garden of the house 
 of faery?" 
 
 She said it smiling, but ceased to smile as he 
 turned a moved face with intense bright eyes upon 
 her. He opened his lips to speak, but shut them 
 again with a visible effort. They stood with deep 
 looks together for a long minute and then she 
 moved, going to the inside room and calling him 
 to help her to find Brazilian pictures. As they 
 came out again she asked him: *^Do tell me, who 
 can I take for my Third Favorite Woman? I've 
 got two. This Marion North first; and then 
 Lucrezia Borgia. But I never could decide on the 
 third." 
 
 He searched in space. ^' Helen?" 
 
 She was shocked. **No, indeed! Just a rather 
 
46 BLACK GOLD 
 
 stupid beauty. I have thought of Cleopatra, but 
 she wasn't much better. Queen Elizabeth? No, I 
 don't think so. I shall have to wait. Perhaps I 
 shall find my third candidate up the Amazon." 
 
 He persuaded her to walk through the avenue 
 of cedars before leaving the gardens. The dark 
 trees, immensely tall in the sunset, stood erect in 
 sombre pride, puritanical withstanders of the win- 
 ter. Their silhouettes were stark against the clear 
 gold of the sky. Margarita, turning to speak to 
 her companion here, encountered a look that en- 
 wrapped her with a kind of poignant tenderness. 
 She gave him a frank smile but said a little hur- 
 riedly, glancing at her watch: *'Do you know, we 
 are going to be horribly late? Let's go. Which is 
 the nearest " 
 
 **Late for what?" he demanded. 
 
 *' Mortimer's tea at the Criterion. Don't you re- 
 member? His disagreeable sister, too. He wants 
 to cry over us, and Mrs. Grenville is going to 
 think of spiteful things to say to Francina. But 
 Francina always beats her. She can be insulting 
 so sweetly and calmly, but Mrs. Grenville always 
 gets red in the face. I don't like her a bit." 
 
 **Well, I haven't met her yet, but I'm on your 
 side, so I don't like her either," he declared 
 gravely, his eyes on the bright tendrils of hair that 
 crisped on her neck. There never was anything 
 in the world so enchanting as the skin of her, 
 lightly shaded with gold, and flushed on her round 
 cheeks with such a soft flame-red. . . . He fol- 
 lowed her through the gates, seized with an insane 
 feeling that he couldn 't bear to let her return to all 
 that tribe of tiresome people, among whom she 
 walked as a little wood sprite escaped into a dan- 
 
BLACK GOLD 47 
 
 gerous world. He did not dare to suggest letting 
 the engagement slide, and meekly took her back 
 to town. 
 
 They scarcely exchanged a word on the way, she 
 sitting in a corner of the carriage and saying when 
 he spoke to her: ** Please, let me remember my or- 
 chids and palm trees. I like to go over them in my 
 mind. . . . You know, if we are to make all that 
 long voyage on the same ship, we must be really 
 good friends; good enough friends not to talk, 
 sometimes. It isn't always necessary to speak, 
 when people understand T' 
 
 Entering the Criterion they walked into another 
 world. The hot rooms, blazing with light, were 
 chiefly tenanted with couples — ^pairs of young 
 heads leaning together; the more sophisticated at 
 least affecting a negligent air with each other. The 
 soft murmur of English voices, pitched in such 
 tones that they only carried a yard, merged into a 
 lightly assaulting wave as the door opened; there 
 was an agreeable smell of tea and hot muffins. Dis- 
 creet waiters hovered about with little trays of 
 sandwiches and colored cakes. 
 
 In a corner half screened by a shrub sat Fran- 
 cina and Mortimer. The lady, wearing a white fur 
 cap, assumed with it a deceitful atmosphere of in- 
 nocence. He, fat and agitated, gulped boiling tea 
 and gazed upon her as she chattered. The new- 
 comers were greeted hospitably, but Francina 
 commented with protests upon Margarita's com- 
 plexion. ^*You will ruin your skin, darling, run- 
 ning about in the cold without a veil. You are 
 quite red.'' 
 
 Ware permitted himself a certain impertinence 
 in countering this attack. **She is most beauti- 
 
48 BLACK GOLD 
 
 fully rosy,'' lie assured Francina. **As you, dear 
 
 Mrs. Antonelli, are most beautifully pale *' 
 
 She interrupted him with an infinitesimal shriek. 
 ^TaleT' She snatched her handbag, seized a tiny 
 object, gazed into its surface with passionate at- 
 tention, and declared, **So I am. That new liquid 
 rouge is no good at all . . ." 
 
 Ware went on calmly: **But whatever the mer- 
 its of your complexions, mesdames, I beg to assurq 
 you that you will get no credit for them on the 
 Amazon. ' ' 
 
 Margarita wanted to know where Salvatore was. 
 
 **You know how he hates tea! But he'll come 
 in later with Laroche. They've gone to buy a 
 tame bull for * Carmen V' Francina thought, and, 
 looking across at the entrance, murmured with 
 great sweetness, ** Here's your dear sister, Morti- 
 mer, just coming in with Aunt Kitty.'* 
 
 The two elderly women came towards them, 
 smiling. Aunt Kitty had her usual air of pleasant 
 efficiency; Mrs. Grenville swept the room with a 
 slightly derogatory eye. She was so well uphol- 
 stered that her stoutness was under control, and 
 she subtly conveyed the impression that she had 
 been born middle-aged and handsomely dressed. 
 She did not like Francina, and seemed to swell a 
 little as she looked at her. An instinct of feminine 
 defence cried '* Danger!" and she was unmelted 
 by lovely smiles. 
 
 As they sank into the chairs adjusted by the 
 two men, exchanging greetings, Francina put up a 
 deprecating hand. ^* Dearest Mrs. Grenville, I 
 don't wonder that you gaze upon my clothes! Did 
 you know it was the last time they are to appear 
 upon me? These are the ultimate remnants of my 
 
BLACK GOLD '49 
 
 woolen garments, and to-morrow I am going to 
 pawn these, buy pink chiffon with my last penny, 
 and sail shivering." 
 
 Aunt Kitty interjected through laughter: **My 
 dear, be careful. You will catch your death of 
 cold. ... I'm not sure that she doesn't mean 
 it! I know her.'' 
 
 ^'Nobody knows me," Francina objected, smil- 
 ing gently. *'But I do mean it. And I shan't die of 
 cold, because I shall go to bed directly I get on 
 board ship and stay there until we attain warm 
 weather. I am nearly always seasick, and anyway 
 I shall enjoy being waited on." 
 
 ''I'm afraid you'll stay in bed until we are in 
 sight of land, in that case," Ware said. ''The 
 Atlantic is quite capable of being cold all the way 
 over." 
 
 "I don't care. I must have pink chiffon." She 
 went on talking quickly, countering Mrs. Gren- 
 ville's rather heavy condescensions towards the 
 two girls, and that lady was thrust back upon a 
 comparison of shopping notes with Aunt Kitty. 
 To her she always adopted an air of pity kept in 
 check by a good heart, a pity that had two bases: 
 first, Mrs. Channing's childlessness, and next, her 
 execrable and even lamentable taste in having 
 given up an entirely comfortable, satisfactory 
 widowhood in order to marry the casual Arthur 
 Channing with his assortment of children and pe- 
 culiar associates. Secretly, she considered Arthur 
 Channing as a trifle mentally unbalanced, re- 
 garded the entire menage with suspicion, and was 
 excellently confirmed in her judgment by the 
 present escapade. It had no other name. Salva- 
 tore, an impudent foreigner, was anathema to her, 
 
50 BLACK GOLD 
 
 and she really remained on speaking terms with 
 Aunt Kitty only in order to have the satisfaction 
 of conveying her opinions. 
 
 Mortimer, never able to realize his sister's atti- 
 tude, nor to save himself from the elementary mis- 
 take of exalting a young woman before the face of 
 an elderly one, turned to her under cover of other 
 talk and began to speak of Francina in a low 
 voice, *^ Isn't she wonderful! She is the most beau- 
 tiful woman in the world, and yet she is so unself- 
 ish, so modest. So few people understand her." 
 
 '*You do, of course," Mrs. Grenville interjected 
 with portly sarcasm entirely lost upon the young 
 man. 
 
 He went on, **Yes, yes, of course! Before all 
 you others came in she was explaining to me that 
 she hates to go away, leaving behind so much that 
 she — she — cares for, but she is really only think- 
 ing of Margarita. She believes that there will be 
 some great future for the child as a result. . . . 
 She confided all her dreams to me. She is sacrific- 
 ing herself. She seems so gay, but her heart is 
 wonderful. . . . She is a pure white flame." 
 
 Mrs. Grenville was quite excusably roused to 
 wrath. She made the mistake, however, of show- 
 ing temper. **A pure white fiddlestick!" she re- 
 torted, without dignity. ** Francina is perfectly 
 callous." 
 
 Mortimer flushed heavily. ^*You hurt me, 
 Agnes," he protested. **Not her. No one could. 
 She is above it. You don't mean that. You don't 
 understand her." 
 
 *'I understand her quite well." Her smile was 
 appalling. Mortimer did not hear. With eyes fixed 
 on Francina and a catch in his voice he murmured, 
 ''God bless her sweet face! Wherever she goes, 
 
BLACK GOLD 51 
 
 however long she stays away, she'll find me wait- 
 ing when she comes back.'' 
 
 ^^You seem to forget that she has a husband," 
 his sister said, but was startled by the sudden 
 anger of the amiable Mortimer. ^^ Forget! Good 
 heavens! What detestable ideas you have, Agnes! 
 Why, Salvatore is my dearest friend! Forget, in- 
 deed!" He breathed indignation. **If Francina 
 would let me serve her, clean her little shoes, do 
 any mortal thing, I should never want a sign from 
 her. I'd prefer she didn't even thank me." He 
 swallowed tea hastily, his face scarlet. 
 
 Francina, observing the hasty interchange from 
 the comers of her eyes, murmured to Margarita, 
 '* Agnes Grenville is saying cattish things about 
 me to Mortimer. I know she is. The poor dear is 
 quite upset. I do hope there's a special hell for 
 respectable married women like Agnes." 
 
 Aloud she cried, gaily impertinent, ** Mortimer, 
 dear, please don't go about telling people how 
 much you are going to miss me. You won't get a 
 bit of sympathy. Besides, sentimentality is a 
 dreadful crime." 
 
 Salvatore, approaching unseen, stood behind 
 her chair, a diamond ring flashing from the hand 
 with which he stroked back his blue-black hair. 
 He contributed at once, *'It's the salvation of the 
 world. What's even more to the point, it's the 
 salvation of me. For example, it is Amazonian 
 sentimentality that has just cabled me another 
 thousand pounds." 
 
 Everybody laughed, but Francina protested, 
 "No, that's sentiment, Salvie, quite a different 
 thing. Admirable sentiment. ... I should dis- 
 play more emotion if I had the least chance of see- 
 ing even the glimmer of that money. No, wiQ,t I 
 
52 BLACK GOLD 
 
 was warning Mortimer against was the sort of sen- 
 timentality that makes a man suddenly marry his 
 cook — like Squire Hunt, you know." 
 
 Mortimer had recovered his equanimity and re- 
 joined with smiles, *^That wasn^t sentimentality. 
 That was the wonderful Welsh rabbits she used to 
 make. And if he'd stopped to think for a moment 
 he'd have married the Welsh rabbit instead. That 
 was his real love." 
 
 **The cook or the Welsh rabbit, whichever you 
 like. So long as a man marries I approve both his 
 choice and his reasons," declared Salvatore, sit- 
 ting down beside Aunt Kitty. *'I am a great be- 
 liever in the marriage of men. Women, of course, 
 should always remain virgins. ..." 
 
 Mrs. Channing hastily interposed a shower of 
 words between the rash man and the eye of Agnes 
 Grenville. ** Quite right, my dear boy I There's no 
 object on earth so wretched as an old bachelor, 
 especially the calculating ones who always mean 
 to get married and keep putting it off for some 
 motive or other, and spend a hateful old age at last 
 with not a soul to speak to. Old women at any 
 rate can always nurse somebody else's babies." 
 
 **Well, if you are all talking about me, I am im- 
 mensely obliged to you for outlining my future so 
 neatly," said Mortimer, his fat face wreathed in 
 smiles, and devouring petits fours. ''Aren't these 
 things frightfully good with the pink stuff on the 
 top? Antonelli, do have some tea and eat some 
 of these." 
 
 ''No, no. I am breaking myself in for the Ama- 
 zon. Is the food going to be very bad. Ware?" 
 
 Ware considered. "Depends how you take it. 
 If you're thinking all the time of juicy mutton 
 chops and strawberries, then you'll grumble. But 
 
BLACK GOLD 53 
 
 if you can get along with Frenchy kind of stews 
 and soups, and lots of sweets and black coffee and 
 eggs, you'll cotton to it all right." 
 
 ** Think of all the delicious tropical fruit," 
 somebody suggested. 
 
 Ware thought that that was rather a fraud. 
 '*A11 the best tropic fruit already comes here — 
 mangoes and pineapples and bananas — if you call 
 bananas fruit. I think they're like eating a well- 
 soaped flannel bandage. As a matter of fact I 
 would give all the tropical fruits in the world ex- 
 cept the mangoes and pineapples for a plate of 
 ripe cherries, any day." 
 
 '* Don't chill our ardor, Mr. Ware," Francina 
 begged him. 
 
 **Not for the world. Personally, I am very fond 
 of South American food, but I don't want you to 
 be disappointed. Of course, the best cooking in all 
 the Americas is really Negro cooking — ^African 
 ideas. All the best places to eat are those where 
 there is a big remnant of slave population. North 
 or South. The famous cooking of the south of the 
 United States is first cousin to the Bahia cooking 
 of Brazil. They like to call it French, but it isn't, 
 it's African, and half the stuff they use in it was 
 brought from the West Coast." 
 
 **Ah, Jamaican pepper pot!" cried Salvatore, 
 shutting his eyes. **I dream of it to this day." 
 
 * * You know Jamaica ? ' ' 
 
 **I was born in the West Indies " began Sal- 
 vatore, but was interrupted by Mrs. Grenville, who 
 stared at him through a lorgnette. 
 
 **Mr. Antonelli's memory deserts him. The last 
 time I had the pleasure of meeting him I remem- 
 ber his saying that he was born in Corsica." 
 
 **Well, being born in a lot of places is better 
 
54 BLACK GOLD 
 
 than being dead in a lot," said the gentleman 
 cheerfully. '^Anyway, the food's good in Jama- 
 ica. Girls, let's start a South American restau- 
 rant in Piccadilly when we get back from the 
 Amazon with all our loot.'' 
 
 **A11 right. With special alcoves for ex-presi- 
 dents and revolutionaries. Ware, you could gather 
 in all the Brazilian exiles." 
 
 **They don't exile people from Brazil," pro- 
 tested Ware, but was chidden. 
 
 * 'Don't undermine the faith of our childhood! 
 You know they do! Any newspaper says so. All 
 South American countries are always having rev- 
 olutions, and every man big enough to carry a gun 
 goes about shooting presidents. We know it. Any 
 shilling novel with the word South Aiherica in it 
 says so." He looked at his wife. '^Francina, you 
 look ill. Are you tired, honey?" 
 
 **No. It's that horrid new rouge betrayed me. I 
 wish you wouldn't look at me. How I do envy 
 women who are downright plain! Nobody minds 
 if they go about looking like scarecrows. Their 
 husbands like them just as well if their hair is a 
 sight and their noses shiny. But if I don't look 
 like a new doll Salvatore is furious." 
 
 ''That's the worst of being a reputed beauty, 
 my dear," Mrs. Grenville smiled with tight lips, 
 but Francina was unruffled. 
 
 **Yes, that's just it. Let me go while I have a 
 shred of that reputation left. ..." 
 
THEY sailed on a raw morning a few days 
 before Christmas. For nearly a week bad 
 weather and choppy seas prevailed, and, with the 
 steamer rolling and pitching in the sea troughs, 
 Francina kept her word and stayed in bed. But 
 Margarita, with amateur's luck, found herself 
 with sea legs after the second day. The decks were 
 impossible, swept by gusts and slippery with ice; 
 she spent most of each day in a corner in company 
 with a Portuguese dictionary and a copy of Inno- 
 cencia. 
 
 When the weather cleared and the decks dried 
 under the ministrations of a searching sun, the 
 tables began to be filled at meal times with people 
 who glanced at each other with the pessimism of 
 the experienced traveler. The boat, of a line that 
 cared more for cargo than passengers, was limited 
 in saloon capacity and the crowd was small al- 
 though varied. It included a group of Portuguese, 
 pale, stout men with oval faces; a couple of exqui- 
 sitely dressed young Austrian women who scarcely 
 appeared except at meals, bore themselves 
 with an impossible air of inimical reserve, and 
 only spoke to exchange a few sentences in French 
 with each other; a few Brazilians of the North, in 
 Paris-made clothes, wearing the tiniest polished 
 buttoned boots; an American drummer, taking 
 jewelry to the Amazon, owner of an immense dia- 
 mond scarf pin and a gray leather face; a Swiss, 
 very lively and talljative, partner in a rubber 
 
 55 
 
56 BLACK GOLD 
 
 house at Manaos, with a bleached appearance as 
 if he had been grown in the dark. 
 
 Two of the Brazilians and the Swiss commer- 
 ciante were known to "Ware, and it was not long 
 before the sociable Salvatore had taken them to 
 his bosom. A relative of the younger Brazilian, 
 Affonso Guimaraes de Freitas, was in fact one of 
 the opera company's sponsors; the young man, 
 very good looking, slim and dark, appeared to be 
 unable to take his eyes from the back of Marga- 
 rita's neck: he was much too polite to stare at her 
 pretty face. With him was an elderly uncle, Cus- 
 todio de Freitas, a yellow, wizened, and rather 
 small man with brilliant eyes and a manner of 
 such kindness that women instinctively loved and 
 trusted him. Like all Brazilians of the intelligent- 
 sia, these two spoke French beautifully, and un- 
 derstood English and German; the usual working 
 knowledge of English had in their cases been sup- 
 plemented through old-established personal rela- 
 tions with British and American business houses, 
 and Custodio still spoke with feeling and chas- 
 tened respect of the English governess of his youth 
 who had taught him his beautiful flowing pen- 
 manship. It was he who had made his nephew 
 spend a couple of years at an English school to 
 learn games, before going to Paris to complete his 
 education. 
 
 For Ware, Margarita came into perspective 
 again only after an interval. During the last days 
 of preparation as in the first adjustments of ship- 
 board life she had seemed to recede; he lost the 
 moorland girl in a maze of unfamiliar gabbling 
 people, behind piles of trunks, in a whirl of small 
 excitements. 
 
 He was suddenly conscious of recovering her on 
 
BLACK GOLD 57 
 
 an evening when, looking in at a lighted window 
 from the darker and cooler deck, he saw her 
 bright head and curve of cheek close to the open- 
 ing. She stood watching a rather fierce bridge 
 game from which Salvatore's face rose trium- 
 phant, beaming, his plumed forehead shining. 
 Natural-born citizen of the world, Salvatore ab- 
 sorbed his social medium like a sponge. 
 
 Ware went in and stood beside Margarita. She 
 wore a little white lace dress, her arms and neck 
 uncovered. He was suddenly pricked to conscious- 
 ness of her physical perfection, but this renewed 
 perception was almost at once overlaid by a more 
 subtle quality of magnetism, a quality of which 
 her nymphlike air of withdrawal was a constant 
 denial. He saw her as if always across the stream 
 in the magic garden, half seen through tall 
 bushes. 
 
 **You don't play bridge T' he heard himself ask 
 her stupidly. He must make her speak, bring her 
 out of her fastness. 
 
 **I am afraid to play cards. I have too much 
 luck. All the aces come to me,'' she answered 
 under her breath, giving him her candid eyes. 
 Bravo! She had run across the stepping-stones, 
 over the stream, slipped her hand into his, and 
 was again walking beside him on secure ground. 
 
 *'0f course!" he murmured, and then spoke the 
 rest of his thought with daring. '*0f course you 
 would have luck ! You, a moor maiden, in league 
 with Pan and the pixies. Naturally, they slip in 
 and give you everything you look for. ... If ever 
 you try washing for gold in the rivers when you 
 get to Brazil, you'll find your pan full of nuggets 
 every time." 
 
 She laughed out at this and Salvatore, sitting 
 
58 BLACK GOLD 
 
 back watching the dealing, turned at the delicious 
 sound, took Margarita's hand and patted it. 
 
 ** Blessed little mascot! Stay right there, Mar- 
 gie darling, ' ' he enjoined her. Ware was instantly 
 conscious of an impulse to beat the good Salva- 
 tore. How dared he, how dared any man, touch 
 that wonderful girl! Astonished at the acuteness 
 of his own feeling, he stood back a little farther 
 behind Margarita, regarding her as she bent smil- 
 ing over Salvatore 's shoulder. He tried to look at 
 her with the eyes of other people. "What did thei/ 
 see in herf — this beautiful piece of youth, a crea- 
 ture who was apparently very simple when she 
 presented herself to you, but who was so often in 
 the act of retreat. Was it only he who could realize 
 her possession of precious qualities that melted 
 the heart and drew the soul? . . . her extraordi- 
 nary sense of values, her capacity for prizing 
 things hidden from or neglected by most people. 
 
 He repeated to himself, doggedly, that she was 
 elementally simple when he could definitely bring 
 her to his side; but there clung about her some in- 
 tangible thing, a hint of mystery, of something 
 perilous and entrancingly promising, that made 
 her stand apart, inevitably, among a crowd of 
 women. Watching the gesture of her lightly 
 clasped hands as she answered some trivial thing, 
 he said to himself that she was rather a still, vir- 
 ginal creature, making no effort at all to use her 
 lovely looks as many much younger women used 
 theirs, that she had, really, nothing extraordinary 
 to say in that tender voice, all tones of rainbow 
 and pearl. . . . There was almost a veil about 
 her — no, no, he had been right before! Not a veil, 
 but a screen of golden-green fluttering leaves. Be- 
 yond them, you could imagine those young hands 
 
BLACK GOLD 59 
 
 raised to push away much more easily than you 
 could conceive them outstretched to embrace. De- 
 nial was written upon that leafy screen — ^but when 
 she gavel He was convinced that when she did 
 give it would be a complete giving. Her strange 
 appeal seemed to be some inner sense of adven- 
 ture, the love of the unknown, of the withdrawn. 
 To get into real communion with her, if you were 
 to follow her instead of bringing her to you, what 
 you would need of searching, of pursuit in im- 
 mense distances! She called to all desire of the 
 unspeakable joys and dangers of far journeying. 
 
 Margarita turned and asked him some small 
 question. He, at the same time that he answered 
 coherently, became vividly ^ware of the exquisite 
 lines of her eyes and brows, seemed to plunge deep 
 into that clear blue, into the tremendous depths 
 of enchanted seas. Seeking, seeking, with a 
 breathless, suspended hope of finding, at last, 
 something splendid and dazzling ... he came up 
 like a half-drowned man, his heart struggling, 
 when she had finished speaking. 
 
 She had said: ''It's so hot in here. Will you 
 come and walk outsider' and he had agreed and 
 asked if she had a wrap, it appeared, for he found 
 himself blindly picking up a furry garment frcm 
 a settee, holding it in trembling hands as she kid 
 her throat in it, swinging back a door for her and 
 following her into the still dark night, with the 
 sea racing past in long flares of phosphorescence. 
 
 Here, as they began to pace the deck, an idea 
 came to him with extreme vividness. ''I am in 
 love with this girl. I have loved her, of course, 
 from the beginning. But now I am in love." 
 
 He felt a little annoyed. This was a queer, an 
 unforeseen accident. Love of this sort was danger- 
 
60 BLACK GOLD 
 
 ous, a source of weakness, almost an abasement 
 of the spirit ... it wasn't as if he was a schoolboy, 
 without any experience. And now he had other 
 things to do, preoccupations, a path marked out 
 with no time for strayings in witched lands. And 
 Margarita herself! He wouldn't dream of disturb- 
 ing her, even if he could. He felt as if he were 
 arguing with fate, as he made a kind of mental 
 bargain — a little of her company, the sound of her 
 voice for a few times — that surely could not be 
 grudged to him. 
 
 **Did she like the steamer?" Idiotic question! 
 But one must speak. It appeared that she didn't 
 very much. **Such a stuffy place to sleep in. And 
 planks to walk upon. And being so close to so 
 many people. I think I am not quite happy when 
 my feet are not on the earth. Or when I am out of 
 the sight and smell of trees. Perhaps shut-in places 
 are always rather terrible ..." 
 
 He sympathized hastily, seeking bases for 
 agreement. ** Yes, and the food too, partly, I dare- 
 say. I'm afraid that if you find yourself turning 
 out to be unconquerably British, you'll find you 
 miss food, certain things at least, and fires. When 
 I've been a long time in the tropics I always begin 
 to pine for smoked haddock and kippered herrings 
 — and a well-hung saddle of mutton. And cold 
 grouse for breakfast. . . . There really is no com- 
 pensation. But especially fires. When you see the 
 sun, day after day, blazing away implacably in a 
 steel sky, you long for clouds and the endless mir- 
 acle of flame and smoke at your own hearth, 
 stirred up by a poker." 
 
 She smiled at him. ''I don't mind that — ^yet. 
 But I have rather a bad conscience because I don't 
 appreciate engine rooms. I ought to be ashamed, 
 
BLACK GOLD 61 
 
 but the truth is that I am so much of a savage 
 that I can't even be astonished at big mechanisms. 
 They seem to me like tides or a volcano; I can't 
 begin to understand the origin and accomplish- 
 ment of them, and just accept it. Canoes, now . . .! 
 It's wonderful to drive a boat forward with a pad- 
 dle. And beautiful, because the water is so near 
 and friendly. . . . Here the sea might just as well 
 be painted. One rushes along in a stuffy series of 
 too-much-lighted rooms." 
 
 Salvatore, unable to bear the agony of the 
 dummy, stood upon the threshold of the smoking 
 room and beamed upon them as they approached 
 and Ware rejoined: *'Yes, one is frightfully sur- 
 rounded on board ship." 
 
 Salvatore laughed aloud. ** That's the word! 
 Surrounded ! Worst place on the world for a flirta- 
 tion. I've tried it. Not a square inch anywhere 
 that isn't under observation from somewhere. You 
 take my advice." 
 
 As they walked silently, Francina appeared at 
 the stateroom entrance, her arm about the waist 
 of Beatriz, pale and languid, announcing herself 
 as merely emerged for a minute to take the air 
 before she went back to bed. She permitted Ware 
 to pull out a chair, hunt for and arrange rugs and 
 cushions, and rewarded him with a magnificently 
 gracious smile, a trifle wasted upon his detached 
 courtesy. When he went on again, leaving Mar- 
 garita at her side, Beatriz turned her eyes from 
 his retreating back and said in her sleepy voice: 
 **Mr. Ware does not please you?" 
 
 Francina considered. She was usually frank, 
 partly as the result of early training in an open- 
 hearted household, and partly because she was in- 
 clined to ruthlessness. But now she fenced for a 
 
62 BLACK GOLD 
 
 moment. *'But he does please pou, Beatriz?" 
 Beatriz glanced at the face of Margarita as she 
 replied slowly: 
 
 **Yes. Because he is the sort of man who always 
 knows when trains start and is quietly at hand 
 with tickets and a seat on the right side, and then 
 goes away without fussing. I hate effusive men. 
 I am sure he would appear with sandwiches and 
 a motor car in the middle of Africa if one hap- 
 pened to be lost, and would never mention it after- 
 wards. ' ' 
 
 ** You are a man hater, Beatriz," declared Fran- 
 cina. 
 
 *^No. I am not interested in them. I only want 
 men to be useful. To do the odd jobs that it's so 
 tiresome to do for one 's self. ' ' 
 
 '*If that were my chief requirement, I shouldn't 
 get it from my Salvatore, should I!'' said Fran- 
 cina. '^He's always asleep or has his head in the 
 piano just when I am expiring from struggles 
 with the luggage. It's true that Mr. Ware's fright- 
 fully useful . . . but it always seems to me that 
 he has his eyebrows lifted. He does not really bow 
 down. And what I consider the prime duty of 
 man" — she laughed but was emphatic about it — 
 **is blind adoration. He has no idea of it." 
 
 '*Ah, no," agreed Beatriz comfortably, closing 
 her eyes and not following Francina's drift. That 
 lady, however, continued to track it, her fair head 
 against Margarita's shoulder. She did not care 
 greatly for the friendship between the girl and 
 Ware, regarding him always with a hint of sus- 
 picion, as a man who demanded sportsmanship of 
 women when he asked anything at all, and gave 
 comradeship rather than homage. She suspected 
 him of being the kind who judged women by men's 
 
BLACK GOLD 63 
 
 standards, who wanted them to be truthful, fair- 
 dealing, to play the game. She said aloud after a 
 moment: *'I think John Ware really wants women 
 to be gentlemen." 
 
 Margarita suddenly laughed. *'0h, no, Francie! 
 Indeed, he hasn't any such idea. I know what he 
 
 thinks. He thinks " She stopped, suddenly 
 
 struck with the consciousness that she could not 
 say what she had begun to say, could not tell Fran- 
 cina this, could not explain a thing that was still 
 strange to herself. ^'It's too long, and I am sleepy. 
 I am going to bed. Good night!'' She ran from 
 their protests, but stood a long minute on the 
 threshold, looking at a newly risen bent moon and 
 completing, to herself, the rest of her sentence, 
 smiling. 
 
 **He thinks we are the earth. To which he must 
 return.'* 
 
 A week out from British shores, the ship 's food 
 underwent that strange chemical change peculiar 
 to the sea, when everything tastes just alike and 
 it is only possible to distinguish a jam omelette 
 from a kippered herring by the eye. After that 
 period the smoking room talks, although periodic- 
 ally ameliorated by the attentions of the bar, took 
 on more pungency. 
 
 The eternal question of every new country, that 
 of the desirable settler, cropped up more than 
 once. Custodio de Freitas, gentle-mannered but 
 acutely logical, defended the experiments of South 
 Brazil. **We had to find out who suited the soil 
 best, and would live there and multiply. . . . 
 Naturally we brought in Germans, and they are 
 excellent colonists because they remain and fill 
 the country. Of course we admire the English, and 
 
64 BLACK GOLD 
 
 we appreciate all their tremendous work for us, 
 but you know very well that the English always 
 will go home.*' 
 
 Ware backed him up. ^ * Of course, you are right. 
 But remember that most of us don't come here as 
 agricultural settlers, like your colonies of Ger- 
 mans and Scandinavians and Slavs in South Bra- 
 zil and Argentina. We are mostly merchants, or 
 engineers building railroads, or agents of some big 
 company. . . .'* 
 
 *'Ah, yes! The French and half of the Italians 
 are the same. Always with one foot in the sea, try- 
 ing to make money to take home." 
 
 ** Isn't that on account of a feeling that you Bra- 
 zilians appreciate tremendously — ^love of one's 
 own country?" 
 
 The little parchment face of Custodio softened. 
 **Yes, there is something in what you say. I sym- 
 pathize with patriotic feeling, naturally. But let 
 me simply consider the question as one concern- 
 ing only the good of Brazil. We who have land 
 and few people, able and willing to absorb the 
 overflow of half Europe, are inclined to prefer the 
 people who stay with us rather than those who get 
 rich and go. . . . I know very well what you might 
 say: that they have created much more wealth 
 than they take away. There is a great deal in that, 
 too. But the fact remains that we need blood, we 
 must have more people. It's the lack of all the 
 Americas; we have all offered to Europe good land 
 in exchange for strong arms. I don't say that there 
 is any obligation on either side, necessarily, if af- 
 fection does not exist, but I do know what Brazil 
 wants." 
 
 **We don't want mere traders, that's one cer- 
 tain thing," interjected Alfonso. **The Portu- 
 
BLACK GOLD 65 
 
 guese petty trader used to be something of a curse, 
 but nowadays he has melted like snow before the 
 Armenian and Syrian. They can bargain anybody 
 out of existence. There is not another trader who 
 can endure where they come. Jews? Dios, no! 
 You don't find Jews traversing the interior water- 
 ways: far too fond of their comfort. They are no 
 pioneers. They are city dwellers, and a country 
 like Brazil does not attract them very much until 
 it has been warmed up by a few centuries of other 
 people 's lives. ' ' 
 
 **In New York one man in every three is a 
 Jew," stated the American drummer with solem- 
 nity. ^'JSTow in Chicago. ..." He paused to 
 adjust his cigar and John "Ware spoke quickly, 
 conciliatory eyes on the Brazilians. 
 
 **Your settlers will all be absorbed in a genera- 
 tion, your southerly settlers. But in the hot 
 regions, you don't really expect people to stay. 
 The best any stranger can do for you there is to 
 help to construct. ..." 
 
 '*I know! You are right. We don't forget that 
 your countrymen have built, Senhor Ware. We 
 always say that if a cataclysm of heaven were to 
 suddenly remove all the other foreigners, there 
 would be nothing left as a memorial of them but 
 a row of empty shelves in a store ; but the English 
 would leave behind them docks and railways." 
 
 Max Denis barked with sudden laughter. 
 ** Memorials to dead men don't do them much! 
 good!" 
 
 '*Who is dead if his memorial survives?" Cus- 
 todio was emphatic. ''If what the new Soilth. 
 American countries really want is population — ^ 
 and I wonder how soon you'll all be regretting 
 your nice clean wide spaces and forests — you have 
 
Be BLACK GOLD 
 
 still got a case for defending your Teutons, even 
 in the hot regions where they make money and go 
 home like everybody else/' suggested Denis, acid 
 under his tongue. 'VThey always leave something 
 behind." 
 
 *'0h, well '\ ^ 
 
 He went on, reminiscent: **IVe seen them all 
 over the world. Get a girl for a haus-f rau, and at 
 the end of six or seven years home they go, taking 
 the boy that looks most like papa for a souvenir. 
 There must be a lot of them in Hamburg. Rough 
 on the women? Lord, no; why? They're not 
 chosen from a stratum where they would lose 
 caste. Isn't that true in Brazil, Senhor Freitas?" 
 
 The elder Brazilian acquiesced, his smile a little 
 wry. 
 
 **Yes, yes, no doubt." 
 
 Denis took a long drink of whisky and soda 
 and was moved to delivery of opinion, nobody else 
 having anything to say. The rain beat on the win- 
 dows, the steamer churned steadily through heavy 
 seas, and the room was heavy with smoke. 
 
 ** There's a lot of misery in the world resulting 
 from confused ideas of morality. Women have two 
 chief roles: that of permanent mistress of a home 
 and that of an agreeable companion, temporary 
 soother. ..." 
 
 *'A few million women earn their own living?" 
 suggested Ware. Denis waved away the thought. 
 ** Ridiculous! Destruction of society ..." taking 
 only a trifle more kindly Affonso's, ** Wives 
 can't be agreeable?" 
 
 *'It's at least not necessary that they should be. 
 They have a quite different function. Lots of men, 
 especially mal-educated Englishmen, don't under- 
 stand that. Lonely in some foreign land, they get 
 
BLACK GOLD 67 
 
 consoled "by some girl and think they must marry 
 her — and live miserably in the middle of a family 
 they can't take home, and die of bad rum and re- 
 grets. I'm thinking of a case I knew in Java. . . . 
 Or else they live lonely and become cantankerous." 
 
 Somebody laughed, but Denis insisted. ** Some- 
 thing of that sort is the nightmare of every man 
 who lives in some foreign tropical land where he 
 can't take out a white wife. It's mine too. I am 
 frightened to death that I shall have to work for a 
 fortune until I am fifty and bald, and then I shall 
 fall in love with some minx who will make a fool 
 of me." 
 
 *^That is interesting as the foreigner's point of 
 view," smiled Custodio de Freitas, and Denis 
 went on quickly: 
 
 **When I go back to Geneva next year I shall 
 choose a girl and start the nucleus of a family. I 
 wish I had thought of it ten years ago. She will 
 stay at home and mind the children, and I shall 
 run over every twelve months. Then when I have 
 at last lost all the money I've made in rubber 
 booms on some railway scheme, there'll be a 
 grown-up family to work for me." 
 
 *'You will have to choose the lady carefully," 
 Salvatore thought. ^^In case she might not see eye 
 to eye with you while you were being true to her 
 from a distance." 
 
 Denis flushed a trifle but stuck to his guns. 
 *' Naturally I shall pick out a very well brought- 
 up girl. As to me, I tell you it does not matter. 
 It's of no consequence. Endless misery, endless 
 through all the ages, has come from people being 
 true to each other. It's a mental obstinacy, not a 
 thing of the heart or the body. It's a crime for a 
 man to be true to a woman he is parted from 
 
B8 BLACK GOLD 
 
 "unless he loves her so much that all other womeii 
 are colorless shadows. Terrific love is the only 
 excuse for fidelity, bodily fidelity. "Without that, 
 faithfulness is very material, a forced faithfulness 
 to a mere pair of arms, when the only thing worth 
 while being true to is an idea, a dream. Be true to 
 a woman you have never kissed, if you like. Glo- 
 rious ! But physical fidelity on account of a tie— » 
 very coarse and debasing.'' 
 
 He rose and went out of the door, followed by 
 laughter. 
 
VI 
 
 A FEW days later Margarita, curled in her cor- 
 ner of the library with the dictionary, listened 
 to another heated conversation. 
 
 '* England," declared Custodio de Freitas, with 
 a sly glance at her, *^owes her colonial empire to 
 the habit of drinking tea." He was assailed by 
 Denis: '^No, to her abominable climate." 
 
 Ware interjected: ^'I think it's the public 
 schools. The life there is absolutely primitive — 
 an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth: and then 
 every boy has it ground into him that he must 
 never put up a bluff that he can't carry through. 
 Never put up a bluff at all, in fact. Priceless les- 
 sons in dealing with native races." 
 
 Custodio half accepted this. ''There is some- 
 thing in what you say, but all the same the tea 
 basis is there too. England has developed those 
 unique schools because she is both sporting and 
 scholarly, and no nation can possess both those 
 qualities without long evenings, and you cannot 
 have long evenings without tea." There was a 
 general laugh at this, but he was serious. 
 
 ''England claims two-thirds of the great poets 
 of the whole world. Half the philosophers, most 
 of the inventors, and at the same time everybody 
 plays games. Why? Because of the long light 
 evenings in summer, and evenings just as long by 
 the fire in winter, when people really study oV 
 talk. That can never occur in hot climates or 
 
 6d 
 
70 BLACK GOLD 
 
 steam-heated countries; they have nothing to cen- 
 ter about, and no time. ' ' 
 
 ^*The day's twenty-four hours long all over the 
 world," said Max Denis. 
 
 *^Ah, but long evenings don't exist without tea. 
 In lands where nobody drinks tea, we have dinner 
 early at six-thirty or seven, eat such a lot that we 
 are torpid afterwards and fit for nothing but 
 sleep or vaudeville. But the Englishman comes 
 home from his daily work, forgets it, drinks tea, 
 and is ready for three or four hours of some other 
 ^occupation before he has a big meal. He walks or 
 Tides in the country, learns it by heart, loves it. It 
 is the absorbing passion of the Englishman, that 
 love of the very soil learned during those evening 
 walks. I am sure it is for the memory of wild 
 roses or the call of a thrush that the Englishman 
 sacrifices his blood without hesitation, and not 
 for Britain the political entity. ..." 
 
 ''Nobody thinks of his country as a political 
 entity, ' ' protested Max. 
 
 ''At least the newspapers talk as if people did. 
 Of course, a great deal of so-called patriotism is 
 either cantankerousness or vanity — nevertheless I 
 am sure that the English love England because 
 of those summer evenings after tea, and that they 
 are scholars because of the fireside. They form 
 ideas and habits that are lifelong." 
 
 "I knew a man once in Pernambuco," Denis 
 said, "who managed a sugar plantation. He lived 
 alone for nine years. He dressed every day as if 
 he was a country squire in England, always drank 
 tea at half -past four, kept a diary, had the Times 
 sent out to him in weekly batches, and read noth- 
 ing else. He used to put on evening clothes every 
 night — all by himself, mind." 
 
BLACK GOLD 71 
 
 '* Exactly. A man of character formed by tea, 
 Just what I was telling you/' Custodio smiled. 
 
 '^But I think he was an idiot.'' 
 
 *'I don't care Avhether it was sensible or not, but 
 it did show character, and that is the point. Char- 
 acter is, after all, the one rock upon which all 
 nations must build if they are going to last." 
 
 Alfonso had something to say. **My dear uncle 
 is always worrying himself about the future of the 
 world. But it isn't going to be worth living in if 
 we are going to spend our time taking thought for 
 the morrow. When that morrow comes we shall be 
 dead of some nervous disease or too exhausted to 
 take any pleasure in success. Really, one would 
 make life into a nightmare." 
 
 *^ It is a nightmare, with every nation trying to 
 cut the other's throat for commercial reasons, and 
 being compelled to do it, too. Even they who love 
 peace and beauty and want to live agreeably in 
 the world as it exists." 
 
 *^I shall choose a desert island," declared 
 Aff onso, ' ' when things come to that pitch. We can 
 still keep out of your nightmare of cutthroats on 
 the Amazon." 
 
 **No, no, that we can't do!" Max Denis objected. 
 *^We live by the outside world now, and if we are 
 having luxurious times it is for some obscure rea- 
 son of the financial manipulators far away. . . . 
 They could ruin us all, and they may. The Ama- 
 zon is nothing but a pawn in the hands of a group 
 of determined men thousands of miles distant." 
 
 '*I don't quite agree with you there," Custodio 
 demurred. *^ * Something always happens to help 
 the Amazon,' you know. But it is true that every- 
 one must learn to fight, or go down. There's 
 China, for instance. ' ' 
 
72 BLACK GOLD 
 
 "Still carving ivory. '^ 
 
 "Yes, and wishing to remain a nation of phil- 
 osophers and embroiderers of exquisite silks. Now 
 what is happening? The whole outside world is 
 working itself up to a state of being terribly 
 shocked and disgusted with China, because she 
 wishes not to be made modern. All the industrial 
 nations are holding up their hands and saying how 
 reprehensible it is that China should have no steel 
 factories. A frightful crime ! It is their Christian 
 duty to bring such a scandal to an end.'* 
 
 "They will do it, men caro. She will be carved 
 up." 
 
 "Except perhaps for one thing," Ware sug- 
 gested. "There are four hundred million Chi- 
 nese, and they may swallow up everybody who 
 comes along." 
 
 "Look at the Japanese, what a difference! They 
 didn't refuse mechanisms; took them to their 
 hearts and copied them. Now everyone's begin- 
 ning to be afraid, or to say they are, because the 
 Japanese have done just what everybody insisted 
 on their doing. They fear them for the devices 
 they have taught them, hate them for their thrift 
 and industry." 
 
 "Are you sure it's that? Not the color line?" 
 
 "We Brazilians do not see a color line," said 
 iCustodio. "No, I am sure it is not that. It is their 
 offensive virtues. Not their vices. All the objec- 
 tion to them is that they are hard-working, thrifty, 
 don't spend money on drink, and love their own 
 country. . . . All the same, hated or not, you will 
 isee that they will be great because they mean to 
 be. As to the nice, agreeable people — lambs for 
 the slaughter!" 
 
 "I am a merchant, but I often think that com- 
 
BLACK GOLD 73 
 
 mercialism is a most hateful thing,*' said Max 
 Denis. *'I agree with you in that it is a remorse- 
 less fight, much more remorseless than a real field 
 of battle. But it's amusing." 
 
 '^My point of view is that of the planter, the 
 producer, ' ' said "Ware. ^ * I don 't know much about 
 the market side of things. But it has often struck 
 me what a queer artificial structure has been built 
 up. When one thinks of all the trains and steam- 
 ers rushing about over the earth and sea, carrying 
 people backwards and forwards with their minds 
 fixed on selling something, the cargo space full of 
 materials dragged from one part of the world to 
 the other ... for really no very necessary 
 reason. ' ' 
 
 '^Oh, oh, commercial exchange is indispens- 
 able.'' 
 
 ''Now, yes, but it has all been built up upon in- 
 vented needs. The world did get along without all 
 these efforts that you and I are making to pro- 
 duce and ship materials. . . . Think of it! Iron 
 from one place, coal and goatskins and diamonds 
 from somewhere else — much of it for the sake of 
 some trader making a profit in imaginary money 
 by persuading people that they want something 
 that they haven't got. They tickle the acquisitive 
 faculty of the world. And here are millions of men 
 and women loading themselves up with rubbish, 
 filling houses with bits of silk and polished wood 
 and glass and silver and delivering up their whole 
 lives to all that collection of dead stuff . . . Half 
 the people on the globe allow themselves to be 
 talked into believing that they must own these 
 things. And what's the truth? All such property 
 is a peg in the foot. A peg, nothing more." 
 
 At that moment the tinkle of cups sounded. 
 
74 BLACK GOLD 
 
 Margarita rose, held out her hand to Custodio. 
 ** After what you said, you must come and have 
 tea with me," she laughed, knowing well that his 
 gallantry would drive him even to that desperate 
 deed. 
 
 That night they saw the Southern Cross lying 
 across a sapphire sky. 
 
vn 
 
 ON a brilliant afternoon a few days later 
 Affonso Guimaraes came to Margarita's Jeck 
 corner. Dressed in shining white, his olive skin 
 and black hair set off to better advantage than in 
 the smothering formal clothes of midwinter 
 Europe, he seemed to be a taller and more assured 
 man. He had something of the proprietor's air 
 about him, too, she thought. 
 
 '^Do you want to see the Amazon? Here it is, 
 come to meet us,'' he said. Going with him to the 
 rail, her eyes followed his directing hand. All the 
 sea was changed from its Atlantic transparent 
 gray-blue to a heavy lead color, thickly streaked 
 with turgid yellow. 
 
 He explained in his slow, rather studied Eng- 
 lish: *'Here it is, you see, two hundred miles be- 
 yond the mouth of the river. The sea, even this 
 immense sea, can do nothing against the heavy 
 Amazon water. There is nothing democratic about 
 our Amazon — it is a conqueror, proud of its golden 
 blood, pushing aside every other thing. In a few 
 hours you will see no more traces of blue sea- 
 water; we shall be riding upon the native, intact 
 body of our rio das AmazonasJ^ 
 
 He kindled visibly as he said it. The air of a 
 proprietor waxed. It was his river, his people's 
 river, and he felt not only that it had made him, 
 but that he had had a hand in making it. It 
 wouldn't have been quite the same thing if it had 
 not belonged to the Brazilians. 
 
 75 
 
76 BLACK GOLD 
 
 She gave him an innocent smile. **It doesn't 
 seem to have much conscience about taking your 
 land away — look, there's a little island just float- 
 ing past. What a fearful lot of land it must have 
 washed away, to be so muddy!" 
 
 He waved a generous hand. **We can spare it. 
 Besides, perhaps it's Peruvian." He took her back 
 to her chair, bent over her hand, and kissed it 
 discreetly. 
 
 **More beautiful things go up the river than 
 ever come down," he said. **May you return, if 
 return you will and must, in health and joy." 
 
 John Ware, pacing the deck at this sentimental 
 moment, looked coolly at the bent back and met 
 Margarita's eyes without the slightest relaxation 
 of his impassive face. He didn't even pay her the 
 compliment of noticing what she did, she said in 
 her heart, and experienced a feeling of desolation 
 and anger that astonished her. She smiled upon 
 the Brazilian, but answered him at such random 
 thenceforth that he presently left her tactfully. 
 She stared at the ever-yellowing flood that swept 
 the ship's side until Salvatore came panting up 
 the stairs, out of temper after sleeping too long in 
 a hot cabin, to shepherd his flock below to the 
 piano. 
 
 **I don't expect you girls can sing a single note 
 decently," he predicted with gloom, ^*by this 
 time. And I've known more than one good con- 
 tralto to turn into a rotten soprano in a hot cli- 
 mate. Now, Bianca, there 's no excuse for you to 
 sing from your stomach at the end of a trip like 
 iliis. ..." 
 
 **My sweet husband!" murmured Francina. 
 *' Prepare for death, children." But by some acci- 
 dent of fate the out-of-tune instrument and the 
 
BLACK GOLD 77 
 
 voices of the three girls and the young tenor 
 sounded well in those fastidious ears. Soon Sal- 
 vatore, shouting, playing, singing, conducting, 
 irradiated in smiles. 
 
 ' ' You are all glorious ! I never heard such lovely 
 tones in my life — not since I left Macdougal 
 Street,'' he declared. ** We shall make some money 
 yet this trip, girls. You see if we don't. We'll 
 skin them. You just keep your head, Bianca, and 
 do what I say. None of your flighty nonsense, 
 now, when you get on shore and meet all these 
 rubber millionaires and politicians that haven't 
 seen a handsome girl like you for six years. . . . 
 You take my advice." An unstable peace 
 descended upon the party. 
 
 The Pomha docked at crack of dawn next morn- 
 ing and her passengers woke to the sound of 
 rattling winches, finding the vessel already un- 
 loading. Crowded against the wharf side, cheek 
 by jowl with two other overseas ships, she was 
 but one of a line of busy shipping edging the 
 water. 
 
 The shore, sloping upwards from the wharf's 
 side, swarmed with men of all colors and many 
 races, from blue-black Negro to white Portuguese; 
 most of them were cheerful, olive-skinned mesti- 
 zos with thick black hair, fine eyes and teeth. 
 Lightly dressed, barefoot, with cotton trousers 
 and shirts open at the neck, streaming with per- 
 spiration, they shouted and called with laughter 
 to each other as they worked, now and then yell- 
 ing and gesticulating with excitement that seemed 
 always to be working up to something that never 
 happened. 
 
 A glaring sun soon flooded the yellow river, 
 spread a haze over the line of green opposite the 
 
78 BLACK GOLD 
 
 city, and touched the gray-colored roofs. Heat, 
 damp and heavy, descended like a palpable thing. 
 Salvatore went ashore as quickly as he could to 
 try to learn news of the Italia, but returned with 
 no tidings. She had not arrived. He was inclined 
 to be gloomy about it: **It would be my luck if 
 she went to the bottom of the Atlantic, and all 
 that good money I spent on those girls wasted,'' 
 he sighed, but, femininely soothed, presently re- 
 covered and consented to go sight-seeing ashore 
 with his womenfolk. 
 
 Most of the Pomha's passengers were going to 
 Manaos, but like everyone who touches at a tropic 
 port after long voyaging, they were eager to get 
 out into the sunshine and to pace solid pavements. 
 Before eight o 'clock the carriages and automobiles 
 plying near the docks had swept every passenger 
 into the city. 
 
 Margarita found herself sitting with her sister 
 and John Ware in a smart car, that, turning from 
 the dock, mounted a steep incline and presently 
 emerged into a well-asphalted straight street. She 
 had an impression, as they approached one of the 
 plazas, of extraordinary deep greenness. A mass 
 of verdure stood high and deep, no tamed garden 
 but rather a slice of overbearing forest. Tall palms 
 with pillared trunks and fantastic, enormous 
 green hands extended stiffly rose above massive 
 trees crowded with glossy foliage. Through the 
 maze of green could be seen gnarled, ancient boles 
 with bright tufts of air plants and orchids swarm- 
 ing in every crevice. Long ropes of lianes hung 
 with their wide leaves curiously motionless in the 
 heavy damp air. Strong masses of lush tropical 
 plants grew among the knotted roots; the whole 
 
BLACK GOLD 79 
 
 garden dripped and exuded moisture, sweltering 
 in strangled green. 
 
 Beside this park they stopped, to enter the hotel 
 for breakfast. The theatre, just opposite, was 
 proudly pointed out, a valiant erection seen 
 through the screen of trees. Inside a cool white 
 room, whose long doors stood open to the pave- 
 ment, they sat at a round table and received the 
 discreet glances of half a dozen white-clad men 
 who drank tiny cups of black coffee. 
 
 *^We are still under the spell of the English 
 breakfast,'' said Ware, ordering eggs ao prato 
 and guava paste. *^It fades under Amazonian 
 heat. I revert to South American food customs 
 directly I see palm trees and so will you. . . . 
 Before you know where you are, Antonelli, you'll 
 be getting up at five in the morning, drinking 
 black coffee, doing a good four or five hours' work, 
 and eating a seven-course meal at eleven o 'clock. ' ' 
 
 ** Heaven forbid!" Salvatore, preoccupied, re- 
 fused to go sight-seeing with his womenfolk. 
 Gladly abandoning them to the two Brazilians 
 and Ware, he mapped out a strenuous morning in 
 the theatre and the inner offices of the wealthy. 
 The rest of his party presently drove off, heading 
 first for the older part of the water front. The sun 
 appeared to be mounting with extraordinary 
 rapidity, sending violent showers of light into the 
 pale streets. 
 
 * ^I want you to see our market on the Ver-o-peso 
 before the other sights," Custodio said. ''The 
 botanical gardens and the pottery in the museum 
 can wait. You can see labelled pots and arranged 
 plants in any part of the world. But here is some- 
 thing vital — something of the genuine, everyday 
 life of our people." 
 
80 BLACK GOLD 
 
 They drove down again to the waterside, this 
 time to the cut made for the accommodation of 
 the small craft, the emhar cacaoes, that not only 
 performed the continuous traffic of the riverine 
 network, but were the habitations of a thousand 
 families. Against the edge of the canal were 
 moored scores of jostling boats, with others ply- 
 ing up and down with busy paddles or skimming 
 along with bright-colored sails hoisted. They had 
 this in common: all were home-made, whether 
 narrow dugouts and canoes of the up-river people 
 with Indian blood in their veins, or the more am- 
 bitiously contrived boats with a cover, the toldo, 
 for shelter against sun and rain, or stout craft 
 constructed for traversing the rapids of the in- 
 terior waterways, covered at either end, as solid 
 as Noah's ark. The crowd of sails, rust-red and 
 verdigris-blue, made the river as lively as the 
 Gulf of Venice. 
 
 On the edge of the cut the market folk were buy- 
 ing from the river traders — bananas, bundles of 
 herbs and medicinal roots, turtle oil, small quan- 
 tities of rubber, dried fish and cacao beans. Fac- 
 ing the water front, across the street, were scores 
 of one-storied shops that in turn stocked the river 
 traders. Inside, the shelves were stuffed with 
 canned fruits and meats, flour and tobacco; out- 
 side were piles of cotton hammocks, coverlets, 
 coarse straw native hats, rope sandals, and ready- 
 made shirts. A continuous noise of good-humored 
 chaffering rose into the sunny air, men and women 
 exchanging news and comradely pleasantries. 
 
 This region, set aside for petty commerce, with 
 its public scales so that people can *^see-the- 
 weight, ' ' probably did not in a whole week involve 
 the turnover of as much money as was made by 
 
BLACK GOLD 81 
 
 any of the big rubber merchants in the business 
 section of Para in a day, but here was the genuine 
 life, the real industry, of the Amazonian dwellers. 
 Simply philosophic, devoted to the lives that they 
 live in eternal contact with the river and the 
 forest, a free and masterless folk. 
 
 The sun was high, pouring floods of heavy heat 
 into the stony business section, as they went 
 through the long ruas and travessas of Para, 
 straight streets laid out at right angles to each 
 other. The newcomers read the names of little 
 stores — A Paris n 'America, A Africana, and A 
 Formosa Paraense, and made obeisance on first 
 introduction to the oiiro preto of the Amazon. 
 
 Here it lay, this famous black gold, piles of big 
 balls on the pavement and inside the doors of long 
 warehouses. Some of the balls were cut in half, 
 showing the creamy hearts close-packed with 
 layers like great unopened roses. 
 
 *'The buyer cuts them open to see what the 
 quality is, and how many bits of wood and old 
 iron the seringueiro has put in to make his pelle 
 weigh more,'' somebody explained. They drove 
 to the outskirts of the city, passing again the 
 Theatro da Paz, along the Avenida de Nazareth 
 with its great dark green spreading mangoes 
 meeting overhead, the fruit hanging on long 
 strings like decorations on a Christmas tree. Fol- 
 lowing the Souza car line, they ran out along a 
 green wide road, with heavy grass and tropic 
 weeds springing between the rails. Rose-colored 
 mimosas ran over the paths, and thick-leaved lilies 
 sprang at the borders of the ditches where bright, 
 light-green woods stood. The elaborate houses of 
 rich merchants rose here and there, but between 
 and behind them the dripping green forest crept 
 
82 BLACK GOLD 
 
 Tip and crowded. The whole region was heavy 
 with the breath of the forest. Green vistas over- 
 whelmed the lane openings, a faint blue mist hang- 
 ing over everything. 
 
 Far out lay the big new market where sacks of 
 tapioca and piles of palm cabbages stood side by 
 side with mounds of dried shrimps; they stopped 
 at the Bosque and saw the blue-black back of the 
 melancholy cowfish in the pool, went on to the 
 museum, standing in its lush, thick green gardens 
 full of tremendous struggling tropic trees and 
 plants, stared at the strange beasts and the bril- 
 liant birds of the Amazon, and glanced at the 
 rooms where funeral urns and poor little house- 
 hold pots of dead and forgotten tribes sat for- 
 lornly on shelves, docketed and registered. 
 
 Margarita was fairly willing to be instructed, 
 or at least was not openly restive, but Francina 
 and Beatriz, frankly bored by museums, ended by 
 refusing to look at the Indian pottery. ^^They 
 have been dead such a long time, and I am alive, 
 and I hate to think of dying and being put in a 
 clay jar,'' Francina said. She bought bundles 
 of the labyrintho lace from the tiny shops in nar- 
 row, crowded streets of the older quarter, and here 
 her interest in Para ended. Returning to the 
 Grande Hotel for lunch, they found Salvatore 
 waiting. He had spent a happy morning. 
 
 ''I could make a heap of money here if I can 
 only get the girls safely away from Manaos," he 
 declared. **I shall lock them up and chain them 
 down.'' 
 
 John "Ware joined their table, immaculate in 
 his white clothes, his fair coolness accentuated by 
 the dazzling heat. It seemed to Margarita that he 
 was a little absent-minded, and she reproached 
 
BLACK GOLD 83 
 
 him for this without getting more than a long, 
 keen look from him in reply. As the shores of 
 Brazil were approached he had almost ostentati- 
 ously left her to the new environment, and now 
 she could not resist the idea that he was expecting 
 a sea change to take place in her, and was looking 
 on at the process with detached amusement. 
 
 In the middle of almogo, three people entered 
 the room amid quite a flutter of excitement among 
 the waiters; many heads were turned to look at 
 the party. An old lady, upright, dignified, dressed 
 in black, was followed by a beautiful young girl 
 in white. She appeared to be about eighteen, and 
 looked like a bisque china doll, with enormous 
 dark eyes fringed with long lashes; her oval face 
 was covered in powder. Behind them came a tall 
 man with a slight stoop, acknowledging salutes 
 as men rose and bowed here and there from the 
 tables. 
 
 *^Evaristo da Cunha, the deputy governor of 
 Amazonas,'' Ware said to Margarita, and Custodio 
 and Aifonso, excusing themselves quickly, went 
 to exchange a word with their cousin. *'The girl? 
 I don't know. One of the family, of course. I 
 don't know the old lady, either — one almost never 
 sees the women, you know, except now and again 
 at functions, and then they are all made up to look 
 just alike.'' 
 
 Max Denis, sitting beyond Affonso's chair, fol- 
 lowed the young girl with bright eyes, his bleached 
 face alight. *^Just out of a convent, or she 
 wouldn't look so assured and sophisticated," he 
 said. ^* Oh, how I love these veiled girls I Flowers 
 grown under a glass shade, innocent as a snow- 
 drop, and not a thing in the whole world that they 
 don't know. Adorable I" j 
 
84 BLACK GOLD 
 
 Custodio and Affonso returned. *'Our consins 
 hope to make your acquaintance after lunch, with 
 your permission," the older man said formally 
 to Francina. **Evaristo came here to escort our 
 aunt, Madame de Freitas, back to Manaos. She 
 is just returning from Rio with her grand- 
 daughter, who has spent the last two years in a 
 French convent there. ' ' 
 
 Max glanced at Ware with a **What did I tell 
 you?'' expression, and Francina permitted her- 
 self a discreet glance in the direction of the dep- 
 uty governor and his party. She met a look that 
 sent a thrill of excitement through her, a look 
 from sombre eyes that were sleepy and yet bril- 
 liant, instantly withdrawn after the first second of 
 encounter. It was as if two expert swordsmen had 
 momentarily crossed weapons. 
 
 Evaristo da Cunha was at that time a man of 
 forty-six. He had a shock of thick gray hair, 
 plumed above an oval face; his skin was very 
 white, and there was no color on his still face but 
 the black of his eyebrows, the long line of his 
 dark eyes, and the curves of his beautifully shaped 
 lips. He was always fastidiously dressed, and, 
 rather an exception in that land of jewels, wore no 
 pin in his tie and no ring upon his long ivory 
 hands. He cultivated an atmosphere of mysterious 
 elegance, and was rather a silent man, affecting a 
 constant, very slight, smile upon his closed lips 
 in lieu of conversation. 
 
 Custodio bent towards her. ^^What do you 
 think of our politician?" 
 
 Francina laughed. **A fascinating creature! 
 How I should enjoy a flirtation with him — in 
 public." 
 
 ^^Cuidado, madamel Take care I" 
 
BLACK GOLD 85 
 
 ''I said in pnblic. It's delicious dancing on 
 volcanoes/' 
 
 *^I warn you! Our Evaristo isn't a volcano. He 
 is a born gamester whose one instinct is to win. 
 That's why he is such a good politician to fol- 
 low . . . but with him it's a game because he craves 
 power, acquisition, money — all that the game will 
 give him. He lives often for long periods, but only 
 temporarily, the life of an ascetic, and yet he loves 
 money, will do anything for money because it's a 
 tool. He makes his plans for money as if he were 
 hungry for it, and yet he really only uses it for 
 one thing." 
 
 She laughed. '^Yes? What?" 
 
 **The man who is avid for money is nearly 
 always avid for flesh. ' ' 
 
 **You are very frank." 
 
 ''Are you angry? I am very sorry. ... It is 
 because you are so clever, madame. Please let 
 me say! I admire you and your sister so much, I 
 take it as a personal compliment that two such 
 distinguished young women should come to visit 
 us . . . " he said as she rose, and went on, accom- 
 panying her to the door: ''If your party from 
 Italy is not delayed, we shall have the pleasure 
 of ascending the river with you." 
 
 '^'That will be delightful." She smiled upon 
 him as they stood in the lobby. 
 
 He continued : " I am very much attached to our 
 friend Mr. Ware. I suppose you know that he is 
 associated with my family estates up above 
 Manaos — he is very serious and hard-working, 
 and is helping to reform a very poor seringal—- 
 piece of rubber forest, you know. He has an inter- 
 est in it; he is an admirable fellow. Patient, accur- 
 ate, very sincere." 
 
86 BLACK GOLD 
 
 She yawned very slightly. **Yes, he has all the 
 virtues of the Englishman.'' 
 
 ** Women — appreciate — those virtues, nao eT' 
 
 **Some women, no doubt. I don't know if I do. 
 You see, all that such a man wants is a peg to 
 hang his niceness on. Perhaps it's what most men 
 
 want. But to be the peg " She stopped as 
 
 Evaristo, his aunt upon his arm, approached them. 
 Margarita, talking to the girl, the serene Leona, 
 followed, Affonso in attendance. A few minutes 
 of courtesies supervened, and then Francina went 
 upstairs to sleep, while Margarita capitulated to 
 Custodio's offer of **The last sight I shall trouble 
 your eyes with in Para, mademoiselle. But this I 
 wish you to see. I will come for you at five o'clock, 
 when it is not so hot and there is still an hour's 
 light." ^ 
 
 Late in the afternoon therefore Margarita went 
 with him to a quiet square down in the older part 
 of the city, where deep, cool blue shadows lay on 
 one entire side, and feathery trees grew in a sleep- 
 ing garden. At one side stood a worn old building, 
 inscribed: *^ Hospital do Senhor Bom Jesus/' Tat- 
 tered cotton clothes hung on the bars of its win- 
 dow spaces. Outside was an overflow of people 
 for whom there was no room. A cart, full of tragic 
 bundles and remnants of house furniture, con- 
 tained all their possessions ; a couple of dogs slept 
 in the sun. Sitting on the edge of the pavement, 
 some half asleep, others staring into vacancy, 
 were a score or more of men, women and children, 
 the retirantes, the flagellados, withdrawn and 
 scourged folk from the drought regions of Ceara. 
 
 ^*0n this misery has been built the rubber 
 industry of the Amazon," said Custodio. 
 
 They had the appearance of people from whom 
 
BLACK GOLD 87 
 
 almost the last drop of blood had been sncked. The 
 hollow-eyed and listless women; gaunt men, with 
 fevered lips and all the bones of their cheeks show- 
 ing through the stretched skin; little limp chil- 
 dren with arms and legs like pale sticks. They did 
 not speak, but sat uncomplaining, their heads 
 bowed. Several of the children were very fair, 
 inheritors of the Dutch strain that has run through 
 North Brazil since the day of Maurice of Nassau. 
 
 Margarita, distressed, could scarcely bear to 
 leave them. Couldn't something be done? Food 
 or money . . . ? 
 
 ''Not from you or me," said Custodio. ''They 
 would resent it. They are very proud and inde- 
 pendent. All these people were small landowners, 
 and will be again, probably, if they can tide the 
 bad times over. The State governments are doing 
 all that can be done for them, transporting them 
 from the burnt lands to some place where they 
 can work. Ah, that drought country!'' 
 
 They walked slowly from the square. "When 
 no rain falls in Ceara, then all the ground opens 
 in cracks, the beds of the rivers dry up and the 
 crops are scorched in the iron ground and the 
 cattle die and the people become living skeletons 
 like these, then they come to the Amazon. Here 
 at least is plenty of water — too much ! They go to 
 work in the deep rubber forests. All the men, and 
 sometimes all the family, go into the forest and 
 start tapping in some great seringal. Without 
 them, without the spur of the droughts, we should 
 never have enough labor on the Amazon.'' 
 
 "They look very sad and ill," she murmured, 
 much troubled. 
 
 "Often, they die. Others rouse up and live. 
 Then when the rains come in Ceara and the 
 
88 BLACK GOLD 
 
 scourged conntry blossoms like a magic garden, 
 and such crops spring up that anyone can get rich 
 in a year, then back they go. Ah, senhora, Brazil 
 wears many masks ..." 
 
 Late that afternoon Salvatore, spending much 
 time anxiously at the wharf, heard that the Italia 
 had been sighted. She docked before midnight, 
 and he went on board at once, returning an hour 
 later to waken Francina with lamentations 
 mingled with satisfaction. Only four girls had 
 come, with Beatriz Sf orzi, five musicians, and Lar- 
 oche, but these four were very pretty indeed, and 
 six more were to follow on the next boat. **He 
 ought to have waited for them," he declared, but 
 tried to console himself with assurances that an 
 agent in Italy had solemnly sworn to put the 
 selected beauties on board. 
 
 Next morning he was down at the dock before 
 the sun was up and overrode all grumblings of 
 the girls and the waspish Sforzi, insisting upon 
 transferring them at once to the Pomba, due to 
 proceed up the river that day. 
 
 **I dare not let those girls loose in Para," he de- 
 clared to Laroche. **I know more now than I did. 
 They would be simply burgled, stolen, torn from 
 me. I could never face Manaos ! Aren 't they pay- 
 ing for them? . . . Don't tell me; I don't care what 
 they say. I shall tell them the plague's raging, or 
 there 's a revolution or something. But not one of 
 them shall set foot ashore." 
 
 In a couple of hours he had them transferred, 
 but presently Francina intervened. It was bad 
 business to make them sulky at the outset, she was 
 sure. At least let her take them for an automobile 
 drive. She had her way, and packed the whole of 
 
BLACK GOLD 89 
 
 the company into three cars. Making concessions 
 to the fears of Salvatore, they went through the 
 city streets at top speed, and as soon as this 
 parade had been made for formes sake they turned 
 away for the long spin to Chapeo Verado. That 
 was pretty safe! But Salvatore knew no peace 
 until he saw the whole of his party back upon the 
 decks of the Pomba, retaining his anxious expres- 
 sion until that gallant ship weighed anchor, edged 
 herself from the crowd of shipping at the water's 
 edge, and began to skirt the southern edge of 
 Marajo Island on her way to the Amazon's great 
 channel. 
 
 At this time of the year there should have been 
 daily rains, but there had been an extraordinarily 
 long dry season that still did not break except in 
 fitful showers. The waters had only risen a few 
 feet, and sandbanks still showed in long lines of 
 pale gold at the edge of the green islands. All the 
 water paths were lively with little steamers and 
 riverine craft. 
 
 Francina, leaning over the rail of the captain's 
 little deck in the shadow of an awning, just before 
 dinner, perceived the approach of a white-clad 
 man. Evaristo, the perpetual little smile upon his 
 lips, came close, stood very near; he bowed low, 
 asked her consent to his remaining at her side, 
 and then leaned beside her without speaking for a 
 moment. There was no one in sight. She remained 
 with her elbows supporting her little chin, glanc- 
 ing indifferently at the water and the thick trees 
 by which the boat pressed. The deputy governor 
 spoke in a low and measured voice. 
 
 **When I saw you first, something — some spark 
 — passed between us. I felt it." 
 
 <<You must not say that to me," she said in a 
 
90 BLACK GOLD 
 
 surprised and distant manner. He took no notice. 
 
 *'I have been thinking of you all night,'' he 
 said, still in his low, intent voice. *^Look at me! 
 I implore you, look at me!'' 
 
 She raised eyes of incredible innocence to him, 
 and he drew in his breath sharply. She looked 
 away again as his eyes sank into hers, turning 
 her face so that he could see only the outline of 
 her round cheek and the burnished curves of her 
 fair hair. To that averted cheek she raised one 
 slim forefinger, and remained motionless, her 
 loose sleeve slipping from her arm, pearly in the 
 half light. Evaristo glanced quickly about, saw 
 no other person, and bent his head until his lips 
 touched that tempting arm. 
 
 As he kissed, with gentle and silent kisses, he 
 kept his eyes steadily upon her averted face. She 
 made no sign, apparently unheeding, until he, 
 perhaps a shade disconcerted by what he felt to 
 be her elaborated unconcern, forced the pace with 
 a whispered ^*I adore you! You are the most ex- 
 quisite woman I have ever seen! I adore you!" 
 
 At this she withdrew her arm, starting, and 
 cast a wondering look upon him. In the same 
 moment Margarita's big white hat appeared as 
 she ascended the stairway. Evaristo immediately 
 bowed very low and went away without uttering 
 another sound. 
 
 **The great man is extremely romantic look- 
 ing," Margarita thought, staring after him 
 frankly. **He rather looked as if he was being 
 sentimental. ' ' 
 
 *^He was." Francina was quite calm. '*What 
 else should he be doing, if he couldn't talk poli- 
 tics? . . . Since he's in good health. ..." She 
 laughed and resumed thoughtfully: ^* Latins, 
 
BLACK GOLD 91 
 
 Margie, are the only sort of men on earth who 
 should be allowed by law to make love. They are 
 so adept and so practical at the same time. They 
 are not really sentimental at heart about women, 
 and they don't invent qualities for us. . . . Thank 
 Heaven, too, they don't want us for intellectual 
 companions, nor as pegs to hang their own virtues 
 on. Do you want to be a peg, Margie ? ' ' 
 
 *'I seem to be hearing a lot about them," the 
 girl remarked. *' Property's a peg in your foot — 
 and women are pegs for sentimentalities?" 
 
 **Y-yes. Perhaps because they're property too. 
 . . ." Francina's brow was knitted. **A vexed 
 question, my darling, the true sphere of woman. 
 I like planes better than spheres. . . . They could 
 go to the moon. Oh, let's hurry 1 There's the 
 dinner bell." 
 
vin 
 
 WITH the Narrows threaded, they looked out 
 next morning upon an immense waste of 
 waters, golden in the sunlight, flecked with blue 
 shadows; they were upon the breast of the Amazon 
 itself, their faces turned westwards. Along the 
 northern shore, above and far behind the dead 
 level line of dark forest, rose a series of flat-topped 
 ridges, cut out in flat blue against the lighter sky. 
 Near at hand, on the southern shore where the 
 Pomha made her way to avoid the racing current 
 of mid-river, the forest was close enough now and 
 again to permit a sight of little fairy palms, their 
 feet in the yellow flood, or the long strings of 
 flowering vines that hung, looping from branch to 
 branch of the tall, naked-stemmed trees and tan- 
 gling the thick shrubs that grew on the margin. 
 
 The steamer often passed close to a dwelling of 
 the river folk, setting the slim canoe, the family's 
 sole means of communication with the outer 
 world, dancing against the mooring post. The 
 river huts, confiding themselves to the water 
 rather than to the forest, rose out of the Amazon 
 on six stout wooden legs, high enough to keep the 
 floor out of reach of the river's rises. Built of 
 wood and palm thatch, the house was waterproof, 
 airy and cool. 
 
 Its mistress, seen leaning from the window 
 space, dressed in a bright cotton garment, must 
 have little enough to do, you might think. She 
 had but one floor to sweep and no beds to make, 
 
BLACK GOLD 93 
 
 since the family slept in the hammocks suspended 
 from corner to corner. Food came chiefly from the 
 river itself, and into the river went anything that 
 she wanted to throw away. Cooking could not be 
 complicated, since the fire was but a pan of char- 
 coal, and the meals had little more variety than 
 that offered by different sorts of fish, accompanied 
 by the eternal farinha de mandioca. A bit of dried 
 beef, the beloved came secca, on rare occasions, a 
 handful of peppers, black beans, a few bananas, 
 a little coffee or cacao, made up almost the only 
 changes of menu. 
 
 The forest that walled in these river dwellers 
 at the back, that reared itself overhead and wove 
 tangles of thorny creepers against their entry, was 
 less friendly, less productive, than the river at 
 their feet. There was the main harvest, the high- 
 way linking them to the world. Looking out from 
 the little frail hut, they saw their only known uni- 
 verse go by; secure because no one would dispute 
 this desolation with them, they were consciously 
 proud of their independence, as proud as Arabs, 
 with the yellow river sea as their desert. 
 
 Margarita looked down at the scene upon the 
 lower deck, crowded with hundreds of flagellados. 
 She regarded them with a feeling that she was 
 committing an impertinence, but was reassured 
 at sight of their calm and dignified candor. The 
 hammocks, swung in tiers one above the other, 
 were for the most part left in place day and night, 
 since they were the only retreats where the 
 greater number of the Cearenses could sit and 
 rest. The women spent most of their time in pre- 
 paring meals, washing or dressing themselves or 
 their children, eating, and combing their hair. 
 The men talked, smoked, played their violas and 
 
94 BLACK GOLD 
 
 sang little gay songs. There was a continual sound 
 of laughter and lively talk, a pervading comrade- 
 ship and good humor. 
 
 The scent of strong black coffee rose into the 
 air, and, as she looked doAvn, Margarita saw a 
 thickset young man carrying a cup of coffee to 
 a hammock just beneath the spot where she stood. 
 The hammock was a beautiful white Ceara speci- 
 men, the sides edged with heavy lace, adorned 
 with huge tassels; from its deep folds a slender 
 arm, the color of old ivory, was extended, and a 
 young woman, her head bound with a white hand- 
 kerchief, raised herself. 
 
 Her face was pale; long eyelashes shaded her 
 eyes as if she was too tired or indifferent to keep 
 them open; thick dusky hair was parted over her 
 low forehead. She was very pretty. As she stirred, 
 a cry came from the folds of the hammock and 
 Margarita saw that she held a baby to her breast. 
 
 The young man, murmuring gentle words, bent 
 over her, took the child and held it to his broad 
 face with an air of rapture. He lifted its tiny 
 hands and kissed each feeble finger deliberately, 
 with an emphasis of love so passionate, so nearly 
 ecstatic, that Margarita turned away her eyes, 
 feeling shame in looking. She was about to leave 
 the rail when she caught sight of a little child, 
 perhaps two or three years old, a very fair little 
 child, who ran to the hammock and cried out in a 
 shrill, imperious treble. At once the face of the 
 man underwent a peculiar change; the radiance 
 died as if a candle had been snuffed out suddenly, 
 leaving it like wood. He was nothing now but a 
 stolid Indian with a yellow skin and small flat 
 black eyes. 
 
 The girl in the hammock spoke, stretching out 
 
BLACK GOLD 95 
 
 her delicate hand, and he, apparently obeying, set 
 the baby down on the deck, took away the cnp, 
 and then lifted into the hammock the tiny girl 
 who still stood calling out, as she braced herself 
 by the heavy fringe. 
 
 Ware came up behind Margarita. **What do 
 you think of our labor recruits?'^ 
 
 She retorted: '*I don't see them as labor re- 
 cruits. I see crowds of people all living together, 
 packed like sardines, and being polite and good- 
 tempered about it." 
 
 He, too, looked down, and immediately ex- 
 claimed: ^'Good heavens, there's Vicente! What 
 an extraordinary thing! That caboclo, that half- 
 Indian chap — the very best man I ever had work- 
 ing for me on the river '' Leaning over the 
 
 rail, his voice or gesture caught the eye of the 
 young man below. He looked up and his face 
 broke into a broad, beaming smile. He took off 
 his straw hat and held it against his breast as he 
 bowed: ^^Patrao!" 
 
 *^If you'll pardon me, I must go down and 
 speak to him, ' ' said Ware, and ran down the lad- 
 der to the lower deck. Margarita saw him take 
 Vicente aside, shake his hand; the two remained 
 talking quickly for a few minutes. Then they 
 came forward to the hammock and Ware saluted 
 the girl with courteous kindness, patting the 
 heads of the children. Margarita, returning to 
 her deck chair, encountered Madame de Freitas. 
 
 ^^What have you seen?" inquired that lady, 
 shrewd eyes looking out from a hundred wrinkles. 
 
 '^I think, a man who loves — if that is not too 
 absurd. Dc Brazilians love very much?" 
 
 The old lady laughed. *^ Yes, it is quite common. 
 This is still a land where there are more men than 
 
96 BLACK GOLD 
 
 women, and the rare is always prized. What do 
 you say, Custodio? Do you spoil our Brazilian 
 women f He drew his chair towards them and 
 answered slowly: 
 
 ** Spoil? No. We give them everything, steal 
 and kill for them, ruin ourselves if they are exi- 
 gent or flighty. But they remain the same. 
 Spoiled, no." 
 
 **It is said that you don't trust them vfery 
 muchr' Margarita suggested. 
 
 ** Perhaps. ... I think there is always a little 
 desconfianga, A woman is a delicate flower. Our 
 houses, too, are still our castles, charmed circles, 
 almost a walled sanctity, not easily penetrated.'' 
 
 **Alas! in the southern cities, Rio and Sao 
 Paulo, it is not quite the same now . . . too much 
 wealth. And then, perhaps, the example of for- 
 eigners," the old lady regretted. 
 
 **I think it's the result of having good paving 
 and trains and telephones," Custodio argued. 
 ''When women only went out in carriages over 
 streets impassable with mud things were differ- 
 ent; but now they are beginning to jump into 
 street cars and run all about the town every day." 
 
 '^I do not like it," Madame de Freitas said. ''I 
 prefer the position of our women as it is." 
 
 Denis, approaching, had something to say. *'At 
 least it's very convenient for the men. It leaves 
 them free to spend all their nights at the clubs 
 and their days in the cafes." 
 
 ''Does my wife object to that if I do?" de- 
 manded Custodio. "She would not care to accom- 
 pany me. She has her occupations, and emphatic- 
 ally they are not mine — care of her children, 
 her house, her clothes. She spends hours every 
 day over her dressmaker and making her sweets. 
 
BLACK GOLD 97 
 
 Does she wish me to help her? She prefers the 
 society of her cousins and aunts and children." 
 
 '*An excellent theory for men: I support it 
 heartily!'' Denis said, and Madame de Freitas, 
 experienced, shrewdly frank, agreed. ^^As a 
 woman, my opinion is the same. It is much better 
 for a casalf a married couple, not to see too much 
 of each other, not to invade each other's spheres. 
 What happens in countries where men and women 
 are constantly together, in business and amuse- 
 ment? They have no children, and then they are 
 always divorcing each other. No wonder! There 
 is no charm left, they have no ties, and no home — 
 nothing that can be regarded as sacred even if 
 couples are no longer madly in love." She sat up 
 and emphasized her point with her tiny hands. 
 
 ^'This companionship before marriage, too, 
 what a frightful mistake! How can a man think 
 of a woman as a closed garden of mysteries if he 
 has run about with her for months and years, and 
 seen her running about with a dozen other young 
 men! Horrible! All my granddaughters are be- 
 ing brought up in convents, and when they are old 
 enough and pretty enough to marry, I take them 
 out one by one, exhibit just the tips of their noses 
 to an eligible young man, and marry them off 
 without the delay of a week." 
 
 ''You are a believer in harems, madame?" 
 
 Denis said deferentially. 
 
 *'But certainly! Where else do women rule?" 
 
 ''They have insisted on getting outside them?" 
 
 Custodio intervened: "Not voluntarily. They 
 
 may not know it, but be sure that they have been 
 
 driven out by economic necessity — or curiosity." 
 
 He looked with a smile at Margarita. She retorted 
 
 impudently: 
 
98 BLACK GOLD 
 
 *' Curiosity about — you?" 
 
 *' Would that it were, mademoiselle!" He bowed 
 low. 
 
 '^Oh, but I am curious! I think I should like a 
 Brazilian husband myself, Madame de Freitas 
 recommends them so highly." 
 
 The old lady's wrinkles creased deeply as she 
 laughed. ^*That is delightful! I hope you will let 
 us all remember that. . . . My dear, the Brazilian 
 is very easy to understand. I shall explain him to 
 you, and Custodio, do not dare to contradict me! 
 Before marriage, he is a suppliant, an adorer of 
 the remote and beautiful. Afterwards, of course, 
 his feelings change a little. Any woman of intel- 
 ligence adapts herself to that — it is a logical 
 alteration. . . . Then, if she bears children, his 
 attitude becomes tender, there is no foolishness he 
 will not forgive her " 
 
 ''That is because Brazilians carry child wor- 
 ship to extremes," Custodio declared. But she 
 would not have this. 
 
 *'No, no! Our Brazilians adore their children, 
 but the feeling of the husband is not gratitude to 
 the mother of his babies. It is something other 
 than that. I have often thought about this since 
 I became an old woman and able to regard my 
 family and friends with detachment." 
 
 She looked keenly at the group before her and 
 challenged Denis with old, bright eyes. '*I think 
 that our men, like the French, become maternal to 
 their women when there are children. Not hus- 
 bandly or even paternal, but motherly. In a man- 
 ner, they seem to identify themselves with nature: 
 they have helped to create a real woman, brought 
 her to fulfillment." 
 
BLACK GOLD 99 
 
 Francina, coming quietly to them, leaning npon 
 her sister ^s chair, uttered a little sound under 
 cover of the laughter and protests. '*Dios men!'' 
 she murmured, **The True Sphere of Woman 
 again! It is intolerable.'' 
 
 Custodio was standing up, emphatic. ''Oh, be- 
 loved aunt of mine, you credit us poor men with 
 feelings too intricate, I fear. I wish we could lay 
 claim to such rarified emotions. I do not deny 
 that we are foolish about our families, but our 
 great madness for children is due, I am convinced, 
 to the tremendous need we have of them. Each 
 healthy child is a national asset." 
 
 Madame de Freitas interrupted. **Ah, Custo- 
 dio! Now it is you who are fantastic! No man is 
 so patriotic that he rejoices in his sons as gifts 
 to the government.'' 
 
 ''Not consciously. You said just now, though, 
 that the rare are always prized " 
 
 "Rare! My sister in Santos has eighteen chil- 
 dren!" 
 
 " — The country is so immense and we are so 
 few, comparatively. We are not enough to plant 
 our own corn and beans. We have to send out 
 into the world and beg immigrants to come, pay- 
 ing their way from Europe and asking them to 
 lend us their heads and hands. ' ' 
 
 "That needn't worry you," shrugged Denis. 
 "All of the Americas are in the same boat. Try- 
 ing to create a permanent white population with 
 imported blood in a territory that bred an ab- 
 original race with skins of a color that should be 
 a standing lesson and a warning." He lowered 
 his voice as he ended, but the old lady was not 
 offended. 
 
100 BLACK GOLD 
 
 **You know very well, senlior, that our Portu- 
 guese ancestors did not make any mistake about 
 that,'' she reminded him coolly. *'The clever old 
 Jesuits were aware that the only chance for a per- 
 manent population was mixture with our Indians 
 ... we are all proud of that blood." 
 
 Custodio went back to his point. **Yes, and 
 that's why we absorb the African, down on the 
 Bahia coast. We have managed to avoid a color 
 question while we acquired a population that can 
 resist the climate." 
 
 **Ah, race questions! What an infinity of bit- 
 terness !" 
 
 ** There needn't and shouldn't be any in the 
 Americas, of all countries, where the real native 
 is relegated to extinction and we are all 
 intruders " 
 
 ** Benefactors," interpolated Denis slily. 
 
 ** Perhaps. But at least we should recognize the 
 fact that tropical and subtropical lands in such a 
 light zone as most of the Americas can't support 
 a permanent blonde race. They die out. Without 
 the constant inflow of invigorating blood you get 
 sterility and degeneracy in a few generations. The 
 only alternative is mixture with a colored race. 
 The Asiatic can survive here, probably. . . . But 
 pure fruit from a European tree, never! Mentally, 
 it is true, we are heirs of Greece and Rome and 
 modem western Europe " 
 
 Denis got up and bowed to Madame de Freitas 
 as he moved away. '* Brazil," he remarked, **can 
 at least make one remarkable claim. She is the 
 one American country that doesn't revile her 
 European mother. . . . Look at the black water! 
 We must be getting near Santarem." 
 
BLACK aOLDi 101 
 
 That night a pall of heat smothered the boat. 
 She panted, churning her way against the current, 
 seeming to fight the heavy air as well as the 
 water. Stars glimmered feebly through a mantle 
 of black velvet. The line of forest was a vaguely 
 darker blur. As if stimulated by the oppressive 
 atmosphere and the suffocating dark, the 
 ** scourged folk'' of the lower deck cleared a space 
 among the hammocks and sang and danced. Sleep, 
 perhaps, was an impossible thing. 
 
 Margarita stood, young Guimaraes by her side, 
 and looked down upon that curious scene. Ship's 
 lanterns threw violent shadows, and dark faces, 
 glistening with perspiration, smiling with flashes 
 of white teeth, came and went as groups shuffled 
 and swayed in the posturing dances. A dozen meil 
 strummed the wailing violas : and from every side, 
 from every mouth, rose the syncopated, pulsating 
 song, steeped in African magic. 
 
 When an interval came and the dancers sub- 
 sided, breathless, the provocative tune continued. 
 Suddenly two slim and tall boys jumped into the 
 flickering circle of light and began to dance, their 
 lithe bodies swaying from the hips. The haunting, 
 melancholy beat of ancient music throbbed into 
 the breathless night. The young men danced until 
 they fell aside, and some one began to sing. 
 
 '^That's the 'Matuto de Ceara,' " Custodio said. 
 '*You notice that everybody knows the words — 
 even my foreign-educated nephew here!" He 
 smiled ironically at Affonso Guimaraes, bending 
 over the rail with alight face, and translated 
 rapidly to the girls. *'Ah, now listen! That's the 
 immortal, the eternal song of the drought country, 
 this one! Please listen!" 
 
95 '■ • jBLAGK GOLD 
 
 H 
 
 A dark girl stood up, full-breasted, black 
 crinkled hair on either side of a vivid face. She 
 sang sweetly and clearly: 
 
 "O men doi morreii! 
 Que serd deinim! 
 — Manda tusca outrOf 
 Ld no Piauhyr* 
 
 *'You hear it? *My cow died! What will be- 
 come of me? Go and seek another, over there in 
 Piauhy' — ^where the drought does not come,'' 
 Margarita heard someone tell her. As in a dream 
 she watched the shining, laughing, tragic faces. 
 Somebody, playing a guitar cleverly, stood up 
 and sang as he played, his challenging voice sent 
 to one side and another as he bent from the hips. 
 
 **When a black man dies, they say the drink 
 killed him. But when a white man dies, it is be- 
 cause God has called him. . . . Whenever you see 
 a white man eating with a Negro, either the white 
 man is in his debt, or the food belongs to the black 
 man.'' Custodio translated rapidly, and added as 
 the song ended with a burst of applause and 
 laughter: *'A11 the people of the middle North 
 have been makers of sarcastic couplets since the 
 days of Gregorio de Mattos . . . and you see many 
 of us are frankly pro-Negro. We owe those folk 
 so much!" He looked down at the crowded, swel- 
 tering deck below and went on speaking quietly 
 to Margarita. 
 
 ** Laughter has saved the African from a broken 
 heart and extinction. Laughter and the gift of 
 bold loving. . . . Belief in a good God, and an easy 
 faculty of loyalty to the thing near at hand. Those 
 African slaves whom we dragged away and out- 
 raged, how they have influenced us! They have 
 given us so much more than the Indians who with- 
 
BLACK GOLD 103 
 
 drew themselves from the Portuguese conqueror. ' ' 
 The beat of the music ascended, provocative, cry- 
 ing to all the senses like a live thing. 
 
 The Brazilian looked down, his keen, withered 
 face alert. **You see what a social instinct those 
 people have — they did not learn that from the 
 Indian. Our natives won't leave the forest, won't 
 work for wages under a roof, won't accept any 
 conditions. But the Negro loves his fellow man, 
 fears loneliness and the deep forest, identifies 
 himself with us. A generation ago they were 
 slaves, nursing our childern; to-day they write our 
 poetry and sit in the national assembly " 
 
 **If we had a thousand Rondons," Affonso in- 
 terjected, **we might see the Indian there too. 
 And then we might know what he thinks. . . . 
 Ah, listen to that! There's a true Indian folk 
 song." 
 
 Below, the circle of absorbed faces turned to 
 the cleared space in the center where a couple 
 began to go through a series of intricate steps. A 
 voice sang: 
 
 "O little frog of the river margin!" 
 
 and response came in the next phrase: 
 
 "Don't throw me in the water! I should die of cold." 
 
 "O little frog, what are you doing in there?" 
 
 — "Putting on my stockings for my wedding." 
 
 "0 little frog, are you about to marry?" 
 
 — "Yes, to have my own wife to give me joy." 
 
 Margarita wanted to know what they were 
 drinking from the little painted cups. Native 
 rum, Custodio told her. 
 
 **Cachaca, very new and strong. If those heads 
 below were not dizzy with songs there might be 
 some quarreling. But they'll probably go to sleep 
 
104 ' BLACK GOLD 
 
 without the least trouble. Our people are always 
 very courteous and gentle with each other unless 
 some girl makes trouble. There really is no other 
 cause for violence in Brazil." 
 
 Francina turned to Evaristo, standing silent by 
 her side, his face pale in the half light, his eyes 
 withdrawn. She murmured to him: **A11 the Bra- 
 zilians except you are keeping time, singing the 
 songs, looking as if they were inclined to go down 
 and dance too. You don't dance'? You don't 
 singT' 
 
 He answered, smiling: '*No, and I never drink, 
 and I only smoke one cigar a day. ' ' 
 
 She laughed lightly. **What a rigid life! How 
 — ^how — ^uncompromising. ' ' 
 
 He bent so that his lips nearly touched her neck. 
 *'No. Not that. But the fact is that I have no 
 small vices. And my big vices are so immense 
 that they have become — could become — ^virtues.'' 
 
IX 
 
 RAIN poured down in ceaseless torrents next 
 - morning. 
 
 The river rolled in long and sullen lines, mud- 
 colored. A miasmio chill hung over the water, 
 and the plugging steamer was comfortless, damp 
 all through in a kind of cold perspiration. The 
 waiters shivered as they flitted about, little cups 
 of black coffee in their hands, their frail cotton 
 shirts pinned together at the neck. Nobody sang 
 or laughed or even talked out loud, and even the 
 pack of immigrants on the lower deck shrank into 
 their hammocks and were silent. 
 
 The forest retreated on either side, hiding itself 
 in the haze of rain until it was nothing but a 
 slightly darker shade against the soft tone of the 
 sky and tawny river. The huts of the water people 
 were without a sign of life. Salvatore, turning 
 his back upon the weather, rehearsed his company 
 remorselessly, taking them rapidly through 
 *^Boheme" and ^'Rigoletto'' and ^^Tosca." Only 
 two of the four chorus girls could sing with any 
 approach to precision, but the beauty of the quar- 
 tet was undeniable and of such an agreeable 
 quality that Salvatore did not concern himself 
 greatly about their usefulness as more than orna- 
 ments. He chaffed them jovially, permitting a red- 
 haired little marionette, Giulia, to pat his hand 
 and arrange his mane, winking over her shoulder 
 to his unperturbed Francina. 
 
 105 
 
106 BLACK GOLD 
 
 '*I am being tactful with them," he said dur- 
 ing one breathing spell, in a stage whisper to 
 Ware. **Who knows! They might make so much 
 money on the Amazon that they will all go back 
 to Italy and marry dukes." 
 
 Later in the day the rain ceased, the sun shone, 
 and a magic change came upon the river. The 
 forest steamed, the sky was blue, the boat sped 
 gaily. Where breaks occurred in the green ranks, 
 and the trees stood back, cattle strayed and 
 grazed in emerald clearings. Patches of maize 
 and sugar cane stood beside any thatched dwell- 
 ing, the rags of light-green bananas hung above. 
 Often, tiny inlets ran into these fields, rushes and 
 bright flowering plants grew as beside any brook 
 of the temperate zone, and the spikes of water 
 hyacinth rocked on their floats of glossy leaves. 
 
 Many little boats traversed these waters, some 
 with sails, with a covered end where the family 
 dwelt, for the Amazon is an eternal field of 
 abundance for the needy of North Brazil. If cot- 
 ton crops fail, if cacao trees become blighted or 
 debts cannot be paid, there is always the river as 
 refuge for a season. A boat, a sack of beans and 
 flour, and perhaps a few cheap articles of exchange 
 . . . then the family moves from point to point of 
 the upper waters, fishing, helping with cocoa har- 
 vests, going to the sandbanks in the season for 
 turtles' eggs, lending a hand with forest clearing 
 or nut gathering or hunting in the higher reaches 
 for the trees that yield the caucho rubber. 
 
 The Pomha passed Obidos in another deluge 
 of rain. The passengers on the upper deck sat 
 together talking and reading, rather miserable 
 with the depression that invades tropical regions 
 
BLACK GOLD 107 
 
 directly the skies are overcast. The Cearenses 
 huddled under the sagging awning, silent except 
 when some courageous spirit tinkled his guitar, 
 enduring the discomfort of the rains with the 
 same grim patience that bore them through the 
 terrors of the drought. They did not fight; they 
 endured. 
 
 Custodio, watching the procession of the veiled 
 forest, said that it ** always gave him a curious 
 sensation of receiving a challenge" whenever he 
 returned to the Amazon after an absence. 
 
 *^And nearly always, as now, we carry a variety 
 of foreign races upon the comfortable upper deck, 
 but below the space is filled with the impover- 
 ished Brazilian-born. ' ' 
 
 *'You are an Amazonense?" Margarita re- 
 minded him, smiling. 
 
 **Yes, I am a native of the river too, but I can- 
 not get it out of my head that we are all adventur- 
 ers, just as much so to-day as when centuries ago 
 brave men came gold-hunting, hunting for this 
 very place to which you are going— -you realize 
 that? Manaos, you know, is named after the 
 Indian tribe for whose Lake Manoa so many men 
 struggled and died, searching vainly. This is the 
 real home of the Dorado! And how many have 
 found their precious gold here!" 
 
 Salvatore thought this promising, and said so, 
 laughing. 
 
 ''Yes, but I cannot resist the impression that 
 we are all rather bold, imposing ourselves upon 
 this immensity of river and forests; and that all 
 that great nature knows well that it can recon- 
 quer again, destroy us, some day." 
 
 Denis interfered. 
 
108 BLACK GOLD 
 
 ''Well, we can all go away. What do we work 
 for, here in the tropics ? Generally, to get enough 
 money to go away." 
 
 '^You don't really mean that, that the forest 
 will blot everything out again? I don't think you 
 do!'' Salvatore remonstrated. ** Surely science 
 has done so much? There isn't any yellow fever 
 now?" 
 
 ''No, but malaria's worse, because if you have 
 yellow fever you either die or get quite well, while 
 if you have malaria you walk about as a living 
 source of infection." 
 
 ''Can't you get rid of it? Screen the houses?" 
 
 *'Up forty thousand miles of waterways? Drain 
 the swamps over hundreds of thousands of square 
 miles ? Impossible. ' ' 
 
 ''I don't mind having fever," declared Denis. 
 *'You know I always get it six or seven times a 
 year, here. I prefer fever to ague or a cold in the 
 nose." 
 
 *'A matter of taste. But in your cold-in-the- 
 head countries you can still bring up families of 
 healthy children. Many of these riverine regions 
 cannot do that. In Para and Manaos, yes. As you 
 know, Senhor Antonelli, there are never any mos- 
 quitoes on the river of black water, so Manaos is 
 always healthy " 
 
 ''That black water makes people bald," an- 
 nounced Denis. "It's not nonsense! — I shan't 
 have any hair left in a year or two." Custodio de 
 Freitas went on, without taking any notice: 
 
 "There are regions of these upper waterways 
 where there is no native population at all. All the 
 children born there die. The normal state of the 
 people is sickness — the forest fights always 
 against them." 
 
BLACK GOLD 109 
 
 "Your conscience seems to be pricking you, 
 Custodio.'' Evaristo spoke slowly. 
 
 *'It is not quite that. As I said at first, I always 
 experience curious sensations whenever I return 
 to the deep interior forests, with our city in the 
 heart of them.'' He reflected and then went on 
 slowly: **When I see such a number of people 
 crowding up the Amazon as during the last few 
 years, my feelings are stirred. I am proud, I am 
 glad, to see our cities decking themselves out, 
 building beautiful palaces and paving their 
 streets. I feel a personal vanity. But I cannot 
 resist the idea that this is all exotic, that every- 
 body is poised for flight . . . Brazilians as much as 
 anyone else; I do not forget that a few years ago 
 Manaos had only ten thousand people and to-day 
 she has sixty thousand.'* 
 
 "Ah, you see us as vultures! Well, we shall 
 stay while there are any pickings, ' ' Denis assured 
 him. "Until something happens to rubber. If a 
 really good synthetic rubber, for instance, were 
 discovered by some meddling chemist ... or if 
 presently the Eastern plantations get into their 
 stride and flood the market. ' ' 
 
 Custodio stirred and flushed, showing emotion. 
 "That need not be considered," he said. "How 
 can an artificial industry like that compete with 
 the native home of the hevea? We have three 
 hundred million untapped trees. It's impossible." 
 Ware moved away quietly. Custodio went on: 
 "Besides, the plantations are known to be a 
 failure. The trees won't yield latex, and if they 
 do it is of inferior quality . . . and then, planted 
 under artificial conditions, disease is sure to 
 attack the trees. They are rotten with red rust 
 already. And apart from that, the plantations are 
 
110 BLACK GOLD 
 
 in the hurricane belt. The whole thing is 
 abnormal — quite impossible. ' ' 
 
 ** Isn't there room for both?" Salvatore sug- 
 gested. 
 
 **The Amazon would be ruined." Custodio de- 
 cided. Evaristo shrugged his shoulders, but Denis 
 protested. *^But I don't think so, really. Middle- 
 men like myself would be hit, but we could go 
 away, as you said yourself. As to the laborers, 
 they would turn to any one of a dozen legitimate 
 industries — ^they could plant foodstuffs, for 
 example. I have often thought that the rubber 
 industry ought to suffer a blow, and then the 
 Amazon would have a chance of becoming sane. 
 Was there ever such an economic situation as we 
 have here to-day?" Evaristo turned unmoved 
 eyes upon the Swiss, a little amused. Denis went 
 on emphatically: **Here are rivers full of fish, 
 enough to feed the world, and nobody but a few 
 Indians take the trouble to catch and dry them, 
 hardly sufficient for the local needs. Here's the 
 richest soil imaginable, and every bean we eat 
 comes in a sack from Portugal. Look at the 
 shelves of the shops! North American flour, 
 French wines, German hardware, Swedish 
 matches, Spanish dried fruit, English cotton cloth. 
 And every one of those things costs ten to twenty 
 times as much as it does in Rio, and fifty times 
 as much as it did at home. Cotton! Think of it! 
 It grows wild all the way from here to Uruguay, 
 and yet on the Amazon we don't weave one yard 
 of cotton cloth . . . **Ruin the rubber industry — 
 sim, senhores!" 
 
 **I wish you would come and make that speech 
 some day before the State Assembly," said Evar- 
 isto gently. **It is highly effective, my friend." 
 
BLACK GOLD 111 
 
 Next day the sun beat down continuously in a 
 golden torrent of steaming heat. Mile after mile 
 of cacao plantations edged the water, massive 
 little trees with mottled trunks from which the 
 orange and crimson pods were suspended, but 
 these again gave way to the darker and deeper 
 forest. Margarita, following Ware to the rail, 
 asked him: ^'How long will it take to subdue all 
 this? All this forest?" ^ 
 
 He answered very seriously: *^ About a million 
 years. Or perhaps the forest will win. Who can 
 telir' 
 
 **It looks so calm and still.'' 
 
 ''Because we are not fighting it. As far as that 
 goes, none of us are really fighting it. We are 
 sitting precariously "on its edges.*' 
 
 '* Wasn't it the same with all other great 
 forests r' 
 
 '* Oh, yes, yes! But this is so much bigger. . . . 
 This is sure to be the very last to go of all the 
 great woodlands of the world . . . the jungles of 
 India and Africa are so much smaller; drier, more 
 tamed. They permit so much more life in their 
 fastnesses. But this Amazonian forest is the 
 strongest, rankest, most overwhelming wild thing 
 left on earth. Look at it!" He threw his hand in 
 a quick gesture towards one bank and the other. 
 
 Washed bright and clear by the rains of the 
 previous day, the sky was of a brilliant burning 
 blue that formed a visible rounded bowl, un- 
 broken by the lightest cloud. Under it lay line 
 after line of the forest walls. 
 
 Closing down from the implacable sky to the 
 edge of the yellow flood of the river, and only 
 relieved in line and color by the palms and liliace- 
 ous plants of the margin, the massed trees stood 
 
112 BLACK GOLD 
 
 thick, npright, of a uniform dark green, the level 
 tops spread in a high meadow of dense verdure. 
 Into the distance the lines of forest traveled 
 serenely, endlessly, taking on shades of pure violet 
 as they retreated and ultimately disappearing in 
 blue, merging with the sky's blue. It did not 
 appear to hide the active world so much as to 
 compose the world, relentlessly, eternally. The 
 sight of it filled the mind with a sense of im- 
 potence, completed by the presence of its river 
 ally, the wide waste of tawny water that seemed 
 to be not a river but a sea, bearing upon its long 
 and heavy waves the signs of its irresistible 
 power. 
 
 Tree trunks uprooted and borne down like 
 twigs, islands of floating grass and weeds, rushed 
 down the turmoil of the middle, where the swollen 
 current ran strong, with ripples and foam-crested 
 waves breaking its surface. Upon the torn spoils 
 of the forest rode a host of birds. At the sides the 
 current was more gentle, moving along in an 
 enormous mass without effort or interruption. 
 
 Not a sound came from the forest: no cry, no 
 song. Not a leaf of its endless succession of mar- 
 shalled trees appeared to move. It showed no sign 
 of harboring any living creature. The only live 
 things to be seen in all that broad water desert 
 were the birds that sat, silent and motionless, 
 upon the tangled masses of weeds floating down 
 the river. 
 
 On the fourth morning after leaving Para the 
 steamer passed the miniature red bluffs that show 
 the way to Manaos, and crossed the line of the 
 black water. 
 
 Now, with the Amazon left behind, to follow 
 its course due westwards, the northwesterly 
 
BLACK GOLD 113 
 
 sweep of the dark Negro began to reveal a series 
 of scenes that were as those of a different world. 
 The tempestuous, familiar rush of the Amazon, 
 noisy and sociable, was exchanged for the silent, 
 almost motionless pressure of the inky flood from 
 the deep eternal forests of the Guianas, stained 
 with long sojourn in those shrouded haunts. 
 
 No more did the little gay bushes and palms of 
 the main river bedeck the banks. Instead, great 
 masses of close-leaved, close-ranked trees stood 
 down to the water's edge, with no break at all 
 but in the sudden open spaces where they re- 
 treated in a body and left green grassy knolls at 
 the margin. 
 
 **At the next turn you will see Manaos," 
 Affonso said as he came to the side of Margarita. 
 She, turning to glance at the deck, saw that her 
 friend Custodio stood silent, his small wrinkled 
 face appearing yellow and more shrunken. Evar- 
 isto da Cunha, too, had momentarily lost his smile. 
 He walked the boards apart, his eyes abstracted. 
 
 **Ah, now you can see the city ..." 
 
 The steamer rounded a little green hill and in- 
 troduced a new scene. Upon a slope that dipped 
 again to the hazy blue-green forest that backed 
 and surrounded it, stood a fantastic medley of 
 brightly colored buildings, intersected by long 
 straight streets crossing at right angles. Patches 
 of light green marked the new city gardens; a 
 brilliant shining dome, yellow and blue and green, 
 caught the eye, and between the pink and white 
 walls of completed houses rose the windowless 
 frames of huge new constructions. In the dazzling 
 light, with a blazing sun high above, a shimmer 
 of the air like an opalescent waving veil gave to 
 the town an added unreality. It appeared as a 
 
114 BLACK GOLD 
 
 mirage of the river. Nor did the shrieking of the 
 electric cars as they descended the hill, or the 
 businesslike sounds from the docks dispel this 
 impression of fantasy, to the mind of Margarita. 
 She saw the little fishing village of fifty years 
 before, dreaming in the forest, only waking for a 
 moment when some wanderer from the outer 
 world came that way; she saw the rise and the 
 new appareling of the oasis in the immense green 
 desert; she saw the stream of gold-lusting men, 
 and the struggle that the ancient gods made to re- 
 pel them — the cruel torturing fevers, the madness 
 that came upon those adventurers. On the upper 
 slant of the hill she could see the white-dotted 
 patch marking the cemetery of which so many 
 tales were told, filled with the bones of those who 
 gambled with the forest and lost. She had a queer 
 feeling that if she shut her eyes tightly for a 
 whole minute and then looked again, the city 
 would have melted away, swallowed by the en- 
 croaching trees, and that she would see only the 
 thatched huts of Indians on the edge of the black 
 water. 
 
 But, trying this childishly, she raised her lashes 
 to encounter the clear look of Ware, his white- 
 clad figure blotting out Manaos. Yes, she was 
 well, she replied to anxious demands; she had 
 just shut her eyes to see — something — ^better. As 
 she spoke she moved to look over his shoulder. 
 It was still there, that cobweb town, then! She 
 experienced a sudden revulsion of emotion, feel- 
 ing her youth rise like a tangible thing, respond- 
 ing to the call of adventure. Who could tell what 
 lay here for them all, this boatload of people with 
 their fortunes in their hands? She was ready. 
 The city was a promise and a challenge. 
 
BLACK GOLD 115 
 
 Loud orchestral strains suddenly rose from be- 
 low. The vessel had edged her way to the side 
 of the wharf, and a little crowd of forty or fifty 
 people stood staring at the upper deck. All were 
 dressed in white and carried umbrellas like leaf- 
 cutting ants. A cheer went up as somebody caught 
 sight of Evaristo, and the city band broke into 
 violent spasms of sound. Evaristo, stepping to 
 the rail, had recovered his perpetual smile and 
 complacence. He took the tribute of the perspir- 
 ing musicians with the serenity of an Oriental 
 potentate. A few minutes later he exchanged a 
 few quick words with Francina, descended the 
 gangway with Madame de Freitas upon his arm, 
 and was carried away in a huge motor car to the 
 plaudits of the little crowd. Custodio, a sardonic 
 smile on his lips, murmured to Ware: 
 
 **I wonder how many of them would like to 
 stick a knife in his back?'' 
 
SALVATOBE quartered his company in a 
 sunny square a short distance north of the 
 harbor, the hotel occupying one corner and the 
 governor's long, low palacio gracing another. The 
 rooms of Margarita and her sister looked out 
 through practicable balconies into this square, 
 gay with red and yellow crotons, big rosy lilies 
 and scarlet hibiscus, and plumed with little palms 
 like green feather dusters. 
 
 They decided that they liked these bare rooms, 
 with no carpets, nothing on the whitewashed 
 walls, and no furniture but the scanty bed, draped 
 with mosquito netting, a tiny wooden table, a 
 chair, and an embryo washstand. It wasn't so 
 frightfully hot, either, with the long windows all 
 wide open, and the cool white walls crossed with 
 blue shadows. 
 
 Downstairs at almogo, the dining room's other 
 guests eyed the newly arrived party with acute 
 but suppressed curiosity. There were no other 
 women present, and the men, all dressed in white 
 linen, laughed and talked a good deal during the 
 long meal. The Italian manager, very suave and 
 alert, hovered about the opera company, served 
 the ladies himself with the long succession of 
 elaborate, highly seasoned dishes, and called their 
 attention with civic pride to the breeze that came 
 in through the open shutters. 
 
 Salvatore, leaving the girls to unpack, had gone 
 up to the theatre at once with Laroche, and, com- 
 ing back covered in perspiration but full of 
 
 116 
 
BLACK GOLD 117 
 
 enthusiasm, talked all the time during lunch. The 
 theatre was the most wonderful sight he had ever 
 seen! The most amazing pale-green marble pil- 
 lars! And the De Angelis paintings! He was sure 
 the railings of the staircase were made of solid 
 gold. Cost five hundred thousand pounds! 
 
 **They simply don^t care about the price of 
 things,'' he said joyfully; ^^did you notice the 
 harbor? Marvelous! And the houses! I saw one 
 to-day that cost four hundred contos; four hun- 
 dred contos of reis! Just think of that!" 
 
 '*It sounds opulent, darling, like a lakh of 
 rupees, but doesn't convey much," his wife as- 
 sured him. *^But don't get too vulgar, talking 
 about money all the time. . . . Get it, by all means, 
 but don't offend our womanly dignity by remind- 
 ing us." He reproached her: **My dear, this is a 
 parvenu city, and what else do you expect a par- 
 venu to discuss but money?" He subsided into 
 rather troubled reflections across the table to Lar- 
 oche — he was afraid the orchestra was going to be 
 weak in the wood wind. What could they do? 
 
 In spite of the beating heat, he took the com- 
 pany up to the theatre after lunch; two or three 
 of the Manaos theatre committee put cars at their 
 disposition, and the girls were all eager. They 
 ran about the theatre with little shrieks of joy, 
 and went through a hasty rehearsal of *^Boheme" 
 light-heartedly. Several important citizens came 
 in during the afternoon, and Salvatore rather 
 grudgingly presented them to his womenfolk. He 
 looked with gloomy suspicion upon the courtesies 
 of two stout and opulent merchants to the pretty 
 chorus, and yielded without grace to requests that 
 they should all be taken while there was still 
 light to see the city and its environs. 
 
118 BLACK GOLD 
 
 Packed into four big automobiles, they followed 
 the line of a tramway — the Flores bond — passing 
 along cool, tree-shaded streets lined with houses 
 built in the Portuguese style, with no concessions 
 to the tropics, but very large and expensive. Most 
 of the smaller ones also were faithful to the Portu- 
 guese box-like building idea, many having tiny 
 narrow fronts but extending a long way back. 
 **Like the shotgun houses of New Orleans,'' Sal- 
 vatore explained. 
 
 **You pay city taxes on the frontage, perhaps?" 
 His Manaos host assented, adding: *'You know 
 these houses are called puchada, because they are 
 pushed back." Salvatore thought that this 
 sounded very simple. 
 
 Eunning farther out, they found themselves on a 
 stretch of high, sandy ground where coarse grass 
 grew under the open sky. It was not unlike Sur- 
 rey, Margarita said, if you didn't see the little 
 squat palmettos, and if you half shut your eyes 
 and said that those low bushes were blackberries. 
 
 Presently, making other turns, the car passed 
 through a heavily hedged lane with cottages 
 where children and chickens ran about flowery 
 gardens, a lane that had a familiar air, except 
 that in the green meadows at the side there grew 
 big, thorny palms with stiff fan leaves, instead 
 of oaks. 
 
 At the end of the car line stood a low, pink- 
 washed, rakish-looking building that declared it- 
 self a restaurant. Their hosts insisted on the party 
 getting out and having a cool drink. Salvatore 
 said a few words aside to the Manaos men, and 
 the look of apprehension on his face was only 
 lifted when the ferociously pink liquid presently 
 served turned out to be harmless; luckily for his 
 
BLACK GOLD 119 
 
 peace of mind, he was quite oblivious to the sub- 
 sequent maneuvers by which Beatriz Sforzi and 
 two of the little Italians were, assiduously plied 
 with champagne. 
 
 The bare, cool room was hung with colored 
 paper streamers and strings of orange-colored 
 grenadillas; the only wall ornaments, a few drink 
 advertisements, depicted ladies of remarkable 
 contours. There were some specially efficacious 
 baths, it appeared, near at hand, to add to the 
 restaurant's attractions. From the end of the car 
 line a bend in the lane ran up hill, red and sandy; 
 they decided that there was nothing tropical 
 about it, save the palms and the umbrella ants. 
 
 They went back just as night fell with an im- 
 mediate blotting out of the landscape, scarcely 
 permitting the sight of the steel bridges over the 
 water inlets to which their hosts pointed with 
 innocent pride. How far Manaos had fetched 
 those bits of steel, and how much they had cost! 
 Fireflies flickered in every scrap of garden, above 
 every hedge. It became dark with a kind of vel- 
 vet, pressing darkness that hemmed in, imposed 
 itself, a tangible thing. Salvatore remarked on it 
 under his breath: ^^I never felt anything just 
 like this! It's the forest; it oppresses you! I 
 really believe all this nature conspires to make 
 people nervous and excited. They live in a state 
 of exaltation, because their feelings are all thrown 
 back on themselves. I'd hate to stay here. All 
 we want is our money, isn't it, girls?" 
 
 He refused to let his company accept invitations 
 to dinner or to spend the evening at a club, mar- 
 shalling them back to the hotel like a hen with a 
 new brood of chickens. He was furious when Bea- 
 triz Sforzi pleaded a headache, stayed upstairs, 
 
120 BLACK GOLD 
 
 and then disappeared from her room, and was not 
 appeased by Francina^s laughter. **My good 
 dragon, I think you are making a mistake. The 
 Sforzi is a cat, of course, but she is also a grown- 
 up woman, and there is really no reason why she 
 shouldn't amuse herself. It's no concern of yours 
 so long as she sings when you want her to." 
 
 '^That's just the trouble. She's going to have 
 her empty head turned, and if I don't keep her 
 locked up she'll be breaking her contract. . . . 
 Make her pay! Good God, suppose she does? 
 "What's a few thousand pounds to me when what 
 I want is live women to walk upon that stage and 
 open their mouths? This trip is going to kill me 
 with anxiety and worry. The only girls out of the 
 whole bunch I'm sure of are you two and Bianca 
 — Bianca 's too darned ugly off the stage, and too 
 lazy anyhow, to give me any trouble, and Mar- 
 garita's a baby. It's lucky you're married to 
 me." 
 
 *^ Lucky?" Francina's brows were raised. 
 
 **Yes, precious girl, so I've got you safe. 
 Pegged down, darling." 
 
 * ' Safe. Pegged down. ' ' She repeated his words 
 listlessly as she sat on the dusky veranda, a 
 cigarette between her fingers. She blew smoke 
 into the night and murmured again: ** Pegged 
 . . ." Her husband, immersed in his problems, 
 went on, grumbling half to himself: 
 
 **The sooner we get to work the better. They 
 all need something to think about before they 
 lose their heads." Laroche joined them, and the 
 two men sat together with pencils and pads, mak- 
 ing notes of the company 's needs, appealing to the 
 women now and again. Laroche had spent most 
 of the day in hunting for local musicians. The 
 
BLACK GOLD 121 
 
 town band, it appeared, could be relied upon for 
 the drums, a couple of horns, and a trombone; 
 comets would do very well in place of trumpets. 
 Altogether, they had not been mistaken in trust- 
 ing to Manaos for their brass, and there were 
 quite a number of decent violins available. The 
 wood wind was a little more dubious. 
 
 **I told you we should be weak,'' Salvatore 
 lamented, **if we didn't bring flutes and oboes. 
 Are you sure that Spaniard is all right with his 
 clarionet? Bah, I don't care a straw for him being 
 a genius. I don't want geniuses. I want a man 
 who can follow the score." 
 
 Laroche had unearthed an excellent 'cellist to 
 supplement the expert brought from Lisbon, and 
 was disposed to a roseate view of things. They 
 decided to follow their original plan and to give 
 * * Carmen, ' ' the classic and inevitable, first, on the 
 following Monday, and to succeed it two nights 
 later with ^ * Boheme. ' ' Next, ^ * Pagliacci ' ' and the 
 '^Cavalleria"; then ^^Bigoletto." ^^ Tosco" to 
 follow; **if we can rig up the battlements in the 
 last act." Perhaps they would present **Trova- 
 tore" in its place. 
 
 The next series could take care of itself. Per- 
 haps by that time the rest of the chorus would be 
 heard of, and they might dare to give the com- 
 pany a few days' rest while Salvatore or Laroche 
 went to Para to meet them. 
 
 Francina, standing up and yawning openly, 
 looked upon the two men, their faces illumined in 
 the hot darkness only by the uncertain glow of 
 their cigars. ** Margarita, go to bed," she com- 
 manded. **Take care of your good looks, so that 
 our lawful owner can make a lot of money out of 
 
122 BLACK GOLD 
 
 Her husband paid no attention to this feminine 
 thrust, smilingly dealt, and she departed, taking 
 her sister by the hand, after a long look into the 
 velvet blackness of the night. The river was a 
 faint glimmering band in the distance; the shrill- 
 ing of cicadas came from the palms below in the 
 gardens of the wide square. A perfume of tropic 
 flowers rose into the heavy air. Here and there 
 could be seen a burst of light, where a night club 
 stood with open doors, and the crash of a piano 
 and a loud song now and again broke the stillness. 
 
 Manaos was and is the only place for spending 
 large quantities of money in all the vast territory 
 of Amazonas, bigger than many a kingdom. To 
 that center came all the rubber gatherers when, 
 at the end of the season ^s toil, they found money in 
 their pockets, to be spent in a week of rioting. 
 Here were grouped all the merchants who traf- 
 ficked in that ouro preto drawn by river paths 
 from areas thousands of miles away, as far as the 
 Peruvian and Bolivian boundaries. Here were the 
 bankers, the owners of stores who found them- 
 selves able to sell anything from a box of matches 
 to a diamond crown when the boom came, the 
 foreign companies who built tramways and docks 
 and breweries and electric light and water plants 
 and marble palaces, and the adventurers to whom 
 the word went out over the world that El Dorado 
 awaited them in the forest. 
 
 Rubber went down the huge river in an endless 
 chain of cargoes, and back came in return more 
 money than Manaos could spend. The little town, 
 seeing herself with millions of revenue where she 
 once had thousands, rose and arrayed herself in 
 finery. Up the yellow Amazon came a stream of 
 gay extravagances, the most silken, the most 
 
BLACK GOLD 123 
 
 sparkling, that money could buy. Drawn from 
 across wide seas, this tide of luxury entered the 
 great valley, passed through a thousand miles of 
 the dark and silent walls of the forest, to cast 
 itself upon the little clearing of Manaos. Accom- 
 panying it came women, from the north, from the 
 south, from Europe and Africa; even smooth- 
 faced, slant-eyed girls from the Orient, made 
 brave by the wide-cast tales of the spendthrift 
 city, but with deadly fear in their hearts of the 
 fever that so often took its revenge upon them. 
 For those who escaped, with their hands full of 
 money, the name of Amazonas must have been a 
 thing to lurk in nightmares, panic fear masked 
 with gold. 
 
 With wealth, the Amazon acquired politics. Or 
 rather, politicians. Now that there was something 
 to govern, Amazonas was compelled to have a 
 government. The system that supervened in the 
 course of a few years was basically simple. All 
 administrative offices, whether of the State of 
 Amazonas or the municipality of Manaos, were in 
 the hands of a limited group of families, arbitra- 
 rily divided into two opposing sections. When 
 one section had had its turn of public office cour- 
 tesy as well as expediency demanded a change, 
 and the second series of families went into office, 
 ringing the changes upon different personalities 
 for the sake of a more decorative effect. 
 
 Towards the end of each term of office there 
 rose, as in every region ruled over by the elected, 
 a constantly increasing volume of grumbling. The 
 native-born vote holders, with the foreign export- 
 ing merchants egging them on when the imposts 
 upon rubber and taxes upon business began to rise 
 to unimagined heights, made outcries against the 
 
124 BLACK GOLD 
 
 insouciant extravagance, the open giaft and 
 intrigue. Their complaints were temporarily 
 allayed by the flashing of new political names 
 before their eyes ; at heart, many of the grumblers 
 were more than a little proud of the city's multi- 
 facetted glories, believing with facility in the 
 eternal luck of the Amazon. 
 
 It was true that there had been recessions cf the 
 tide of big rubber prices. Lean years had more 
 than once supervened since the far-away world 
 began to send its ships for the precious gum. But 
 the Amazonenses preferred to consider these as 
 nothing but periods of pause in which the wave 
 gathered strength — and weren't they justified 
 now, when a pound of **Fine Hard'* brought 
 twelve solid shillings, mounting from a modest 
 two? And then, even in the slump years, there 
 had always been something that helped them out; 
 as, for example, the time when exchange went 
 against Brazil, and the resident merchant, selling 
 rubber and nuts and cocoa abroad for gold, paid 
 the native producer in depreciated paper, and so 
 once more saved his own cherished skin. With 
 kind heaven smiling upon the Amazon, who cared 
 for a little official stealing? 
 
 There was no difference in the platforms of the 
 two political groups. The only burning question 
 was that of just how much added tax the exported 
 rubber would endure: the only problem, that of 
 dividing the proceeds. 
 
 Of late, with over a million pounds of public 
 revenues to spend in a town of thirty or forty 
 thousand people, new uses for public money had 
 to be devised. It is a credit to the imagination 
 of the inhabitants that not only was there a con- 
 stant flow of ideas, but that Manaos also was 
 
BLACK GOLD 125 
 
 struck with the brilliant and quite successful no- 
 tion of going out into the money markets of sym- 
 pathetic France and England, and getting a few 
 more sacksful of gold as loans. The more income 
 you have, the more you want to spend, of course, 
 and the more you spend, the more your friends 
 will lend to you; it was as simple as it was pleas- 
 ant. As to the day of reckoning! If any of the 
 temporary politicians thought of it, he also 
 mentally decided that on that day he would no 
 longer exist in the public eye as an office holder, 
 so why worry? He turned his skill to new chan- 
 nels for cash Sowings instead. 
 
 If, now and again, his methods were a little 
 lacking in artistry, who can blame the forest-bred 
 politician? There was the incident of the new 
 palace of the governor, that beautiful and ex- 
 pensive building, all stone and marble and colored 
 tiles, that took three years to raise — and nearly 
 six months of violent blasting and shoveling to 
 pull down. The new governor, going into office 
 and finding an erection under way that was not 
 altogether to his taste, was supported by quite a 
 number of sympathizers when he decided to have 
 a new one built to his own plans by his own 
 friends; but the opinion of the foreigners was that 
 the thing was rather clumsy. A bank manager was 
 reported to have gone so far as to say: **Some 
 time or other I shouldn't wonder if the Manaos 
 people got a bit vexed, you know.'' 
 
 But while the rafts crept out of the dark forest- 
 hung waterways of the deep inner country laden 
 with their odorous big black balls of rubber, by 
 the hundred, like industrious water beetles; while 
 snorting foreign steamers churned up the great 
 river to take away the ceaseless cargoes, empty- 
 
126 BLACK GOLD 
 
 ing their holds of the silks and pearls and cham- 
 pagne of the east, what was a blown-np palacio 
 more or less? 
 
 At the time when Salvatore's opera company 
 arrived in the city an unusual flutter was proceed- 
 ing in the political dovecotes. Evaristo, to the 
 scandal of Manaos, was hardily departing from 
 the rules of the game. 
 
 He was actually trying to keep his party in 
 power for a second term, or rather to prolong the 
 first unduly by a maneuver which was denounced 
 by the hungry opposite party as indecent. The late 
 governor, nominal head of the Freitas-Cunha- 
 Guimaraes group, had gone into office when the 
 most wonderful period of the rubber boom was 
 dawning. Money came in floods: it wasn't pos- 
 sible to spend it all in Manaos. It burned the gov- 
 ernor's pockets. His eyes turned Paris-wards. Ah, 
 that was the place for a man with a pocket full 
 of money! You could get something for it there! 
 He went, but in the hurry of departure made one 
 serious mistake. 
 
 That unlucky error was the signing of his name 
 to a sheet of blank paper breathlessly presented 
 to him by a perspiring secretary, boarding the 
 steamer just as the gangplank threatened to dis- 
 connect. 
 
 **Your excellency forgot to authorize the ap- 
 pointment of your cousin's wife's brother-in-law 
 to the postmastership of the sandbank above the 
 third cataract! Sign here, and we will fill in the 
 decree above it afterwards." The rash man 
 signed, his eye upon the gangplank, his last smile 
 for his able deputy, Evaristo. 
 
 Some twelve months later, with nearly every 
 franc of his savings spent, preparing sadly to 
 
BLACK GOLD 127 
 
 pack for home, the governor receives a cable from 
 Manaos telling him that he has resigned. And, 
 rushing back to look into this matter, is met at 
 Para with such efficient-looking gunboats that he 
 immediately decides to abandon politics as an 
 active career; decides, in fact, that the climate of 
 Rio must be healthier for unresigned governors 
 than that of the Amazon, and so goes sailing 
 southwards. 
 
 There was still almost a year of the term of 
 office to run. Nobody had the least objection to 
 Evaristo's retention of his deputyship for that 
 unexpired period: that was according to the 
 rules. It belonged to his gang. But that poli- 
 tician, with an auriferous year behind him, did 
 not seem to be satisfied with the vision of his pres- 
 ently approaching retirement. He made a bold 
 move. Remaining always a little in the back- 
 ground, never trying to obtain the sceptre defi- 
 nitely and openly for himself, he induced his 
 party to announce new elections upon the occa- 
 sion of the governor's resignation, put forward 
 another figurehead of the clique as a candidate, 
 and practically challenged the second series of 
 families to a genuine fight. 
 
 The good feeling of Manaos was outraged. This 
 was shameless! Had they not played the game? 
 Had they said anything, anything much, about 
 the late governor's trip to Paris? Had they said 
 anything, anything unreasonable, about Evar- 
 isto's conduct of the deputyship? They had not, 
 except so far as it was necessary to prove their 
 own high-mindedness to the public, a little thea- 
 tre play that every intelligent person understood. 
 They had played the game, and it was a serious 
 grief to them to discover that Evaristo da Cunha 
 
128 BLACK GOLD . 
 
 was issuing a genuine challenge to them. They 
 prepared to resist : marshalled their forces. If the 
 Freitas-Guimaraes-Cunha family thought that 
 they owned Manaos, they had yet to learn that the 
 Souza-Queiroz cousins had something to say. 
 
 The three chief local clubs buzzed with gossip. 
 Nor were foreigners without interest in the situa- 
 tion, for the peace and the external and internal 
 credit of the State affected the merchants and 
 bankers. Many eyebrows frowned and many anxi- 
 ous fingers wagged above coffee cups and tall 
 glasses at tables set in the three famous cafes or 
 on the shady side of the pavements. The name 
 of Evaristo ran from mouth to mouth. He, cool, 
 sardonic, taking his own way quietly, was per- 
 haps the least perturbed man in the city. 
 
 Quite probably, the fact that the date of the 
 opera company's arrival coincided with the prep- 
 arations for his political coup was not acci- 
 dental. Evaristo knew his city. Vain and pleasure- 
 loving, it might be at least a little distracted 
 from such dull matters as the choosing of public 
 officials by a few weeks of concentrated entertain- 
 ment. He may have reckoned on this as one of 
 the weapons in his complicated armory. 
 
 But, if this agreeable influence of the theatre 
 entered into Evaristo 's calculations, there was 
 one item of which he had not been aware, upon 
 whose potency he had not reckoned. He had not 
 foreseen Francina. 
 
ON a clear morning just before six o'clock, 
 with the air so transparent that the gaily 
 colored houses, the bright flowers and shining 
 leaves of the gardens looked as if they were just 
 new, Margarita and Francina, escorted by John 
 Ware and Evaristo da Cunha, trotted their rather 
 scraggy horses along the stone pavements of 
 Manaos. From the hotel door they went for a 
 brief turn about the town, passing houses that 
 had already begun to stir and to open their 
 wooden shutters; cafes and bars and shops 
 crowded with piles of cottons and hammocks; 
 warehouses with wide doors where mounds of 
 black rubber balls waited entry, alertly guarded; 
 the Bolsa Universal, where yawning waiters 
 righted the little tables and set out tiny cups of 
 steaming coffee before their first unshaven pa- 
 trons, waiting for the bond to take them to work, 
 As they turned north to leave the city Evaristo, 
 riding with Francina, pointed out, smiling, the 
 glossy blue and white patterned tiles that faced 
 many of the houses : 
 
 ^^ Behold a source of city revenue! In more 
 than one region, senhora! How? Well, imagine 
 that a prefect of aesthetic taste is in power: he 
 orders us all to face our houses with tiles under 
 penalty of a fine — badly needed by the municipal- 
 ity. His successor — ^myself, for example — has a 
 different idea. He finds tiles insanitary, unsightly, 
 extravagant — ^who knows? He decrees that all 
 citizens shall strip their houses of these ornaments 
 
 129 
 
130 BLACK GOLD 
 
 under penalty of a much larger fine. Ai, but when 
 one is a prefeito, and for so few of these golden 
 official years, what brains one needs! It is so 
 necessary to set aside a few modest contos for 
 one's family. . ." 
 
 They had turned into a broad open street that 
 rose up hill. Ascending it, they saw upon the left 
 hand the railings of a cemetery. It was very 
 thickly inhabited. Eows and rows of dead, some 
 with nothing but mounds over them, crowned by 
 wooden crosses; some with elaborate marble 
 monuments; others surmounted with little up- 
 right narrow houses, encasing relics of the dead. 
 
 Evaristo checked his horse, and Francina 
 stopped beside him, looking with light curiosity 
 at his unusually serious face. Eegarding the 
 graves, he said, as Margarita and John passed and 
 went ahead: 
 
 *^Here you see part of the toll that the forest 
 has taken. Most of the dead who lie here did not 
 die of the common ailments that attack a number 
 of the weakly in every city and hamlet of the 
 globe. This is a special harvest of the old reaper's, 
 taken greedily; many of them were strong young 
 men who came here after the name of Manaos 
 began to be known in the markets of the world. 
 Almost all who lie here died of yellow fever. Died 
 like that" — he snapped thin fingers. *VThey fell 
 sick one day and were buried the next. Many of 
 them have I helped to carry up thxS hill." 
 
 He turned in the saddle and looked down. '*That 
 was years ago, of course. There is no yellow fever 
 now — no excuse exists for any city to harbor it 
 any more. But fifteen or twenty years ago every 
 man who came here, his veins full of fresh blood, 
 unacclimated, faced the chance of quick death. 
 
BLACK GOLD 131 
 
 They came to conquer the forest and the forest 
 conquered them. I see them coming up that hill 
 in a long procession of youth, a succession of hu- 
 man sacrifices — to what Godf The God of Com- 
 merce? No. It would be a little theatrical to say 
 that; they came willingly, perhaps spurred by a 
 desire for adventure, as all courageous youth goes 
 afield. There are no crusades, so they come to 
 counting houses.'' 
 
 They rode on in silence. The cemetery appeared 
 to be at the top of a sandy hill, with the ground 
 falling away on either hand, for now, continuing 
 in the same direction, they soon began to descend. 
 The street-car line beside whose rails they had 
 ridden as far as the graveyard, turned away to 
 the right across the top of the town; houses grew 
 less on the straight road that the riders followed. 
 For a short distance fairly ambitious new erec- 
 tions stood at the road's border on the left hand, 
 but these ended abruptly with a final new build- 
 ing — a considerable structure, a private house 
 with a square tower. He pointed it out, and said 
 with his cool smile: 
 
 ** That's where I live, where we make all our 
 political plots. ' ' 
 
 The road before them was wide and sunny, 
 shaded by four rows of thick trees, most of them 
 handsome Indian laurels with glossy leaves. Down 
 the middle between a closely growing avenue of 
 these trees ran a broad paved path of cement 
 blocks. On either side of this shaded central walk 
 was a sunny road, margined by sparser trees; on 
 the left were open fields; on the right a miniature 
 red clay cliff had been left by the leveling of the 
 highway. On the top of this bank stood a gay 
 little assortment of home-made cottages, built of 
 
132 BLACK GOLD 
 
 almost anything, one supposed, that the owner 
 could find. Some of them were neat, with color- 
 washed walls, and others displayed an ingenious 
 patchwork of stray bits of board, flattened-out 
 oil cans and scraps of sheet iron, the roofs helped 
 out with palm leaves. 
 
 These little dwellings on the town's fringe, 
 squatters without rights but with many privi- 
 leges, grew more rakish and scrappy as the road 
 drew onwards. All were embowered in pink and 
 blue flowering vines, sheltered and backed by 
 bananas, mangoes, hibiscus bushes, oranges — a 
 tangle of growing things. Little steps, cut in the 
 tiny clay cliff, protected by scraps of wood, led to 
 these airy bohemian apartments. Children's 
 voices sounded and small naked brown bodies 
 leaned from among the bushes. 
 
 The road ran down in a wide slope and imme- 
 diately began rising again to a crest against the 
 sky. As the riders walked their horses leisurely 
 down the incline, Evaristo spoke again, recurring 
 to the thought of the cemetery : 
 
 '*We often buried them in pouring rain. Before 
 the tramway was built, and before we had any 
 carriages or automobiles, we had money, lots of 
 money, especially when the rubber booms came 
 along from time to time. But we had not what 
 you could call the conveniences of life. When one 
 of our friends or employees died we had to find 
 ten men to carry him, and it was considered a 
 point of honor not to hire helpers — even if they 
 could have been readily found. . . . Four men 
 carried the coffin, with another four to take the 
 burden in turn when the hill exhausted the first 
 carriers. Two other men carried chairs. It was 
 customary to make a halt halfway up,'rest the coffin 
 
BLACK GOLD 133 
 
 on the two chairs, and drink a bottle of cachaga. 
 When we reached the grave, it was often found 
 not to be long enough, and we had to take a spade 
 and dig in the rain. Sometimes there was no priest 
 . . . we read a few words ourselves.'' 
 
 She looked at him with such wide eyes that he 
 smiled. ^^ Don't think of this time as being all 
 gloomy. When you become familiar with death 
 it is not sad or terrible, and indeed if death were 
 to be dwelt upon under such conditions the sur- 
 vivors would find life insupportable. No. It was 
 taken very lightly. Especially, I think, by the for- 
 eigners. They used to say to each other, meeting 
 a man returned from the interior: * What, are you 
 still alive?' as if it were a great joke. When a 
 man was dying of fever it was thought neighborly 
 of all his friends to go and sit with him; often 
 they could do nothing to help him, but they would 
 stay and while away the time with laughter and 
 card playing until he died. Of what use to do any- 
 thing else?" 
 
 ** Women — died too?" she asked him. 
 
 '^ There were none, senhora. Of the strangers, 
 I mean. And of the country, not so very many, 
 either. Except the families who had been long in 
 the region and become immune." 
 
 They had reached the crest of the hill. A little 
 water tower stood in a recess in the red bank, level 
 with the last electric-light post; all the cottages 
 had been left behind. Looking forward, to the 
 north, they saw a boundless sea of green. Deep, 
 dark-green tree tops swept away in long waves in 
 front and on either hand, emerald in the nearest 
 flood, tinged with violet as the long lines re- 
 treated, and swallowed up at last in a haze of 
 purple-blue that met the paler hue of the sky. 
 
134 BLACK GOLD 
 
 **Now you see a little, a few miles only, a very 
 little indeed, of the forest that encloses us. Look 
 at it — who can resist or counter itT' 
 
 They cantered forward, following the two other 
 riders along the sunny red road, past a little path 
 that led down to the creek, the igarape, that lay 
 along the western edge of the city; as they entered 
 the first trees of the bordering forest, the Bra- 
 zilian looked at Francina's pretty face and 
 changed his tone : 
 
 *^I have told you too many sad things!" 
 
 ''I needn't listen if I don't want to! But now 
 tell me something amusing?" 
 
 * ^ Something that has nothing to do with griefs 1 
 Yes! Women as lovely as you should always 
 smile! I wonder what would make you smile at 
 me?" 
 
 ^^I am laughing at you now," she responded im- 
 pudently, showing all her little white teeth. He 
 stared at her until she, perfectly enjoying herself, 
 reminded him: **I am waiting for your amusing 
 story, Senhor da Cunha." 
 
 He took a dramatic long breath and gave his 
 horse the spur. "When he had quieted him again, 
 he said in a low, intentionally agitated voice: 
 ** Forgive me. But it is your fault. You are a mad- 
 dening woman." Francina stooped to adjust her 
 stirrup, to hide a giggle. He began to speak 
 lightly: 
 
 *^You ought to know the story of our theatre, 
 since you are to sing in it. And then, if this pre- 
 cious erection were nearly to fall upon your ador- 
 able head — not quite, because I should fly to your 
 rescue — ^you could never say that I had not 
 warned you. . . . Let us take this path, there is 
 more shade. 
 
BLACK GOLD 135 
 
 *'Once upon a time, as the senhora knows, 
 Manaos was nothing but a little trading point, the 
 remnant of a Portuguese fort, an Indian fishing 
 village, a place where they collected dried fish 
 and sarsaparilla; here it was, a cluster of huts 
 upon a red hill, shut in by the black water and 
 the forest, and naturally there were no amuse- 
 ments. Even after we began to make money when 
 some obliging person over in Europe found out 
 what rubber was, our joys were for a long time 
 only those of children of nature — that is, we only 
 drank and gambled. . . . But when we became con- 
 vinced that to possess much money was our 
 normal state as the good God intended it, our 
 souls commenced to long for a little more diver- 
 sion,'' 
 
 She interrupted him: ** What's that queer 
 noise?" 
 
 '*A bird only ... do I bore you?" 
 
 ** Indeed, no! I am dying with curiosity I Nat- 
 urally, your amusements and solaces are of 
 extreme interest ..." He glanced at her a little 
 suspiciously before he went on: 
 
 ^*I remember very well the first troupe that 
 ever arrived at our water gates. They were Spani- 
 ards who had been playing all over South Amer- 
 ica. There were two men and a woman. One man 
 played the violin and the other did acrobatic and 
 conjuring tricks, and the woman assisted with 
 the guinea pigs and the silk hat and paper flags, 
 and so on. As a culmination of their misdeeds 
 they all sang. ... It was a very bad performance, 
 and the lady was about forty-seven years old; 
 she had never been a Helen, in her best day. Prob- 
 ably you do not know that it is said that those 
 amiable ladies who are so good as to visit these 
 
136 ^ BLACK GOLD 
 
 mundos do Chrisiq of the South American East 
 Coast, to bestow tnei^r foreign smiles upon us un- 
 worthy ones, always'^^ile first at Buenos Aires. 
 I, as a loyal and proud Brazilian, believe this to be 
 jintrue. I am firmly of the opinion that Sao Paulo 
 is the favored spot. Or perhaps Rio . . . the 
 coffee crops, you know.'' He meditated for a 
 moment. 
 
 ''However that may be, they say that when the 
 freshness of the smile fades a little with much ex- 
 ercise, Bahia and Pernambuco are the next to 
 bask. And when a certain trace of crows 'feet or 
 increasing stoutness is reflected by the too-candid 
 mirror, travel is resumed slowly northward . . . 
 to Para. And when fickle Para is no longer 
 grateful, then the journey up the Amazon, where 
 nothing feminine was ever refused an ecstatic 
 welcome. ' ' 
 
 At her signal they turned the horses and began 
 to retrace their way. 
 
 ''So it was with the lady juggler. Our theatre 
 at that time was a kind of barn. It had begun life 
 as a warehouse for rubber. There was only one 
 floor, and the elite in the boxes were divided from 
 the rest of the audience by upright pieces of sheet 
 iron. When the people wanted to signify their 
 approval of any act, they kicked the iron. They 
 were a little exuberant. I am sure you understand, 
 senhora. Your audiences will not conduct them- 
 selves like that to-day. . . . They threw things, 
 too, money and bonbons and other tokens. They 
 did not mean any harm at all, but a notice had to 
 be put up: 'Please do not throw anything that is 
 likely to injure the performers.' " 
 
 "It must have been something like a California 
 mining camp in the gold rush last century?" 
 
BLACK GOLD 137 
 
 **Yes. Perhaps our excitable people were even 
 more excitable than the Californians, because 
 there was not, among the foreigners at least, any 
 nucleus of a population that meant to settle down 
 and stay. They were all infected with the idea 
 that they were here just for a moment to make a 
 lot of money, and that they would get it and go — 
 if the yellow fever didn't get them first." 
 
 '^And the jugglers f 
 
 **Alas! They gave but one performance. For 
 the audience fell in love with the lady, and she 
 smiled agreeably upon them, and presently when 
 some of the men in the boxes made a good deal 
 of noise and started a quarrel with the two Span- 
 ish principals, quite a scene was created. It ended 
 by a group of the audience climbing up on to the 
 stage and beating the Spaniards, while the lady 
 was spirited away, to safety, no doubt, by some- 
 body else. Ah, those were enthusiastic days! But 
 please believe me, no Brazilians were concerned 
 in all this — the high spirits of the foreigners, 
 senhora. ' ' 
 
 **Why do you insist upon thatT' she asked him 
 blandly. *'Are you trying to assure me that my 
 — my chorus — is quite safe?" 
 
 He bent fathomless eyes on her. ''If I knew 
 what you meant by 'safe' . . ." he murmured. 
 '^But as to my jugglers — how strangely fate turns 
 the tables! For can you believe that presently 
 many charming ladies deigned to ascend the river, 
 and actually contended for our society. What 
 bliss! I remember a case when a delicious little 
 dancer looked from the stage too sweetly at one 
 of our wealthy merchants for the content of the 
 lady by his side, and she, rising in her injured 
 dignity, marched on to the stage and slapped the 
 
138 BLACK GOLD 
 
 dancer's face. . . . Ebullitions of youth! These 
 things do not happen now! 
 
 **I think that we attained to more dignity when 
 our theatre was built. "We put on more reserved 
 manners, to suit the splendor. When it was 
 opened and the order went forth that everyone 
 was to wear evening dress there really was a wild 
 hunt all over the town for fragments of those gar- 
 ments. I know of three friends who shared such 
 a suit, and got into the performance over the pro- 
 tests of the doorkeeper. But it's a long time ago 
 since every citizen who wears a coat at all be- 
 came the possessor of an imported suit of correct 
 evening clothes. We may live next door to the 
 forest, but there is nothing that a ship can carry 
 that we are not prepared to pay for, and we want 
 everyone to know it.'' 
 
 They walked their horses under dark-green 
 arches, through which the light came in bright 
 patches; there was no sound at all in the forest 
 but the faint humming of insects. 
 
 **Tell me about the theatre!" 
 
 ** Indeed, I must tell you! It is unmatched! It 
 is delicious! I know that no other theatre in the 
 world has such a story. . . . Determining that we 
 must have a fine theatre to agree with our new 
 wealth, we chose a magnificent plan for it. Our 
 theatres have to serve for receptions and balls, as 
 well as for stage performances, so we agreed with 
 an expensive architect upon a scheme that gave 
 us the sumptuous rooms and galleries that 
 you have seen. And since money was no object, 
 we decided to carry it out with exquisite marbles 
 and metal work, paintings and panels and so on. 
 
 *^The materials must have come from half the 
 globe. As we were in a hurry to see it go up, it 
 
BLACK GOLD 139 
 
 was thought best to build it of reinforced con- 
 crete, and we sent to Belgium for the structural 
 steel. Belgians, as you may know, senhora, are 
 the best steel workers in the world. But they have 
 the fault of being careful with all that they do. 
 You cannot hurry them. So it happened presently 
 that here we were in Manaos, staring at barrels of 
 cement, blocks of lovely marble, beautiful pieces 
 of wrought iron and so on; it began to accumulate 
 in piles; the site for the theatre was leveled and 
 prepared, and there we were waiting. And no 
 steel came along to raise all this seductive mate- 
 rial to life. We became a little impatient. We 
 regarded those fascinating barrels and crates and 
 packing cases with longing. 
 
 '*At last one day gangs of workmen were to be 
 seen, busy on the space where the theatre stands 
 to-day. Under the direction of a local contractor, 
 the cement was being mixed and put into moulds. 
 In another day or two the walls were going up. 
 You see, we had the beautiful plans, with all the 
 measurements, and we made up our minds to 
 build the walls, leaving a hollow space between 
 the outer and the inner layers, so that the steel 
 framework could be dropped in when it came at 
 last. Everybody was enchanted! Our theatre rose 
 daily, before our eyes. 
 
 **When the walls were more than half their 
 present height, a steamer came up the river with 
 the Belgian engineer and his structural steel on 
 board. . . . What did he say"? What did he say? 
 Madame, I assure you, I never saw a man with 
 quite so much expression on his face as that engi- 
 neer when he saw our theatre. I remember that 
 he said 'Mon Dieu!' many times, like a machine 
 gun. He had an assistant with him, and these two 
 
140 BLACK GOLD 
 
 •went, without even stopping to eat or drink, or 
 change their clothes, or even to speak civilly to 
 the Manaos reception committee, and took their 
 instruments and measured our handsome walls. 
 He came into my office, perspiring terribly, and 
 said to us: *You will have to pull it down.' 
 
 ** We told him at once that we should do no such 
 thing. * You put your steel framework in the nice 
 little spaces we have left for you,' we said. 
 
 ** ^That is an excellent idea,' he said. *But your 
 builder has been somewhat too generous in his 
 ideas. Your theatre is several metres longer and 
 broader than it should be. My steel framework 
 does not fit this erection.' 
 
 ** *My dear engineer,' we said, *that is your 
 business. You make it fit. Stretch it or some- 
 thing!' " 
 
 ** * Impossible,' he said. *A11 the angles are 
 wrong. Your theatre must come down.' ... Do 
 you think we were going to tear down that beau- 
 tiful building, the pride of Manaos? Never! We 
 told him so. We begged, commanded, implored; 
 we tried to bribe him. No, he wouldn't. At last 
 he began to talk of the damage to his professional 
 reputation. When a man does that, you know he 
 is weakening. We realized that it was only a ques- 
 tion of how many contos of reis it would take to 
 repair the damage: and in the end he listened to 
 reason. He opened the angles and patched it up. 
 But I don't think the work was ever quite the 
 same — you will notice a few cracks. . . . And the 
 fact is that two other things happened to weaken 
 those unfortunate walls of ours. ' 
 
 **Did you see the dome? Yes? That was not 
 our dome originally. No. It was ordered from 
 Holland for Sao Paulo. They are really lovely 
 
BLACK GOLD 141 
 
 Dutch tiles. But when Sao Paulo saw it, they 
 didn't like it, and they said they would not have 
 it. They were just about to ship it back to Am- 
 sterdam when Manaos happened to hear of it. We 
 sent a cable without losing a minute, telling them 
 not to send it back. We would take that dome. 
 We were, in fact, in the market for almost any- 
 jbhing so long as it cost enough. ' ' 
 
 *^ It is a wonderful dome,'' she said. *^You can 
 see it for miles." 
 
 ** Unhappily it is rather heavy, and it may have 
 helped to crack the walls. There is a fine golden 
 statue standing down in the gardens that we 
 meant to put on the top of that theatre too, but 
 that seemed courting trouble, after we saw the 
 cracks. And then there was another thing. We ar- 
 ranged to have a splendid modern scientific fire- 
 extinguishing system, and you can see the lines 
 of pipes and sprays all through the interior; but 
 it isn't in working order, because we don't dare to 
 fill the water tanks on the roof. If we did, it 
 would be the last straw. 
 
 ** Nobody cared! We had our brand-new the- 
 atre, and when it was opened we went in swarms, 
 despite the cracks and the prophecies of the timid 
 who said it would fall on us. And as you see, it 
 still stands, perhaps in not such bad condition, 
 after all. From here you can see it." 
 
 They checked their horses upon the ridge of 
 the road that fell away and then rose again to the 
 city; red roofs shone in the sunlight, the brilliant 
 dome heaving from among them with its blue and 
 yellow and green. Margarita and Ware cantered 
 up behind them. 
 
 These two had scarcely exchanged a hundred 
 words during the ride. They rode far along the 
 
142 BLACK GOLD 
 
 direct, broader forest path, she enchanted with 
 the sun-flecked tunnel of green, the butterflies and 
 strange plants; he, plainly preoccupied. As they 
 returned he showed her a little track that ran off 
 at right angles to the west; a tall buttressed tree 
 at the corner of it was heavily notched some four 
 feet from the ground. 
 
 **Down this path, about half a mile, you reach 
 one of the black creeks that run up through the 
 city," he said. **I keep my own motor boat there 
 — ^it 's not quite such a handy place as a spot lower 
 down would be, but I have my own reasons. ' ' She 
 turned her horse 's nose to the little trail. 
 
 **It looks very mysterious,'' she informed him. 
 **I am inclined to explore it.'' 
 
 **Well, it's very narrow, covered with grass 
 and weeds; hardly a path at all. But you'd find 
 Vicente and the Boto at the end. He's getting her 
 into shape for a trip to the plantation up the 
 Negro, you know, that I'm interested in . . . 
 Boto? It means a sort of bewitched creature that 
 lives in the water . . . the Indians have quite a 
 few tales." 
 
 ''You're not going to stay in Manaos for our 
 first performance?" she cried, reproachful, and 
 he answered her soberly: ''Miss Channing, I had 
 better get away. I am very busy. And you — ^you 
 have your friends. ' ' He looked at her with close- 
 lipped and desperate tenderness and, moving his 
 horse on, added quickly, "Exploring down my 
 paths is rather dark and thorny work — ^I won't 
 encourage you. You might be sorry. You belong 
 in the sunshine." 
 
 When they rejoined the others and presently 
 came again upon the head of the broad road that 
 led into the heart of the city, the cemetery within 
 
BLACK GOLD . 143 
 
 its railings at their right hand, Ware made his 
 farewells to Francina and her sister. 
 
 ''If you will excuse me — I have to make a call 
 before breakfast.'' 
 
 Francina, frankly inquisitive, demanded: 
 ''Upon whom, at this hour? "Why, it isn't nine 
 o'clock." 
 
 "Luisinha and the babies. I needn't stand upon 
 ceremony with them, and I have some little par- 
 cels here to give them. I haven't much time — I 
 am leaving to-night for the seringal up river. ' ' 
 
 "I think you have a soft spot in your hard Eng- 
 lish heart for that little fair girl," declared Fran- 
 cina idly, and he answered at once, '^Indeed I 
 have; there's a special reason for it." She eyed 
 him rather oddly, remaining a trifle thoughtful as 
 the three trotted back to the hotel. 
 
 Riotous sounds greeted them as they dis- 
 mounted. Salvatore, thumping a piano of ancient 
 if dishonorable lineage, was dragging the scanty 
 chorus through the gypsy song from "Carmen." 
 Francina was taken with a sudden spasm of 
 laughter, and said lightly to Evaristo as he bowed 
 his adieu: "What do you think of my energetic 
 husband ? " To which he replied under his breath : 
 *'I do not think about your husband." 
 
 They went in to a wild accompaniment. 
 
xn 
 
 IN the stifling heat of high noon, Margarita sat 
 and wrote steadily. She had pushed the one 
 little crazy table in her bedroom close to the open 
 shutters giving upon the balcony, and looked 
 through the railings whenever she raised her head 
 to the motionless palms and scarlet flowers in the 
 garden of the square below. 
 
 Francina, listless with the heat, could be de- 
 pended upon to neglect every mail. Salvatore, 
 with a rising temperature and consequent moodi- 
 ness, was trying to sleep off a big dose of quinine. 
 So Margarita, thinking of the Sansoe postman 
 waited for along a moorland path, dipped a 
 rusty pen in watery ink and turned her page. 
 
 "■^We are apparently going to have a succes fou, 
 and you will never again tear us from the stage. 
 We gave our first performance last night. I didn't 
 sing, but occupied a box, wearing my silvery dress 
 and trying to look like a distinguished part of the 
 audience. But I had to keep jumping up and run- 
 ning to the dressing rooms to peep at Bianca and 
 Beatriz and Francina, and to the flies to stare at 
 the stage, listening to bits that I could really have 
 heard much better from the box. It was lovely! 
 We gave * * Carmen, ' ' and Beatriz looked beautiful, 
 but it was Francina who got the most applause 
 because she sang deliciously and was as fair as 
 an angel among so many brunette complexions. 
 The men were all very good, but nobody took the 
 least notice of them. The audience was nearly all 
 
 144 
 
BLACK GOLD 145 
 
 Manaos merchants and politicians, with so few 
 wives that you could count them on your hands. 
 We had to rake the city for a decent band of gyp- 
 sies, and some of them got stage struck and were 
 left in front of the curtain — the audience ap- 
 plauded rapturously. 
 
 ** Everybody is tremendously kind to our com- 
 pany's shortcomings. Nobody smiled when Bea- 
 triz cracked on her top notes — ^you know she 
 always does when she's excited. The whole city 
 seem to take a paternal interest in us and wants 
 to invite us out. When we were patching up the 
 scenery for days after we arrived, half Manaos 
 came to help us. Salvie locks the doors during re- 
 hearsals now, only he daren't shut out the million- 
 aires. The theatre is lovely when it is lighted up, 
 but Francie says she has to keep her eyes away 
 from the startling row of celebrities' portraits 
 hung in mid-air below the balcony. Heaps and 
 heaps of flowers were sent to us, but, alas! they 
 are nothing but shrivelled brown rags in an hour 
 or two. These tropical flowers don't last like our 
 sturdy roses at Sansoe. 
 
 *^We are to give 'Boheme' next, and I am to 
 make my debut. Of course I pretend to be nerv- 
 ous, just so as to make as much sensation as 
 Beatriz, who always faints and has hysterics be- 
 fore she goes into action. But I am not a bit 
 nervous really. I can't get it out of my head that 
 everyone is friendly, that they are going to treat 
 me with indulgence, and that it is all a big joke. 
 I think the atmosphere of the place has something 
 to do with this feeling; it is exciting, and you're 
 always on tiptoe for strange experiences. I feel 
 rather blank when things turn out to be quite 
 commonplace. The stage seems to be set all the 
 
146 BLACK GOLD 
 
 time for something breathless, and it is no more 
 exciting to walk upon the theatre 's board than to 
 step out on this balcony in front of my little table, 
 to see a load of big black balls of rubber passing, 
 and a little way behind them a gaunt, ragged, 
 drooping family from the drought country." 
 
 Eeading over this last paragraph, Margarita 
 tore up the page. No, that was not the sort of 
 thing to write to Sansoe. She re-took her tale 
 upon a different theme. 
 
 **We are havmg a delightful time, as far as Sal- 
 vatore will let us, but he is very tyrannical! The 
 seductions of the most courtly men are frowned 
 upon, much to our grief; and the only invitations 
 we are permitted by our ogre to accept are fam- 
 ily parties and morning rides. Meanwhile we are 
 all quite well and the weather isn't nearly so hot 
 as you'd think. I assure you that the Amazon is 
 maligned. There aren't any mosquitoes. I ride 
 every morning with some of our friends, often on 
 open sandy country that might be Surrey — actu- 
 ally, I have seen sheep! Rather disappointingly 
 tame animals, when you are hoping for boa-con- 
 strictors and tigers. 
 
 ** Yesterday our good Madame de Freitas in- 
 vited us to a family gathering. We went in great 
 state, our magnificent motor car taking us first 
 for a drive through streets full of thick shade 
 trees, very sunny and with awfully blue shadows. 
 All the houses are washed with pale colors so that 
 everything has a bright pearly look. We came at 
 last to the outskirts of the town and stopped be- 
 fore a high white wall with showers of bright 
 purple bougainvillea falling over it. A huge green 
 door, solid enough to keep out a besieging force, 
 flew open, and bowing wonderfully stood our 
 
BLACK GOLD 147 
 
 friend Custodio. We went indoors and here was a 
 tremendous array of people, crowds of people, 
 babies, small mites toddling about, little thin 
 girls and thick fat boys, and a hovering flock of 
 slim youths in their teens; and lots of quite beau- 
 tiful young girls with creamy skins and great 
 dark eyes. 
 
 ''In chairs all round the room sat serene ma- 
 trons, every one of them handsome and contented 
 looking and queenly. Several men came in later; 
 you could really divide them into two chief types 
 — big, rather stout full-faced ones, and the thin, 
 small bird-like kind who often have rather large 
 heads, and who always say something interesting 
 when they talk. Our Custodio is one of these. 
 They seem to be very acute, a little pessimistic, 
 and they stand off and regard themselves, their 
 neighbors, the Amazon and Brazil, and all sorts 
 of international affairs ironically. I have never in 
 my life heard people — not even Mrs. Grenville — 
 make such withering — no, blasting — surveys of 
 their own environment. I have a kind of instinct 
 never to agree with them, though. 
 
 ''We soon found out that all this enormous 
 crowd of people belonged to the house; they were 
 either of the Freitas or Guimaraes or Cunha fam- 
 ilies. I can't believe that they all lived in that 
 house, because there were certainly between 
 twenty and thirty of them; but if they don't all 
 sleep there, they seem to run in and out of each 
 other's homes all the time. I do not wonder now 
 that the women, the real Portuguese and Brazilian 
 women, don 't go out much. If they want diversion 
 and social life all they have to do is to stay at 
 home. There are all kinds of exciting things to see 
 and discuss without ever going outside the garden 
 
148 BLACK GOLD 
 
 walls. Just think, Mesdames de Freitas had eleven 
 children, and all of them are alive but one, who was 
 killed by Indians in the forest of Matto Grosso 
 when he was putting up a telegraph line. Some of 
 them are in Para and two daughters are in a con- 
 vent, but quite a lot of them are here, married, 
 with heaps of children of their own, and some of 
 those are married, too. A couple of the babies are 
 madame's great-grandchildren, and she is only 
 sixty, although she might be any age. Her face is 
 all covered with wrinkles, out of which a wonder- 
 ful smile comes; she has bright big eyes and wavy 
 black hair with only a few gray threads. 
 
 '^They all seem to like each other very much. 
 One of the daughters-in-law is French, and 
 came straight to the bosom of this family when 
 she married. She said to me that the only thing 
 that bothered her was that none of her sisters-in- 
 law ever had a cross word with each other; it was 
 rather dull for her. The funny thing is that while 
 all the children are adored, they don't seem spoilt, 
 and it is delicious to see them half kneel and kiss 
 the hands of the grown-up people whenever they 
 go in or out. I shall teach Brooke these nice man- 
 ners when I come home. 
 
 '^"We had an immense quantity of things to eat, 
 served on an enormously long table that nearly 
 filled the big airy room, with windows opening on 
 to a garden full of palms and tuberoses and flow- 
 ering creepers. We had soup made with black 
 beans, a fish cooked whole (a tremendous crea- 
 ture), and served with red pepper sauce and herbs 
 that tasted very good, chicken done with yellow 
 rice, and then a feijoada — this was the piece de 
 resistance! It was stupendous! At that stage I 
 couldn't eat very much unfortunately, but I was 
 
BLACK GOLD 149 
 
 able to understand its possibilities. Everyone 
 seemed pleased to tell us how everything was 
 cooked — it isn't bad manners to comment on the 
 food, or at least, they said it wasn't when we 
 asked them. But perhaps that was just their good 
 manners again! You put came seccay tongue, 
 ham, chicken into a thick stew of black beans; 
 you serve it with a heap of farinha de mandioca, 
 very much like sawdust to look at, and somebody 
 peels an orange for you and you stir it all up and 
 eat steadily for about a week, with some green 
 stuff called cova. 
 
 '^Next, sweets — doceSy made with fresh Brazil- 
 ian nuts, pounded up with sugar, ever so good. 
 We drank (very little drops, with Salvie glaring 
 at us and thinking out loud about our precious 
 throats) Portuguese wines and then, at the end, 
 little cups of strong black coffee. Imagine all that 
 food at midday in a boiling hot climate, and yet 
 people seem to thrive on it. It makes you wonder 
 if there isn't a terrible lot of nonsense talked 
 about the sort of food you ought to eat. Here half 
 the population eats what should be heaps too 
 much meat, and the other half lives entirely upon 
 mandioca, and yet here they are quite alive and 
 pretty strong, I suppose." 
 
 Looking up from her letter, the eyes of the girl 
 were caught by the rapidly moving figure of a 
 man who crossed the pavement on the opposite 
 side of the road beneath her window, in a blaze 
 of sun. John Ware ! Disappearing in the distance 
 without calling upon her, without caring if she 
 was alive or dead, indifferent! Detestable person, 
 she cried to his retreating back. Taking up her 
 pen, she wrote hurriedly: 
 
 '^Our friend Mr. Ware neglects us abominably. 
 
150 BLACK GOLD 
 
 He sent a note to say he was leaving the city a 
 few days after we got here, and all I have seen of 
 him since he returned is the back of his head '' 
 
 At that moment something light caught her 
 eyes again; the white-clad figure of a man who 
 once more passed along the pavement below. John 
 Ware returning, but still hurried, still oblivious. 
 Resentment surged in her heart, and she did not 
 know why she rose and, standing in the shadow 
 of the shutter, watched him approach the comer. 
 He reached it, and there hesitated, half turned, 
 looked up at the hotel; stood with his eyes for 
 four long seconds fixed upon the balcony of Mar- 
 garita's room, and then, with a curious quick ges- 
 ture, a hasty clenching and flinging of his hand, 
 turned the corner and was out of sight. 
 
 Again Margarita tore up part of her letter. As 
 she took up her pen once more and went on writ- 
 ing, her lips parted in smiles. 
 
 **From my balcony," she went on, *'I can see 
 directly into the square, full of mango trees and 
 palms like feather dusters. Down pn one side is 
 the governor's palace, a long low house; some day 
 they will have a grand new one, at the top of the 
 same street where the theatre stands, when they 
 have finished pulling it down and building it up 
 again. On the left I can look across the corner of 
 the square, down and into a garden with a high 
 wall. There are not many plants in the gar- 
 den because nearly all the space is full of little 
 tables and chairs. When a piano isn't being 
 banged there is a squawking gramophone that 
 shouts songs and dance tunes, and last night the 
 place was crammed with people who kept joining 
 in the songs and getting up and dancing between 
 the tables. They kept this up all night long till 
 
BLACK GOLD 151 
 
 dawn came, and although I slept (you know when 
 I am going to sleep, I do sleep) yet in between 
 naps I heard the queerest high-pitched laugh of 
 a woman. Two or three times I got up and went 
 to look into the garden, all hung with little bright 
 lamps, but couldn ^t make out who laughed in that 
 queer way. It was the most melancholy sound I 
 ever heard, and it has stuck in my head all day 
 long." 
 
 She hesitated over this; again tore a page into 
 scraps. No, that did not belong to Sansoe. 
 
 ''The first morning I got up very early and 
 went for a walk, up a street where long lines of 
 ants bustled along with chips of green on their 
 shoulders, with the manner of people who had 
 the work of the world upon them. I found the 
 cathedral, too. But I was afraid of being lost — 
 alas! I wish I had learnt more Portuguese from 
 dearest Nair, and so came back, to find Salvie 
 standing at the door, almost jumping up and 
 down with rage. How could I worry him so ! And 
 what right had I to show myself! Please stay in- 
 doors, he begged, he entreated, demanded, with 
 tears ! At least until he got us staged. You would 
 think we were Circassian beauties to be kept 
 veiled. It was with difficulty that Francie and I 
 and Bianca got permission from our tyrant to go 
 to hear mass; he won't let any of the chorus out 
 of their rooms. He and Mr. Laroche spend half 
 their time sending back presents from kind per- 
 sons before the girls see them. 
 
 ''I wonder if there is really an exciting air 
 about this place, or if I imagine it because I have 
 heard it so violently discussed. But it seems as if 
 there was a suspended, breathless atmosphere of 
 waiting for something to happen; as if the whole 
 
152 BLACK GOLD 
 
 place were fictitious and any minute a puff of 
 wind might come and blow Manaos away. You 
 feel as if it can't be true, and you try to look 
 through the dazzle to find out what is real. And 
 the people seem to walk about as if they knew the 
 place was just here for a minute, and that they 
 enjoyed the joke, and that nobody would hold 
 them accountable for what happened. 
 
 **0f course this is absurd; there are lots of nice, 
 dear people with real homes here like the Freitas- 
 Guimaraes-Cunha families, who are born and get 
 married and bring up their children in turn like 
 the rest of the world. I suppose the impression 
 comes from the floating mass of foreigners, all of 
 them making frantic amounts of money and get- 
 ting light-headed. I should be light-headed too if 
 my income suddenly jumped from a few pounds a 
 week to ten thousand — indeed, the possession of 
 the few pounds by themselves has an effect upon 
 me! To-night there is a reception at a wonderful 
 house *' 
 
 At that moment the lean camareiro showed a 
 smiling face, crowned with a mop of black curls, 
 at her door: it was time for almoco — would not 
 the senhoras descend? He had already called 
 Madame Antonelli and the other ladies — and here 
 they were. He bowed the girls downstairs with 
 the air of a proud showman. 
 
 i 
 
xm 
 
 AT eleven o'clock that night the sisters stood 
 in a brightly lighted wide room, bedecked 
 with palms and flowers, among a crowd of people. 
 Francina, radiant, laughed and aired her passable 
 French, while irreproachably groomed men 
 bowed over her little hands. Evaristo da Cunha, 
 suave, his eyes softened, stood beside and a little 
 behind her, not moving except to acknowledge 
 with his agreeable smile the homage of the smaller 
 politicians and the careful courtesies of the for- 
 eigners. Fair-headed Englishmen from the Harbor 
 company and the banks, Americans from the big 
 rubber company, Germans, French, Portuguese, 
 all came in for at least a few minutes. Whenever 
 small groups gathered in outer rooms and corners, 
 the price of rubber was being discussed. 
 
 Margarita, standing by her sister, her eyes 
 dreaming, her face pale, replied a little absently 
 to pleasant greetings and looked from time to 
 time over the courteously bent backs towards the 
 wide entrance. Watching her, you might have de- 
 cided that some fixed idea possessed her, that she 
 expected someone, and that her smiles and gay re- 
 torts were checked in a curious manner whenever 
 the shadow of a newcomer touched the threshold 
 of that bright room. And when her eyes suddenly 
 lighted at the sight of a fair-haired, slender man, 
 who presently came in, talking earnestly to 
 Affonso Guimaraes, and you noticed that she broke 
 
 153 
 
154 BLACK GOLD 
 
 off in the middle of a sentence, forgetting what 
 she was saying and remaining inattentive to her 
 interlocutor, you might have thought her an 
 unmannerly young woman. 
 
 When Ware looked across the room, the little 
 hypocrite at once glanced away, bestowed a lovely 
 view of her long eyelashes upon the dark gentle- 
 man who stood nearest at her side, and began to 
 talk gaily. And when, after ten minutes or so, he 
 came to her, she greeted him with the same small 
 coquetries that she used upon the group about 
 her. 
 
 He surveyed her, an enchanting vision in her 
 transparent rosy frock, with her air of a wood 
 nymph subtly transformed into that of a dancing 
 princess, with a look of regret and almost obvious 
 jealousy. She retained her delicate remoteness 
 and yet there was a real if vague difference; he 
 said to himself that this was inevitable. He had 
 seen more complete changes, and he must be re- 
 signed to this. But he felt the rebellious pang of 
 the betrayed. Little comrade of the moors, are 
 you gone? he said to himself, looking into her 
 charming face. His eyes were gray granite, his 
 manner ironical, as he, too, bowed low before her. 
 
 It was after some minutes of compliments, of 
 reproaches from Francina for his neglect, coun- 
 tered by his cool: **I beg that you will pardon a 
 slave! You know I am a mere clerk, a subordi- 
 nate, when I am not a seringueiro, ' ' that Mar- 
 garita said to him suddenly, finding him close at 
 her side: 
 
 **Do you know that I have something of yours? 
 — the tie that you lent me when I went riding.'' 
 
 **Yes? It is of no more service to youT' 
 
 **I am not so sure of that!'' she laughed, her 
 
 I 
 
BLACK GOLD 155 
 
 manner teasing. ^'I think I will keep it to make 
 magic with, in case I want to call you when you 
 disappear again into your cave in the forest." 
 
 He fixed serious eyes upon her that suddenly 
 l^ecame blue, and spoke in an intent and lowered 
 voice: *^ Would you have to make magic to call 
 mer' 
 
 She stared at him without a reply. He went 
 on almost under his breath: 
 
 ^^If here, at any time, you want something , . . 
 will you call mef 
 
 Abashed, her gay smiles gone, she waited a 
 second or two and then answered as seriously as 
 he had spoken: ^^Yes." And then, as Francina 
 turned to them with some laughing comment, 
 Margarita recovered from her momentary sur- 
 render to his gravity and asked him: **"Why don't 
 you say that you'd fly from the ends of the earth 
 to serve me? That's the correct sort of thing, in 
 Manaos! Englishmen will never have Latin man- 
 ners, alas!" 
 
 He made no reply to this, but said briefly: *'I 
 have to return to the seringal in a few hours. 
 Permit me to make my adieux. ' ' 
 
 She stopped him with a gesture, urged by some 
 imp. '^You really don't say the right things, or 
 do them, either!" She held out her slim hand, 
 looked consideringly at her fingers, transparent 
 against the light. 
 
 *'You don't even kiss my hand, as everybody 
 else does." 
 
 Receiving no immediate response, the imp sent 
 her farther. '^ Won't you*? Just for the sake of 
 appearances, here ? Come, you should at least pre- 
 tend to be decently civil to me." She offered her 
 hand provocatively. 
 
156 BLACK GOLD 
 
 The young man took this hand, raised it, looked 
 at it with attention, almost as if committing its 
 lines to memory, and then, still holding it, moved 
 a little closer to her and said: ** Margarita, I don't 
 kiss your hand, now or here. When I do kiss you 
 — ^when I do kiss you— I shall not kiss your hands 
 only, and not in sight of a hundred people. 
 Don't — ever — say a thing like that to me again.'* 
 
 He dropped her hand and was gone. With the 
 instinct of a w^oman, she glanced quickly about 
 to see if anyone had observed this interlude. No, 
 apparently. There was a stir at the door, as some 
 notability came in; all heads were turned in that 
 direction. She had a moment to recover from the 
 feeling that Ware's words roused; she felt her 
 cheeks bloodless, her body trembling. She said 
 to herself that she was angry with him, that 
 he was abominably impertinent, that he would 
 have to ask many times before she forgave him. 
 
 But as she began to dance, a moment later, with 
 a mustached gentleman who looked just like the 
 portraits of King Carlos, she heard a little tune 
 that began to sing itself in her heart, a little tune 
 that made her head swim and brought a mist of 
 gold before her eyes, so that the lighted room and 
 faces of people passed like shadows before her. 
 It was when she returned to Francina's side, 
 where this matron sat in a rather secluded alcove 
 with the head of Evaristo very near her own, that 
 she first experienced a feeling of awakening from 
 this dream. Francina, displaying traces of un- 
 usual irritation when her sister approached her, 
 let her escort take his leave without more than a 
 word, and then showed a malicious face. Eying 
 her sister, frowning slightly, she said abruptly: 
 
 '*So your dear friend Mr. Ware has actually 
 
BLACK GOLD 157 
 
 been able to tear himself away from his enamo- 
 rada in the forest for a few hours! You must feel 
 flattered." 
 
 Margarita looked at her, quite uncomprehend- 
 ing her sister's intention. Francina, more impa- 
 tiently, went on: *^I think you ought to pay less 
 attention to Mr. "Ware. Whenever he is any- 
 where about, you let him monopolize you in a 
 dreadfully conspicuous manner. It's time you 
 were sensible about things like that. You can run 
 about in England with men, but you can't 
 here " 
 
 **Eun about!" murmured Margarita, surprised. 
 She knew Francie's hasty temper, but could not 
 understand this new irritation. 
 
 *'Well, I am warning you. You had better look 
 for a husband who isn't a planter without one 
 penny to rub against another. ' ' 
 
 Margarita plucked up a little spirit. **0 Fran- 
 cie, don't be vulgar. How could you say such a 
 thing?" 
 
 Francina checked herself, closed her lips, 
 seemed to think for a moment, and followed a 
 different lead. **0f course, I was joking . . . but 
 dear child, I feel very responsible for you, and I 
 don't like to see you getting — even a little bit — 
 interested in a man whose conduct — ^whose ideas 
 of morality — ^whose " 
 
 **What on earth do you mean?" demanded 
 Margarita. 
 
 Francina dropped her voice. '* Dearest child, 
 don't you know, don't you remember that half- 
 Indian girl with the fair baby on board ship? The 
 girl who Vicente is said to be married to? How 
 obliging of Vicente ! Didn 't you notice how much 
 John Ware was interested in that girl and that 
 
158 BLACK GOLD 
 
 blonde child — as fair as he is! You didn't think 
 that was Vicente's child, did youT' 
 
 Margarita stared at her, her heart ice, leaden. 
 "I don't believe it," she managed to whisper, but 
 even as she made the assertion a panorama of 
 quick memories passed through her mind: Ware 
 on board ship, going down to the lower deck every 
 day to visit Luisinha and the babies, his open 
 fondness for the little fair child, his rather 
 strange withdrawal from her own society since 
 they had reached Brazil. She felt a gust of shame 
 and anger. 
 
 A group of people approached the alcove. Evar- 
 isto da Cunha, his enigmatical eyes half shut as 
 he looked at Francina, his arm lightly within 
 Aif onso 's ; a tall young man, weedy, with a melan- 
 choly face, came with them. Margarita was com- 
 pelled to bend her stiffened lips into smiles, but 
 as she danced and responded to gallantries the 
 tune no longer sang in her heart; a kind of stub- 
 born argument went on, against her will, instead. 
 Lonely men in the tropics! said one voice; what 
 didn't they do! And another declared, obsti- 
 nately: I don't believe it, while the first again 
 said: Eubbish! Why shouldn't it be true? And 
 in response she only heard: What does it matter? 
 What does it matter to me? 
 
 Affonso did not seem to notice her abstraction. 
 She replied to him almost at random, but he had 
 the face of an enraptured young man as he bent 
 over her. Evaristo, who never danced, remained 
 at Francina 's side, and she presently said to him 
 coolly: *'I am wondering whether it would be 
 judicious to encourage my pretty sister to marry 
 your cousin Affonso." 
 
 *<Why not?" He bowed with a sweet smile, his 
 
BLACK GOLD 159 
 
 smouldering eyes upon her fair neck, and went on 
 quietly: ** There is no religious difficulty, and they 
 are both of good family. If you need a diploma, 
 madame, I will answer for Affonso's character." 
 
 '^You would like it?'' 
 
 *' Assuredly. Anything that would help to bind 
 you — to us." 
 
 **Ah, you are simply being gallant," she said, 
 simply and directly. * * Of course, at the same time, 
 I do not know that our own family would consent. 
 But seriously, I wished to know your views about 
 these two." 
 
 ^* Seriously, then, you need have no doubt about 
 our view, or of Affonso's future," he answered 
 her in kind. **But now, tell me! Is it necessary 
 for you, for the women of your family, to have 
 the consent of their parents — ^when they love? Is 
 it a Cornish custom?" 
 
 She regarded him with calm eyes. 
 
 **I will tell you what is our custom. To hold 
 our heads very high. As high as your eyes can 
 reach, senhor." 
 
 **My eyes can see as far as the topmost heights 
 of love." 
 
 **I do not know what love is," said Francina, 
 still without any smile. 
 
 **I could teach you." 
 
 *'I do not know. I am not sure that I wish to 
 know. Do you think that you are not, perhaps, 
 thinking of passion and not love? Ah, remem- 
 ber that I am not a child! I do not fear passion! 
 But love ! That is what makes women fools — that 
 is the ruin of millions of us." She continued to 
 look at him steadily. 
 
 **It would be worth while living, to have you, a 
 woman like you, foolish about me for an hour," 
 
160 BLACK GOLD 
 
 said Evaristo in a very low voice, not meeting her 
 eyes. She began to laugh. 
 
 **If I am, if I ever am foolish, for an hour, it 
 would only be because I was sure that you were 
 foolish about me for — oh, let's say a year. If I 
 ever committed an indiscretion, it would be only 
 because you risked your life or your career for 
 me. If I ever gave you my little finger, it would 
 
 be because you gave me '' She hesitated for a 
 
 few seconds. ** Because you gave me your whole 
 body." 
 
 This seemed to startle him a little. He spoke 
 slowly when he responded. '*Are you offering — 
 terms? And do you think you are making hard 
 terms?'' 
 
 She laughed again. ** Terms! Heaven forbid! 
 But, you know, if they were, you need not take 
 them." 
 
 **You would not have told them to me unless 
 you knew that no yoke you could put upon me 
 would be heavy, no terms hard. Or if you did not 
 mean to keep your side of the bargain, and to give 
 me that little finger." 
 
 She did not answer, looking upon him with 
 clear eyes. 
 
 He rose and stood smiling. 
 
 **I have no shame in monopolizing you, 
 madame, but it may make the evening more inter- 
 esting in your memory if I allow my enemies an 
 opportunity of paying their respects to you." 
 
 **Your enemies! You permit them to breathe 
 the same air?" 
 
 **For two reasons. In the first place, we meet 
 on neutral ground here: this is a house without 
 politics. In the second place, I find it stimulating 
 to have visual proof of the fact that they are still 
 
 i 
 
BLACK GOLD 161 
 
 alive and active. . . . The world would be so dull 
 if one had only friends.'' 
 
 **0h, you are quite right, I am sure. Only, as I 
 have never had any friends ..." Francina mur- 
 mured. 
 
 Across the room a stout, serious-faced man 
 talked with an attentive group, but sent a fugitive 
 glance in the direction of the sisters. 
 
 ^*You know already some of my bitterest 
 opponents, ' ' said Evaristo with calm. "* ^ That citi- 
 zen in the distance is Domingos Souza senior. He 
 has a great deal too much money for which he did 
 not work. He does not know why, because he is 
 a rubber dealer, his wife should now pay two 
 hundred pounds each for her dresses instead of 
 making them herself out of muslin. Women take 
 to money like, as you say, ducks to water. . . . 
 But men! What difference does money make to 
 them? They eat red beans and farinha just the 
 same." 
 
 **You seem to sympathize with him." 
 
 **I like him personally. There are good reasons. 
 The best of them is that he writes exquisite son- 
 nets. Beautiful. Bilac himself has said that they 
 are good. But unfortunately, instead of sticking 
 to verse he wants to be governor. ' ' 
 
 ''Why should he not be governor?" 
 
 *'Ah, madame, he has not the necessary phy- 
 sique. Too flabby. One has to be made of rubber 
 or of wire springs. It is a wearing life. He is 
 too anxious. He worries himself. For his own 
 sake, I couldn't consent " 
 
 Custodio de Freitas came up to them, Leona 
 upon his arm. She looked like a figurine, was so 
 much smothered in powder that her golden skin 
 could not be seen, and kept her heavy-lidded eyes 
 
162 BLACK GOLD 
 
 almost shut. Custodio, very small and thin and 
 yellow in his evening clothes, saluted the sisters 
 with smiles that livened all his wrinkles. 
 
 **Is it an indiscretion to ask madame where her 
 charming husband is?" he murmured to Fran- 
 cina. *^ There is a little matter of business the 
 committee would like to settle with him, a debt 
 we owe. How happy we are that you came! You 
 have made such a brilliant success, the city is so 
 enchanted, so utterly at your feet " 
 
 Francina tried to appear as if she were covered 
 with blushes. **You are all too kind. We are 
 enjoying every minute of our stay here, all too 
 short. As to my poor husband, he has a touch 
 of fever, and must stay in bed. I ought to be at 
 home, a dutiful wife, putting wet towels on his 
 head." 
 
 Custodio was deeply concerned. *^But you must 
 permit me to visit the senhor. And my cousin, 
 the best doctor in the state, will see him " 
 
 Evaristo also intervened. ** Malaria is not a 
 thing to be neglected. The remedies are simple, 
 but it is imperative that they should be consist- 
 ently taken." 
 
 **0h, but he isn't really ill," Francina pro- 
 tested. **He's very cross, poor soul, because his 
 voice has failed him. We didn't want him to come 
 to the theatre this morning for rehearsals, and he 
 quarrelled with everybody just because he has 
 a temperature." 
 
 ''Fever has curious effects " 
 
 * 'If he is not able to go to the theatre to-mor- 
 row, I am afraid that after 'Boheme' and perhaps 
 ^Pagliacci' or 'Rigoletto' we shall have to put off 
 any more performances for a few days," she went 
 on seriously. 
 
BLACK GOLD 163 
 
 *'A very good idea, madame, altliongh we may 
 regret the cause. But anything that will prolong 
 your stay here " 
 
 '* Someone, you see, has to go down to Para to 
 meet the Italian boat. She is due next Wednes- 
 day. And if Mr. Laroche has to go and Salvatore 
 is ill " 
 
 Custodio and Evaristo united in protests at her 
 distress, as she raised troubled eyes to them. She 
 must not alarm herself, she must not be worried; 
 whatever happened, Manaqs would be well satis- 
 fied. She had not forgotten that on Sunday a 
 water picnic had been arranged, up the Negro to 
 the islands where orchids grew? Custodio prom- 
 ised himself the pleasure of showing the visitors 
 rubber trees in a real seringal. It would not be 
 necessary to postpone the trip? 
 
 **0h, no! Margarita adores picnics, and even 
 if I could not go this time, Bianca and Beatriz 
 would be delighted.^' She glanced about the room 
 as she spoke, saw Bianca dancing sedately, and 
 beside a screen caught sight of the marcelled head 
 of the Sforzi, attentively turned towards a short 
 and swarthy man who seemed to be breathing 
 into her neck. 
 
 Leona, in spite of her haK-shut eyes, noted the 
 look, and began to speak in her languid French. 
 She never spoke Portuguese in public. 
 
 **I should warn you of my Uncle Custodio. He 
 will make you walk for miles in a dark and 
 steamy forest. And what is worse, he will tell you 
 all about the industry of rubber.'' 
 
 Everyone laughed, Custodio 's eyes disappear- 
 ing among his wrinkles, and someone reminded 
 Leona that she was to be one of the victims her- 
 self. She flickered her eyelashes towards a dark 
 
164 BLACK GOLD 
 
 and slim young man who hovered on the edge of 
 the group, and murmured, *^But I shall not listen. 
 I have such a cleverness at not hearing things/' 
 She moved a step nearer to Francina and mur- 
 mured in a lower voice, '*I did not, for example, 
 hear just now what is being said to your prima 
 donna by that strange individual with all the 
 diamonds on his hands." 
 
 Francina glanced quickly towards the flowery 
 screen, and bit an angry lip as she took in the 
 flushed exuberance of the Sforzi's admirer and 
 the giggling delight of the lady. **I could beat 
 her to death joyfully," she said. **She has not 
 moved a step without that kind gentleman at her 
 side for two days." 
 
 She reflected, speaking in an undertone. **I am 
 terrified to speak to her, or'I would invite her to 
 join us. . . . She was in a frightful fury this morn- 
 ing. She sang abominably and Salvie was cross 
 too and he scolded her. He said she was a quarter 
 tone sharp all through one aria, and Laroche was 
 just remarking that that wasn't possible because 
 she was a half tone flat on all her high notes, and 
 at that moment the orchestra stopped suddenly, 
 and the Sforzi heard him and wouldn't open her 
 mouth again." 
 
 As she spoke, Beatriz Sforzi stood up, flitting 
 an enormous fan, and, followed by the dark citi- 
 zen with the diamonds, went from the room in a 
 cloud of floating chiffon. 
 
 She never came back. Next morning a telegram 
 pushed under Salvatore's door announced the 
 first defection from the opera company. 
 
 i 
 
XIV 
 
 SALVATORE did not join the water picnic. 
 The touch of fever that had troubled him on 
 the day after the first performance recurred forc- 
 ibly, and Francina elected to stay with him. **I 
 hate getting up early, and I object to knowing 
 anything more about the rubber industry,'' she 
 hastened to explain, when Aifonso complimented 
 her devotion. From the trip Evaristo also de- 
 fected at the last moment, and Affonso brought 
 his handsome secretary, Domingos Souza junior, 
 to make the third man. **A charming fellow, quite 
 without intelligence,'' Affonso said of him airily. 
 **I like to attach him to me because he is of the 
 opposite political camp. It's rather rash of him 
 to trust himself to my hands. It might be rash 
 of me, no doubt, too, but the dear fellow is too 
 beautifully stupid. . . . You will notice he carries 
 a little pocket mirror, like all the young men of 
 our best families. When you see him staring pas- 
 sionately into it sixty times a day, you don't won- 
 der that I trust him with the keys of my desk." 
 They started in the half light of dawn, AfPonso's 
 carriage taking the three girls down to the water 
 landing where the Guimaraes' big motor boat was 
 moored; they were on their way before the mist 
 was off the surface of the water. Running rapidly 
 into the Negro from the igarape, the boat cut 
 through the almost currentless black water with- 
 out encountering any noticeable resistance, mak- 
 ing for the islands lying some fifty miles above 
 Manaos. They made about fifteen knots, running 
 
 165 
 
166 BLACK GOLD 
 
 beside the left bank, close enough to catch the 
 breath of sweet flowers hanging from the high 
 tree tops, blown in the soft gusts of fresh morn- 
 ing. As the sun rose, immediately turning the 
 chill air to glowing, saturating warmth, birds be- 
 gan to call from the thickets, and couples of 
 scarlet tanagers played in the tangles of creepers. 
 The trupial called again and again, a clear, ring- 
 ing, intimate call from the close leaves. 
 
 The black river narrowed, then widened again, 
 the dense forest marching along its margins, and, 
 in that unusually dry season, showing the great 
 buttressed roots and a strip of soil or sand be- 
 neath them. Soon after ten o'clock the motor 
 boat began to pass the wooded sides of green 
 islands that lay in the middle of the river, with 
 white sandy shores shelving to the water. Here 
 the vegetation was more varied, lighter in color 
 than in the dense, close forest with its great trees 
 covered with small dark leaves; here were bushes 
 and assahy palms, more undergrowth and flowers. 
 Scores of pretty parasites perched in every notch 
 of the branches; bunches and clusters of orchids 
 dripped long trails of yellow flame. Little slim- 
 stemmed trees with shivering silver-backed 
 leaves bent over the river. 
 
 They stopped for breakfast at a beautiful clean 
 white beach, a first-class place for turtles' eggs, 
 Custodio declared. They lighted a fire quickly, 
 made coffee, and ate an enormous breakfast. All 
 sorts of food came out of the capacious baskets 
 of the Guimaraes. Margarita declared herself 
 still sleepy and was actually rather pale and 
 silent; Bianca, cheerful as ever, drank cham- 
 pagne and flirted with the much-flattered Custo- 
 dio; Leona Guimaraes, deliciously painted, with 
 
BLACK GOLD 167 
 
 her air of a bisque china doll, did not stir from 
 the imperturbable, dignified calm with which she 
 permitted the open adoration of young Domingos 
 Souza. It was at the end of the meal, when 
 Affonso leaned over Margarita to pour fresh 
 scented black coffee into her cup that he remarked 
 in a low voice but quite casually: *^It is in Evar- 
 isto's seringal, you remember, that your friend Mn 
 Ware has a share ... his section is not far from 
 here. Perhaps we shall see him.'' 
 
 Startled, and becoming paler than before, she 
 said quickly: '*0h, no!'' and then as he raised 
 interrogative eyebrows she went on: *'I mean, he 
 doesn't expect us. Perhaps he won't be there." 
 
 **No, he does not expect us. Not at all. But 
 I daresay he can stand the shock," said Affonso 
 calmly. '*The fact is, I have a message for him, 
 and perhaps I may have to ask you to let me 
 leave you for a few minutes while I go to find 
 him." She did not reply, and Affonso added after 
 a pause: '^He is really a rubber enthusiast. He 
 spends so much time here now — he must be at- 
 tracted to this spot. And no doubt he is getting 
 the seringal into excellent order. It was not very 
 good a few years ago — too near the city. Over- 
 tapped." 
 
 He helped the girl to her feet, as the boat's 
 engines began to throb. 
 
 They left one of the servants behind to wash 
 the dishes and re-pack, and Affonso took the 
 wheel. The sun beat down with immense power, 
 and not even the swift motion of the boat could 
 counteract that pitiless blaze; it was a marked 
 relief when they left the open river and cut be- 
 tween a couple of islands whose overhanging 
 woods threw green shade over the channel. 
 
168 BLACK GOLD 
 
 '*The seringal lies on the other side," Affonso 
 explained, and Margarita asked him how he knew 
 the way. There were so many islands and water- 
 paths. 
 
 He smiled. ''I am not quite so clever as I 
 should like you to think me. Any of these chan- 
 nels will take us to the other side of the river, 
 and when I come out from the islands I look out 
 for a curious clump of trees growing on a rocky 
 spit — ^here we are. Look north, senhora. Do you 
 see it? No? We must run a little farther up." 
 
 When, a few minutes later, she reported sight- 
 ing the jutting rock with its cluster of straight 
 trees, he was pleased. **What did I tell you? 
 Now, there is a little water path, a tiny igarape, 
 running into the forest exactly opposite, and we 
 can cross directly to it." 
 
 The opening was invisible a few yards away, 
 closely hung with verdure and guarded by enor- 
 mous buttressed trees; the motor boat crawled in, 
 with only a few inches to spare on either side, 
 and was at once almost in darkness under the 
 matted foliage. When they had run about half 
 a mile along this channel Affonso shut off the en- 
 gine; where the boat came to a stop there lay on 
 the left a tiny clearing visible through a screen 
 of slender shrubs, a grass-thatched hut standing 
 in the sun at the top of a little path. 
 
 **Here we are! Let us make a call upon our 
 friend," Affonso said quietly. '*I will go and find 
 out if there is anyone at home." Jumping from 
 the boat, he ran to the hut, pushed open the door, 
 and looked keenly at the few objects it contained 
 — a hammock slung from corner to corner, a 
 chair, a shelf of tins and boxes and a book or two, 
 a bundle suspended from the rafters out of the 
 
BLACK GOLD 169 
 
 way of ants. Margarita, impelled by a curious 
 feeling that led her to interpose, as if she was 
 obliged to take care of the lares and penates of the 
 absent Ware (not that she cared anything about 
 that person!) got up and stepped ashore. Nobody 
 else stirred, although Bianca cried out that this 
 was a most romantic spot — *'full of flies and ants 
 and garrapatos, ' ' said the placid Leona. 
 
 Affonso, shaking his finger in signal that no one 
 was at home, came out, shut the swinging bark 
 door, and then, instead of returning to the boat, 
 began to peer about the edges of the clearing; 
 when he found a trampled trail that led into the 
 forest behind the hut he went a step or two along 
 it, made sure that it continued, and then came 
 back to the motor boat, saying in a decisive voice: 
 **I think that Mr. Ware is probably in the little 
 seringal on this side of the igarape. Will you 
 kindly wait for me — ^just a few minutes? I will 
 have a look and return very soon." 
 
 He was visibly disconcerted when Margarita, 
 her curious impression crystallizing, came for- 
 ward declaring: **I shall come with you.'' 
 
 *^0h, no! It's too hot, and there's no path: and 
 nothing to see. The good seringal is on the other 
 side of the creek. We can go there later — ^you 
 must not become tired with the heat,'' he pro- 
 tested. Vainly, for she took no notice and fol- 
 lowed him along the winding trail that was only 
 to be discovered by watching the bruised verdure 
 underfoot; it was screened with thorny bushes 
 and overhung with long vines that Affonso held 
 back for her passage. 
 
 When they had walked for four or five minutes, 
 making their way in silence through the matted 
 bushes, negotiating the boles of great trees whose 
 
170 BLACK GOLD 
 
 roots rose like walls three or four feet high, they 
 parted a curtain of lianes to find themselves on 
 the edge of the second clearing. A long hut, double 
 the size of that on the edge of the igarape, stood 
 here, and the smoke that poured through the 
 opening showed that it was or had been occupied. 
 
 ** Perhaps he is there," murmured Affonso, and 
 his watchful manner again struck Margarita as 
 strange. She walked forward and spoke out loud: 
 **Why should he be here? Surely he hasn't got 
 two huts to live in?" 
 
 As she spoke the half-open door moved quickly, 
 and Ware, probably hearing her voice, appeared. 
 With a smothered exclamation he came out and 
 deftly fastened the door behind him. His manner 
 was composed as always, but his pale face was 
 covered with perspiration; his cotton shirt was 
 open at the neck, his sleeves rolled up. He mopped 
 his forehead with a handkerchief as he came 
 towards his visitors, looking at them without a 
 smile. The thought occurred to Margarita that 
 the eyes she had imagined to be blue were really 
 as light and hard and gray as granite. His manner 
 was not that of a pleased and agreeable host. 
 Margarita spoke first. ^'We have come to sed 
 your rubber trees, Mr. Ware. . . . Good morning, 
 Mr. Ware." 
 
 He bowed gravely to her, and looked at Gui- 
 maraes narrowly. '*Good morning. I am sorry, 
 but you are in the wrong direction. . . . There's 
 really no rubber to be seen here; the seringal is 
 quite a little farther upstream ... as I need not 
 tell you." He still looked at Affonso Guimaraes, 
 Then in a brief, businesslike tone: ''Where's 
 your boat? Let me put you on the right track.'' 
 
 **The boat is lying up the igarape just in front 
 
BLACK GOLD 171 
 
 of your — ^your first palacete," smiled Affonso. 
 ** You must be a very wealthy man, with two coun- 
 try homes. Will you not ask us in?" 
 
 **You must pardon me if I don't," returned 
 Ware coolly. *^The ... as you see, there's a fire, 
 and it's going rather badly. You must really ex- 
 cuse me. ... I don't quite understand why you 
 came up the igarape to get to the seringal. It 
 would have been much easier to go farther up- 
 stream, and land by the big barracao: the collect- 
 ing house and central store," he explained to 
 Margarita, suddenly becoming a little polite, but 
 at the same time moving away from the second 
 house, and almost pushing his visitors down the 
 path. What was the matter with him? For that 
 matter, what was the matter with Affonso? She 
 said to herself as she walked down the path in 
 front of Ware, that they both behaved as if there 
 was something they didn't speak of, as if they 
 were thinking all the time of something else. 
 
 Suddenly an idea came into her mind, the 
 remembrance of the abyss that had seemed to open 
 tinder her happy feet a few nights before, the 
 abyss that the words of Francina had pointed out, 
 and that she had tried to forget. It was not truel 
 She didn't care — what did it matter to her? But 
 it wasn't true! Pricked suddenly into speech, she 
 turned and said to Ware in a low, trembling voice, 
 ashamed, but unable to check herself: ^'Tell me, 
 I want you to tell me: that second house, there, 
 is that — is it — is that Vicente's house?" 
 
 He heard her with astonishment in the middle 
 of his own annoyed distraction, and answered her 
 as if he was satisfying the idle curiosity of a 
 child: ''Oh, that? Vicente's? Yes, yes. Yes, 
 that's Vicente's house." 
 
172 BLACK GOLD 
 
 She moved on again without a word more, her 
 face burning. She pulled her big soft straw hat 
 down in front of her eyes, and suddenly felt two 
 tears running over her cheeks. She was furious, 
 insulted, shaking with shame. She had actually 
 asked him, and he had dared to tell her. . . . She 
 stooped to pick a tiny ball of mauve fluff, flower of 
 the sensitive creeping mimosa, hastily brushed 
 away the idiotic tears, and began to laugh gaily 
 as Affonso, recovering his insouciance, told Ware 
 of the gossip of the city, all the political news and 
 rumors. The election was to be held in ten days, 
 he remarked, and everybody was watching his 
 neighbor. **0f course our party is going to win 
 again; our people are all still hungry. And Evar- 
 isto is such an excellent chief. It's so clever of 
 him not to be governor himself.'' 
 
 **The Souzas are all hungry too," Ware 
 reminded him. 
 
 *'Yes, but they are not nearly so clever, men 
 caro." He spoke with enthusiasm of the opera 
 company, 'Hhe delight and pride of Manaos," 
 complimenting the sisters with grace. Ware, too, 
 as they approached the igarape, lost a little of his 
 abstracted coolness, although he made no effort 
 to capture the attention of Margarita and still 
 seem preoccupied. 
 
 The other girls called to him from the boat and 
 they exchanged pleasant greetings; but he 
 refused to accompany them. They must please 
 excuse him : if he had known sooner that he was to 
 be honored in this manner he would have been 
 happy . . . but he had a lot of work to do in an- 
 other part of the seringal. He summoned Vicente 
 with a peculiar clear and shrill whistle and when 
 the caboclo appeared running from the other side 
 
BLACK GOLD 173 
 
 of the water, a machado in his hand and a rifle 
 over his shoulder, he told him to show the sen- 
 hores the best path for seeing fine specimens of 
 rubber trees, and to take them to see the nearest 
 smoking huts. 
 
 He waved a cheerful good-by from the creek's 
 edge, almost openly relieved to see them go. 
 Vicente in the part of showman directed the boat 's 
 course back to the Negro, upstream half a mile, 
 and superintended the landing at a point where 
 a little pier ran out in front of a wide clearing. 
 Here stood the temporary storing houses of the 
 rubber, the family dwelling of the overseer of the 
 seringal, and the little shop that sold a box of 
 matches, a kilo of flour, or a gallon of paraffin at 
 the highest price on earth. 
 
 Vicente introduced the party with great pride, 
 and led the way through the forest. Domingos 
 followed with Bianca at a whisper from Affonso 
 Guimaraes, who, for once seeming ready to leave 
 Margarita's side, quietly signed to his cousin 
 Leona. She dropped behind with him at once, 
 allowing Custodio to take his place beside. 
 
 Custodio, beaming upon the pale girl, intro- 
 duced the forest with a generous hand. **Here 
 is the great unconquerable, at the senhora 's pleas- 
 ure. Look at the high pillars and green roof! The 
 forest always appears to me as a dim cathedral, 
 the only one that our native Brazilians possess. 
 The sole temple of the Tupis!" She smiled upon 
 him without listening, rapidly making up in her 
 mind a dozen really spiteful, barbed things that 
 she might say to John Ware ... no, she would 
 never speak to the man again. Custodio was pro- 
 ceeding, delighted to have an audience for the 
 reception of his theories: 
 
174 BLACK GOLD 
 
 **It may not seem strange to you, so young and 
 beautiful, and do not think of these things, that 
 our Indians have never built any temples to their 
 gods. But I, an old man, think of it whenever I 
 enter the forest/' 
 
 (Oh, if one grew very old, things wouldn't 
 hurt so much — ^what shall I think about when I 
 am as old as you, Custodio de Freitas?) 
 
 **I believe very positively that the reason why 
 our Indians never built temples, never had any 
 acute idea of God himself, is because the forest 
 dominates everything, divides them from every- 
 thing else and from each other. It is the reason 
 why they have never, here, been united under 
 any one great king. The tribes are all dispersed 
 and isolated by the forest, smothered in it; no 
 single ruler could ever make his power felt over 
 a great area . . . and people who have no powerful 
 ruler never create enormous monuments. Those 
 have always been erected by magnificent tyrants, 
 inspired by their own fear of God's judgment 
 upon their own sins, or to please their human 
 vanity. The stone temples of the Incas, there 
 just across the Andes, could only have been built 
 under a tyranny. And here nothing tyrannizes 
 but the forest. **Meu Deus! be careful! There's 
 a band of marauding ants! Don't step near them! 
 They bite worse than a serpent." He pulled the 
 girl out of the way, hurried her almost to a run, 
 much agitated. 
 
 The path they followed was a well-trodden 
 trail, cleared of bush at the beginning of the rub- 
 ber-collecting season by the expert matteiro, the 
 woodsman whose business it is to locate rubber 
 trees in a new forest area and to open the way 
 from tree to tree ready for the rubber collector. 
 
BLACK GOLD 175 
 
 There was only a dim light, the sun filtering 
 feebly through the tree tops clustered far above, 
 often a couple of hundred feet above the ground. 
 A damp, pungent breath, charged with the es- 
 sences of rotting leaves, of flowers, of powerful 
 drugs oozing from bark and roots, rose from the 
 damp black soil. Great leaves, many of them cut 
 out in fantastic patterns as if by some indefati- 
 gable dryad with a pair of stout scissors, let rays 
 of sunlight filter through their little windows; 
 furry brown ropes hung twisted from enormous 
 heights. Here was the immense, warring life of 
 plants and trees: but not a bird called nor was 
 there a sign of any animal inhabitants. For them 
 the forest was too deep and dark: only beside the 
 water or along wide pathways where bright 
 sunlight penetrated could such life survive the 
 pressure of the forest. 
 
 Vicente, waiting ahead, displayed a big ser- 
 inga. Its millions of three-fingered leaves spread, 
 motionless in the hot, still air, above its great 
 trunk, covered with the deep scars made by years 
 of tapping. It seemed to Margarita, looking with 
 respect upon this dignified tree, that it must be 
 deeply injured by these numberless wounds. The 
 little tin cups used to catch the precious latex 
 during the morning's bleeding had already been 
 emptied, and were standing upside down on bits 
 of stick at the tree's foot like groups of some 
 queer fungus. The girl refused to take the sharp 
 little axe, but Custodio insisted on showing her 
 how, gashed lightly, the tree yielded the white 
 milk, sweet to the taste. 
 
 *'Your heart is too tender, mademoiselle!" he 
 told her. **Our seringas take a lot of killing. 
 Believe me, that tree will stand to see your great- 
 
176 BLACK GOLD 
 
 grandchildren/' They walked on slowly, Custo- 
 dio reverting to his ideas about the native tribes, 
 for whom all South Americans, at least theoreti- 
 cally, have no affection. 
 
 **It is easy to understand here, I think, that it 
 is all our Indians can do to live from day to day. 
 The forest is nearer than God; it takes the place 
 of deities, it is unanswerable, there is no appeal 
 from it. AH that is possible is accommodation to 
 it as best may be. The forest is the one great ex- 
 ternal power. It shuts out the rest of the earth 
 and all heaven." 
 
 ** People can't think of God unless they see the 
 sky?" She thought as she spoke of stones set in 
 wide open spaces upon distant moors, free to the 
 sky and wind. 
 
 ** Precisely I Here they never see tlie sky, and 
 so they haven't even the simple fears of most 
 primitive folk, the fears of lightning and thunder. 
 No storm penetrates the deep heart of the forest 
 . . . look up, dear child! Up there the tops might 
 be shaken and beaten with rain and wind, and 
 down here in the calm and dusk not a drop or a 
 gust would touch your little head. No tempestu- 
 ous, capricious god is here to be propitiated by 
 prayer and gifts; and there is no heaven to attain. 
 . . . Nothing but the forest all about, hostile, press- 
 ing upon them, a little toned down by daily con- 
 tact, but never friendly or even indifferent. . . . 
 Look, here's another rubber tree, not quite so 
 badly scarred. "We must have passed thirty other 
 sorts of trees since we saw the first one." 
 
 **If your Indians were afraid of the forest they 
 wouldn't stay in it," she objected. 
 
 '* Where could they go except to other forests? 
 They were born in it, it is all their world, present 
 
 J 
 
BLACK GOLD 177 
 
 and future. . . . They are afraid of it; in many 
 tribes there is such a custom of fear that no man 
 ever enters it alone. They seem to be always con- 
 scious that its life is as active as theirs, as urgent 
 and determined, and very much stronger. The 
 river is much more a friendly thing than the for- 
 est; it is strong too, but it does not harbor so 
 many vicious attackers, and it does not press 
 upon them like the forest.'' 
 
 **It doesn't press on me. I love it. It's so high, 
 and beautiful." 
 
 **A deceitful beauty! It enchants its lovers, 
 but always devours them in the end if they do not 
 run away. Foreigners always love it, and they 
 who know it least are least afraid. . . . Perhaps 
 only the man who is independent of it, whose 
 springs of life and faith rose somewhere else, can 
 afford to take pleasure in it. Or to set up their 
 gods near it! Para and Manaos, at least, have 
 their temples on the edge of the forest, built by 
 foreign hands that don't understand the forest. 
 Temples to pray in!" 
 
 **For their womenfolk to pray in, you mean!" 
 she laughed at him. 
 
 **Yes." He considered this. **Yes. Because 
 civilized men always think the prayers of women 
 more efficacious than their own . . . while the 
 primitive people never let women come anywhere 
 near their gods. I think they were right and the 
 moderns wrong, too. All the liturgical incanta- 
 tions invented by men, all the discipline and laws 
 — women are really quite outside them. Woman 
 is the really free creature who keeps the world 
 from being altogether trammelled." 
 
 ''But it is the women who go to church," she 
 insisted. 
 
178 BLACK GOLD 
 
 '^Only because the men want them to, I am 
 sure. Or else because they are unhappy and think 
 then that perhaps there may be something effi- 
 cacious. ... No pretty young women, happy young 
 women, are religious. You, dear child, so gay and 
 charming, don't tell me that you really fear any 
 gods." 
 
 At a branching path, where the sunlight de- 
 scended in long shafts through openings made by 
 the overthrow of a great tree, Vicente waited for 
 them. An enormous black butterfly with spots 
 the color of verdigris on its wings, plunged and 
 soared in the patterned light; looking upward, 
 long trails of gold-green leaves that appeared to 
 breathe in that radiant atmosphere made fairy 
 ladders to impossible heights, heights where a 
 different kind of airy life existed far out of reach 
 and sight. All about the spot where the tree had 
 been cut out, quantities of chips of bright violet 
 wood strewed the ground, coloring it as if a multi- 
 tude of amethyst flowers grew there. 
 
 Did the senhores wish to see the defumadores 
 now? They could of course walk through many 
 more kilometers of the seringal and see dozens of 
 rubber trees, if they wished, but one tree was 
 much like another. ... By taking the right-hand 
 path they could reach a smoking hut in six 
 minutes. . . 
 
 Very well — if the Senhora Margarita did not 
 want to follow the long day's trail of the serin- 
 gueiro ? 
 
 **I should like to do just that, just out of curi- 
 osity,'' she declared. *'But this is much too late? 
 I should have to begin before dawn ? ' ' 
 
 Indeed she would, Custodio told her. It was a 
 terrible life! He began to tell her that he had 
 
BLACK GOLD 179 
 
 superintended the opening of a great tract farther 
 up the Negro, back in the eighties, when the in- 
 dustrial use of rubber began to teach the Amazon 
 the value of its wild forests. He had marched for 
 days with the expert foresters, examining these 
 huge, swampy tracts and marking out the rubber 
 trees, and for one season he had acted as the 
 superintendent of a seringal. 
 
 '*Ah, what a life, to be a seringueiro! It re- 
 quires so much physical labor in a region where 
 sustained physical labor is almost impossible on 
 account of heat and fevers ... so much inde- 
 pendent, individual effort, too, because each man 
 works alone, and really no one demands any ac- 
 count of his task from him. If he brings in his 
 big balls of black gold now and again, well and 
 good, but if he does not, if he cannot, if he be- 
 comes sick and dies here in the forest, perhaps no 
 one knows for weeks. It must be so easy to render 
 up the soul in this forest, all green, green, in the 
 midst of so much silence, in these vast dim aisles, 
 I think." 
 
 He interpreted a murmur from the girl. 
 
 **Why does he do it? To get money? Some- 
 times he doesn't get any! That depends upon 
 Hamburg and London and New York, senhoral 
 And if he does finish his season's work safely, 
 with even a conto or two in his pocket, he is likely 
 to spend it all in a riotous week in Manaos, buy- 
 ing a gold watch for himself and diamond earrings 
 for a sweetheart. 
 
 **For that he has spent six or eight months in 
 the forest, perhaps, getting up every morning be- 
 fore dawn, walking possibly eight or nine kilo- 
 meters gashing the trees: coming back to his 
 miserable hut, dripping his own coffee, often 
 
180 BLACK GOLD 
 
 shaking with fever so that he cannot hold his cup 
 without spilling — and then making his long round 
 again in the steaming^ afternoon, always alone, 
 collecting the milk, and bringing it back to cure 
 it, drop by drop, a work that takes him for sev- 
 eral hours, sometimes far into the night. And 
 then to sleep in a hammock until it is time to 
 roll out of it and begin again.'* 
 
 She considered. **The rubber trees are so far 
 apart V 
 
 **Yes. Because here in the forest the internal 
 fight is still going on, the fight between different 
 species of trees and plants. You cannot find here 
 anything like your woods of the temperate zone, 
 of just one kind only of beeches or oaks or pines, 
 conquerors after a struggle of untold centuries. 
 No, here they are still battling for mastery, 
 strangling each other — look at them, choking 
 each other to death, a hundred kinds within an 
 arrow shot. Ah, here we are.'' 
 
 At the edge of a little clear stream stood the 
 smoking hut, a small palm-leaf erection with a 
 pointed roof, open in front. In the opening sat a 
 thin, hollow-eyed man, downcast, with large 
 brown eyes that he raised with a concentrated, 
 melancholy look to the visitors. He murmured a 
 courteous greeting and moved as if to rise, but 
 stopped at a gesture and went on with his task. 
 He slowly turned a long handle resting on a 
 pointed stake and bearing at the end a yellow- 
 brown globe, darkening in the fumes of heavy 
 smoke that rose from the opening in a tall cone. 
 He dipped a cup in a bucket of rubber milk, 
 poured it over the mass, turned it, saw it dry and 
 darken, patiently lifted the cup again, adding to 
 the ball, skin by skin. 
 
BLACK GOLD 181 
 
 As they stood watching, Leona and Bianca, on 
 either side of Domingos Souza, joined them. 
 Leona, imperturbable, explained that Affonso had 
 felt a bad headache coming on, and had gone back 
 to the boat to rest. 
 
 It was at just about that moment that Affonso 
 parted the curtain of vines that shielded the sec- 
 ond hut on Ware's side of the seringal, stepped 
 lightly and quickly across the clearing, put his 
 arm and shoulder to the door, pushed it open, and 
 stood upon the threshold in a reek of pungent 
 smoke. 
 
 John Ware, bending with absorbed face over 
 something that he held in his hands over the 
 smoke, started at this sudden entrance. Blinking 
 at the access of light, he peered at his visitor, and, 
 recognizing him in a moment, sat back on his up- 
 turned packing case and waited. The Brazilian, 
 remaining on the threshold, returned his steady 
 look and spoke gently in slow Portuguese. 
 
 *'My very good friend, will you not tell me 
 what you are doing?'' 
 
 Ware did not respond for several seconds, con- 
 tinuing mechanically to pull and twist the gray- 
 ish lump that he held in his hands. Then he said 
 in his cool voice: ** Perhaps I don't quite under- 
 stand you." 
 
 Guimaraes advanced a step or two farther into 
 the hut, casting quick glances about him. The in- 
 terior was rather dim, with two small openings 
 high up out of reach, but he could see a couple 
 of big roughly made tables, covered with neatly 
 arranged assortments of little packages, heaps of 
 nuts, and other objects that he recognized, as well 
 as a bucket of rubber latex on the floor, and an 
 array of bottles and chemical jars upon a shelf. 
 
182 BLACK GOLD 
 
 ''Will you not invite me to sit down? I see the 
 top of an inviting barrel, and it is a hot afternoon 
 and I have had quite a walk. . . . Thank you. M}^ 
 friend, I do not wish to be indiscreet. But — would 
 it not be better if you would confide in me?" 
 
 ''Confide . . J About what?" 
 
 "Your work here." 
 
 "My work here !" He glanced about with a 
 
 smile, continuing to manipulate the elastic lump 
 in his hands. "This is rubber " 
 
 "Yes, yes. But, permit me! Here are sheets of 
 crepe, here are biscuits of another kind . . . pelles 
 . . . strips of caucho. If I do not mistake, there 
 is a pile of the white hevea, the fraca. That must 
 have given you quite a little trouble to get, here in 
 the region of the black hevea. And yonder is an 
 assortment of chemicals, and here are you, stew- 
 ing over a lump of rubber as if your life depended 
 ^onit." 
 
 "My dear Guimaraes, to take an interest in 
 rubber and the different methods of coagulation, 
 is not peculiar, not extraordinary, upon the Ama- 
 zon, of all places?" 
 
 "I am not saying that it is a crime, but under 
 certain aspects it might be indiscreet. . . . Can 
 you smoke this black Para tobacco?" Guimaraes 
 offered his cigarette case to Ware. "Now we can 
 talk better. Senhor Ware, I am truly your friend 
 or I would not have come here. Let me lay my 
 cards on the table. Then you will choose to put 
 down your own, I hope." He looked pleasantly at 
 the Englishman. Ware remained silent. 
 
 "This is what interests me, Senhor Ware. I 
 must go back to matters of last year. You had an 
 acquaintance, a person a little indiscreet, to 
 whom you entrusted some specimens of your 
 
BLACK GOLD ' ,183 
 
 work here, to take out of the country. He either 
 knew or guessed something of their special ob- 
 ject, for he talked about you and your marvellous 
 experiments one night on the steamer, after he 
 had been drinking a quantity of champagne. '^ 
 
 He stopped. ^^Yesf demanded Ware, curt and 
 unsmiling. 
 
 '*As you know, Manaos is rather sensitive 
 on the subject of rubber — so somebody quietly 
 searched his baggage, just before he got to Para. 
 And after that it was thought well to keep an eye 
 upon your correspondence. Some of your letters 
 were addressed to Ceylon." He paused and added 
 a little apologetically: ^*This was during my ab- 
 sence in Europe. But a few days ago I found a 
 file of records. Nobody had, apparently, under- 
 stood. But an idea struck me." 
 
 *'I see." Ware smoked quietly, his eyes fixed 
 upon Guimaraes, who, after hesitating a moment, 
 added: ''The truth is, you might be in some 
 danger here if your experiments came under 
 suspicion. ' ' 
 
 *'You are not suggesting any threat T' 
 
 *'No, no! Hardly that! We don't kill people— 
 at least, not in cold blood. But our citizens can be 
 roused to anger if they are skillfully excited: and 
 there are more than Brazilians interested in the 
 good fortunes of ouro preto. There is all Bolivia 
 and Peru, for instance; and think of the number 
 of rich foreign houses here. For all of them, the 
 high-priced 'hard fine' rubber, the supreme black 
 gold, is the triumphant product of the up-river 
 trees." He spoke very warmly, was silent for a 
 few seconds, and then said with a friendly air: 
 *'I wish you would trust me." 
 Ware moved his packing case a little nearer, 
 
184 BLACK GOLD 
 
 and answered pleasantly: *' Very well, I will. Ton 
 have always been a sincere friend, and added to 
 that you are one of the people in whom I could 
 logically confide now, because you are, as a mat- 
 ter of fact, deeply interested in my success, on 
 account of your family interests in the lower Am- 
 azon. . . . Supposing that there were discovered 
 some means of making your fraca from the white 
 hevea, all that output of rubber from the delta, as 
 good as the up-river rubber? If there were such a 
 process, wouldn't it be valuable!'' 
 
 Guimaraes regarded him thoughtfully. **A 
 process — things that you can do to the latex ? ' ' 
 
 '^Precisely! Things I do to it." 
 
 *'I imagined that it was something like that. 
 Yes, of course it would be valuable. It would im- 
 mediately valorise all the product of the lower 
 river. And I, Para-bom, inheriting estates there, 
 naturally take a delighted interest. But I cannot 
 believe it can be done." 
 
 ^*I should not like to say that it can, in bulk 
 or with the latex of all the *red' and 'white' trees. 
 Of course you know that that 's the basis of all our 
 difficulty with our plantation rubber in the East. 
 We treat it beautifully, with exact science, and 
 yet it still mills unequally, and hasn't got the 
 elasticity and tensile strength of the stuff pro- 
 duced and cured here by the most primitive 
 method on earth. . . . The plantation product 
 hasn't the same market, on that account. That's 
 what I have tried to remedy. I won't say defi- 
 nitely that it can be done in quantity. But I have 
 great hopes. Look at this, feel it, pull it. That's 
 the poorest kind of white scrap, after a treatment 
 I have given it. ' ' 
 
 He handed Guimaraes the piece of dingy 
 
BLACK GOLD 185 
 
 substance lie still held in his hands. The other, 
 not enough of a technician to criticize this marvel, 
 pulled it about a little and tried to look wise. 
 
 '^This is the first time that I have got quite 
 near the results I want. But there is still some- 
 thing to be determined. ... If I had absolutely 
 completed my experiments, and perhaps if you 
 had been anyone else, I might have told you to 
 go to the devil just now.'' 
 
 **As it is, we may as well go into this together. 
 What are you going to do with your process when 
 you have completed it?" 
 
 **I haven't quite got to that yet." 
 
 **Precisely like you scientific men with one 
 idea! I suppose you would hand over the for- 
 mula to some indifferent government bureau and 
 they would put it into a pigeonhole for twenty 
 years." 
 
 **0h, not quite that ..." 
 
 ''Come, tell me, what would be the best thing 
 you could do, to get all possible benefit from the 
 process quickly?" 
 
 ''Install equipment for treating the fresh milk 
 in quantity," Ware said quickly. "Of course, 
 that would be easy enough in the East. I should 
 start to use it there myself. There the milk can 
 be taken to central factories as soon as it's col- 
 lected. It should be done while the milk is fresh, 
 during the coagulating process, although I have 
 got fair results with very poor stuff that had been 
 coagulated ten days before — ^this for instance, 
 from Santarem." 
 
 "Yes — I discovered a few days ago that you 
 were importing rubber to the seringal," Gui- 
 maraes interjected. 
 
 "Of course, in your delta region, with the 
 
186 BLACK GOLD 
 
 curing done by individuals, in small quantities, 
 and over great distances, it's a different problem. 
 But even if it could be brought to central factories 
 once a week. ... It would have to be thought 
 out." 
 
 **Very well. If you think that would be feas- 
 ible, I will go in with you," said the Brazilian. **I 
 will keep your secret, and I will find the capital 
 for installations in Para territory, if you will give 
 me the use of the process on a business basis — ^I 
 won't say in return for my discretion; I am really 
 not trying to drive a bargain with you. ' ' 
 
 ** There's no reason why you shouldn't," Ware 
 smiled. **But I shall be delighted if you will un- 
 dertake the active use of the process. I warn you 
 that I do not believe it can be kept secret for very 
 long, and personally I have no idea of making any 
 mystery, after I am once sure that I have really 
 got it." 
 
 **Very well. Then you would have no objection 
 to giving me — ^I don't know just what it should 
 be called? An option, shall we say, for the work- 
 ing rights of your method? As far as the lower 
 Amazon is concerned?" 
 
 ** Yes, if you will at the same time give me your 
 undertaking to make all possible use of it. It is 
 exceedingly simple . . . largely a question of 
 manipulation. There's nothing needed but the 
 proper machinery, a lot of water at the right tem- 
 perature, and one cheap chemical." 
 
 Guimaraes took out a notebook and fountain 
 pen and began to write, saying between sentences, 
 *'We can settle details and legal points later. But 
 this will serve meanwhile. ... No doubt you are 
 right about the impossibility of keeping the proc- 
 ess secret, but one need fear very few rivals in 
 
BLACK GOLD 187 
 
 industry on the Amazon. Everybody here wants 
 to make fortunes by juggling with figures." 
 
 ^*You would have to start factories on a com- 
 mercial scale. It means a lot of work in organ- 
 izing. Are you prepared to do that?" 
 
 '^Yes. I am not so devoted to politics. That 
 life requires a special temperament. I wish to be 
 happy. . . . Besides, I think our party is going 
 to be beaten at the election." Eeplying to Ware's 
 look, he added, **Yes, I know what I said an hour 
 ago. But now I am telling you what I think. We 
 are immensely outnumbered. Evaristo says he 
 has something in reserve, but I doubt. ' ' 
 
 * 'Politics are a fearful bore," the Englishman 
 thought. *' Especially when there are upsets that 
 interfere with your work. ' ' This was, in fact, his 
 main attitude to political problems. 
 
 Affonso Guimaraes stood upon the threshold to 
 get light as he wrote. 
 
 *'For the present, my dear fellow, it will be as 
 well to continue to maintain the same discretion 
 that you have already tried to exercise. For, how- 
 ever useful your discovery will be to the world at 
 large, we may be sure that our dealers in the 
 famous up-river rubber are not going to be pleased 
 about it. It will spoil their monopoly." 
 
 '* Probably. Yes. But one need not consider 
 dealers only." 
 
 **That is exactly my feeling. Still, until we are 
 ready it is as well to be careful." 
 
 They exchanged signatures, stooping over an 
 upturned barrel that stood near the door and 
 served for a desk. Alfonso, glancing out to the 
 bright clearing with its ring of tall trees, tangled 
 with parasites in gaudy masses, remarked that 
 Ware had chosen his retreat well. ''It's an excel- 
 
188 BLACK GOLD 
 
 lent place for experiments. No one has, I am sure, 
 thought it odd that you should spend so much 
 time here, and not a soul but Evaristo and my- 
 self has any idea that your doings might be of 
 any special interest to Manaos. . . . The only 
 person who has had the least chance of access to 
 my papers is my secretary, young Souza, and he 
 is too stupid to take any notice.'* 
 
 ''You are sure of thatT' 
 
 **0h, quite! That's why I chose him. And be- 
 cause, too, he has for years cherished a passion 
 for my cousin Leona, and therefore has the most 
 urgent reasons for placating me with all the 
 inside news he can bring from the conspiring 
 household of his dear papa . . . ah, if he were only 
 intelligent he could have been really useful. But 
 alas ! he is nothing but a pocket mirror as regards 
 himself and a shadow as regards Leona." 
 
 Ware laughed, sauntering out into the sun 
 with the young politician, who made his way 
 through the bushes saying that his party would 
 return from the seringal soon. ''I must not keep 
 them waiting. ... I hope to see you in the city 
 soon, my friend." They parted with a cordial 
 abrago. 
 
 When the others returned from the forest to the 
 landing stage, Affonso lay fast asleep under the 
 awnings of the boat, lapped by the lazy little 
 waves of the black water under the shade of arch- 
 ing trees. 
 
 J 
 
XV 
 
 RETURNING from a prolonged rehearsal that 
 had gone badly on account of the gaps in the 
 personnel, Francina climbed the bare wooden 
 stairs of the hotel, swathed in darkness by com- 
 parison with the blinding glare outside. She 
 spoke over her shoulder to Margarita. 
 
 **How in the world am I to break it to my 
 precious consort that his very prettiest chorus 
 girl has vanished!'' she demanded. **Did you 
 hear what Laroche said? He's sure she has gone 
 to that big good-looking Portuguese rubber mer- 
 chant, you know, one of those amiable creatures 
 who took us for a drive the first night! He's got 
 a huge white marble house on the Flores tram 
 line." 
 
 * * Giulia seems to know all about it, ' ' Margarita 
 thought. *'She was frightfully excited, and said 
 she 'd had a letter, and Graziela was quite safe and 
 very happy." 
 
 **0h, good heavens! Safe and happy!" Fran- 
 cina cried. Then, shrugging her shoulders, she re- 
 marked that at this rate they would need a new 
 chorus every ten days, and told Margarita to go 
 and lie down for ten minutes before lunch. '*I 
 must see how Salvie is. . . . You look worn out, 
 Margie. Don't you dare to get ill." 
 
 Pulling off her shady hat, she sauntered into 
 the wide room where Salvatore lay on the tossed 
 bed, his stretched figure dimly seen through the 
 heavy white veil of the mosquito netting, The 
 
 189 
 
190 BLACK GOLD 
 
 shntters were nearly closed, but through narrow 
 cracks poured shafts of yellow dancing light. 
 
 She stepped quietly to the bedside, parted the^ 
 mosquito bar, and looked down upon her hus- 
 band. His face, deeply flushed, was turned 
 towards her. His eyes were shut and he breathed 
 stertorously. His arms were flung wide and the 
 collar of his cotton pajamas was open, showing 
 the swarthy neck with its prominent Adam's 
 apple. He had not been shaved for two days, and 
 a blue-black stubble covered the lower part of his 
 face; a mop of unkempt black hair was tossed 
 back from his burning forehead. 
 
 Francina surveyed him for a couple of long 
 minutes, her lips pressed together. Plainly he 
 was in no condition to be told of troubles. An 
 expression of distaste clouded her fair face, and, 
 dropping the edges of the netting, she turned to 
 go from the room; some movement caught the at- 
 tention of the uneasy sleeper, and he suddenly 
 opened brilliant, bloodshot eyes upon her, start- 
 ing up from the pillow and at once sinking back 
 weakly. 
 
 She stood still and spoke gently. Did he want 
 anything? 
 
 '* Something cold to drink, for the love of 
 God!" he muttered, and added something under 
 his breath as he began to shiver. Was he to lie 
 there and die Kke a dog in this rotten place? The 
 quinine — where was the quinine? 
 
 She looked about, gingerly handled the group 
 of bottles and little boxes on the marble-topped 
 table by the bedside, and stared helplessly at the 
 labels. While she searched, Salvatore, with a pal- 
 lid face and blue lips, shut his eyes again and 
 seemed to sink into the bed, to shrink and become 
 
BLACK GOLD 191 
 
 bloodless. Rather alarmed, she went out: she 
 would call the old woman who had been fetched 
 to nurse him, she would send again for the doc- 
 tor. Francina feared illness for herself and hated 
 it in other people; it opened vistas from which 
 she fled. Nothing but her instinct for outwardly 
 at least doing the right thing ever dragged her 
 to a bedside. 
 
 On the turn of the stairs she met Feliciano, 
 greeting him with immense relief. *'0h, Felici- 
 ano, the senhor is very ill! "Where is Maria? She 
 should not leave him! Eating almogo? Do go and 
 look at him, Feliciano, and give him some qui- 
 nine. Stay there, please, and I will send again for 
 the doctor.'' 
 
 Courtly, alert and efificient, the camereiro as- 
 sured the lady that he would do all things on 
 earth for her. The senhor merely had a touch of 
 fever; it would pass. Let her not be troubled. 
 He would go at once to him. She gave him a 
 seraphic smile and went down the stairs, looking 
 into the deserted dining room where a barefoot 
 boy was hastily arranging plates with a tremen- 
 dous clatter. As she reached the last step the Ital- 
 ian manager emerged hastily from the reception 
 room on the other side of the little hallway, and 
 clasped his hands together, bowing low, at the 
 sight of her. 
 
 A thousand pardons! He was just coming to 
 seek Madame Antonelli! He begged her most 
 kind attention for a moment. He breathed this in 
 a stage whisper, an eye turned to the door he had 
 just left. If madame permitted, there was a mes- 
 senger here, beseeching the favor of two minutes' 
 interview. He was in the salon, if madame would 
 condescend! No one should interrupt. 
 
192 BLACK GOLD 
 
 She stared coolly at the man, a little amused 
 by his air of excitement about a trifle. '^What 
 does he want? You have his cardT' 
 
 ** Madame, he is from a very — a very distin- 
 guished — ^person, and if the lady will pardon, he 
 has no card, only begging for a word, a 
 moment." 
 
 Francina considered for a few seconds, then 
 turned to the door, instantly opened by the obse- 
 quious manager. On the threshold she stopped to 
 tell him to send the old Maria to her husband, 
 and to forbid her to leave him, enjoying as she 
 spoke the nervous anxiety of the man, obviously 
 dying to get her safely into the room with the 
 door shut. 
 
 Inside, the room was shaded, and at a far win- 
 dow by the crack of the shutter stood a very slim 
 young man, a small-waisted dandy with a long 
 melancholy face and dark eyes, of a type so fre- 
 quent that she could not remember whether she 
 had seen this particular youth before. He came 
 forward at once, steering past the double row of 
 rockers that almost filled the room, a large cane 
 settee at the head of the intimidating array. 
 
 ** Madame!" The. young man stood with his 
 tiny buttoned boots pressed close together, his 
 hat upon his heart, as he bent his sleek dark head. 
 Francina sat down upon the nearest chair and re- 
 garded him with inquiry. He burst into rapid 
 French. 
 
 ** Madame, permit me to convey a message. I 
 am desolated to intrude upon madame in such 
 haste . . . there was no time for writing! You 
 are entreated to pardon the informality ... of 
 your great kindness, to forgive the apparent dis- 
 regard of les convenances " 
 
BLACK GOLD 193 
 
 ''Don't trouble to apologize any more. You 
 brought a verbal message. What is it, and from 
 whomf 
 
 Thus caught up sharply, the young man came 
 at once to the point. 
 
 ''Madame de Freitas begs jou to take lunch 
 with her. To come now, to her house. A carriage 
 is waiting at the door. ' ' 
 
 Francina's cool blue eyes met the intelligent 
 dark glance of the young man. She thought 
 quickly. All this flurry about a lunch invitation 
 from an old lady? But for Madame de Freitas, 
 who she knew did not like her very well and who 
 was the soul of punctiliousness, to send a hasty 
 verbal message that ignored Francina's husband 
 and sister, was a matter whose oddity was empha- 
 sized by this absurd agitation. She stood up and 
 said briefly, "I am sorry, but my husband has 
 fever, and I cannot leave him. It is most kind, 
 but '' 
 
 The young man broke in. "Madame, I beg you! 
 If madame y7"ill permit me one more word! His 
 excellency begs you '' He stopped. 
 
 *'His excellency?" 
 : *' Yes, madame." 
 
 *'He is at the house of Madame de Freitas?" 
 
 "He will go there in a few moments, as soon as 
 he knows " 
 
 "I see." Francina smiled. She walked to the 
 door and spoke with a calm formality. "I regret 
 very much not to accept this kindness. But my 
 family duties prevent." 
 
 The young man turned paler. His eyes were 
 agonized. "Ah, but madame " 
 
 She went on without heeding him. "However, 
 after almoQO I will give myself the pleasure of 
 
194 BLACK GOLD 
 
 calling upon dear madame for a moment if it is 
 convenient for her to receive me." 
 
 She left him without another word and re- 
 turned to the upper rooms, meeting Bianca on the 
 landing and sweeping that lady in her wake as 
 she sought the depleted company. A glance into 
 Salvatore's room showed the old Maria sitting 
 beside the bed ceaselessly waving a fan to and 
 fro before the mosquito netting. 
 
 After lunch, a silent meal at which Laroche as 
 well as the women displayed signs of wilting in 
 the heavy heat, Francina waited for some twenty 
 minutes until her party had disappeared into 
 their rooms for the siesta, and then sent a mes- 
 sage to the hotel manager to request a carriage. 
 He came instantly to tell her, with manifold bows 
 and sedulously blank eyes, that Madame de Frei- 
 tas ' carriage was waiting, having returned for the 
 senhora's convenience. She stepped in and was 
 driven through streets that blistered visibly in 
 the drenching glare. Blue shadows lay on the 
 sides of the silent and shuttered houses, and 
 hardly a soul but some barefoot laborer was to 
 be seen. 
 
 Arrived, she was shown into a long room that 
 opened on to a wide veranda and garden, seen in 
 green and flowery cracks through the shutters. 
 Leona de Freitas, beautifully dressed, with her 
 inevitable appearance of an expensive doll, came 
 forward murmuring courtesies, her long white 
 eyelids almost shut. She conveyed the apologies, 
 for a moment, of her aunt, who was lying down, 
 but would come inmiediately to express her great 
 pleasure. . . . She melted from the room, and 
 before the door had quite closed, it reopened to 
 admit Evaristo da Cunha, 
 
BLACK GOLD 195 
 
 He stood still and looked at Francina; she sat 
 back and regarded him with negligent compo- 
 sure, covering her acute curiosity. 
 
 **You are offended T' he asked very gently. 
 
 **I am not sure." 
 
 He came forward quickly. **Ah, do not be! 
 If you knew how I have longed to see you — and I 
 have been, am still, not only terribly occupied, but 
 so much surrounded, so much watched. Already 
 my admiration for you has attracted attention, 
 and I did not wish to compromise you in the 
 slightest. But I need your presence, your voice — 
 I have been nearly mad . . . ready to risk al- 
 most any indiscretion " 
 
 ** Except putting your pen to paper,'' muttered 
 the lady. But he did not hear her and went on: 
 * 'Almost anything, to talk alone with you.'' He 
 stopped, came nearer until he stood over her, and 
 bending his head, whispered: '*Do you know that 
 this is the first time we have ever been really 
 alone? Alone and out of sight of other people?'* 
 
 He lifted her hand and kissed it, but kept his 
 eyes on her face. **I love you, I love you," he 
 said, very slowly. 
 
 **Is that all? You have said that many times 
 when we weren't alone." She raised candidly re- 
 proachful eyes to him. **I thought perhaps there 
 was something — that something had happened, 
 of importance. That is why I came." 
 
 '* There is. Or I should not have presumed to 
 ask for this," he agreed at once. *' Something has 
 happened. A political matter. I am sure you 
 would not care to know. But it is imperative that 
 someone goes to Paris at once: to arrange a piece 
 of financial business. It is immediate. My party 
 wishes me to g( 
 
196 BLACK GOLD 
 
 She interrupted him. '*I thought there was to 
 be an election? You are concerned in that? You 
 must be heref 
 
 **Yes, yes, on the twenty-fourth. I must see 
 that through, and then go at once — if I go. 
 There *s a boat — the Sonho, due to leave here that 
 day. It need not be known that I go. My enemies 
 would make political capital of it. I can arrange 
 that the Sonho will leave during the day as usual 
 but will have a little machinery trouble and wait 
 for me a few miles down the Amazon. I can join 
 her quietly by launch." 
 
 He was speaking almost as if arguing it out to 
 himself, and stopped at sight of her raised eye- 
 brows. *'You are wondering why I tell you all 
 these details, this small intriguing. It is because 
 I hope, I pray, I beseech Heaven, that there may 
 be another reason for discretion than that of 
 local politics.'' 
 
 Again she interrupted him quickly. **Are not 
 local politics everything to you? They say you 
 care for nothing but power. . . . Aren't you to be 
 governor?" 
 
 **I? Oh, no! Never! Never! "We are putting in 
 one of the Guimaraes, the fat one, you know, 
 Hermenegildo. He is vain, the idea appeals to 
 him. But for me, no ! One is too much of a target. 
 It is so much better, so much more a permanent 
 power, to pull the strings from behind the cur- 
 tain. At least not to receive all the arrows." He 
 had stood upright as he spoke, but now bent over 
 her again and dropped his voice. 
 
 **But this Paris journey. I have not decided 
 to go, in spite of all that depends upon it." 
 
 *'What depends upon it?" 
 
 i 
 
BLACK GOLD 197 
 
 *'Tou would not understand or care. A matter 
 of finance '' 
 
 **How do you know I should not understand? 
 You said that before. Tell me. I wish to know.'^ 
 She seemed a little piqued, and he yielded at once. 
 
 **It's a delicate piece of business concerned 
 with a loan. It has been contemplated for some 
 time. One can, madame, always depend upon get- 
 ting money in Paris or London for any scheme so 
 long as it is sufficiently far away from Paris and 
 London. And we have had in view a most inter- 
 esting plan for raising quite a large sum to — let 
 me think. Yes, there are two or three great pieces 
 of public work. One was to canalize all Amazonas 
 in order to prevent the yearly floods. Another plan 
 was to build asphalt paths through the rubber 
 forests — excellent ideas, believe me. Nothing was 
 done about it with our knowledge, though. And 
 now we hear that the late governor presented the 
 plan to some great European bankers and actu- 
 ally got an advance. Naturally, we are very anx- 
 ious. We must find out, save what we can.'' He 
 stopped again on seeing the trace of a smile on 
 Francina's face, took her hand again, and spoke 
 in an altered tone. 
 
 *'Why do you not let me speak? Of the thing 
 I want to say? Do you know why I have still 
 hesitated to say I will go? Do you know?'' 
 
 She did not answer. He went on, his eyes on 
 her face: '*Yes, you do know. Because I cannot 
 leave you. Because I cannot see my life and yours 
 separated, because I do not know how to face the 
 days without the sound of your voice. The need 
 I have for you, your person, your presence, is 
 more than all the plans I have laid for years." 
 
198 BLACK GOLD 
 
 As he stooped before her, Francina looked 
 across his shoulder to the long shutter, where a 
 shaft of golden-green light filtered through a 
 screen of leaves, hung with the orange-red tassels 
 of some tropic vine. Her eyes rested upon the leaf 
 mosaic idly, perhaps to avoid the small surrender 
 of meeting Evaristo's insistent look, and it was 
 thus that she plainly saw a gentle stir among a 
 cluster of the foliage, and a (Jark eye that showed 
 oddly for a long second before the leaves closed 
 again. Someone was trying to listen, someone 
 was spying there. . . . Did Evaristo know? He, 
 the omniscient, in a house of his own clan, surely 
 himself ordered any such work ! She made up her 
 mind hastily that the owner of the eyes was some 
 creature of Evaristo 's own possessing, and that 
 for some reason a record was being made of this 
 interview. She flushed with a mingling of cool 
 amusement and genuine anger, but made no sign, 
 saying when he stopped speaking, ''You should 
 not say this. ' ' 
 
 He accepted this as the proper convention and 
 bore it down with enthusiasm. '*I must tell you! 
 Because it is my life, and I must make you listen 
 to me. You are listening! Beautiful Francina, 
 when I go you must come with me, with me, do 
 you hearT' 
 
 She was taken aback by his sudden frankness. 
 ''With your' 
 
 '*Yes." He kissed her hands again and began 
 to talk quickly, his voice low as always, his face 
 very pale. He knew what she had said the other 
 night, and she could make any terms she wanted 
 ... a divorce could be arranged, if she liked. 
 Anything, but he adored her and needed her. As 
 she listened, her attention half upon the gold- 
 
BLACK GOLD 199 
 
 green leafy shaft of the window, she saw again 
 the stir of leaves as a hand parted the vine. 
 
 At once she stood up, backed away from Evar- 
 isto towards the window until her shoulder 
 almost touched the shutter, and spoke slowly and 
 clearly. 
 
 '^Senhor da Cunha, I will try to forget what 
 you have said. For a moment you have been care- 
 less of my position as an honorable wife, of my 
 responsibilities in a foreign city, with my sister 
 in my charge and other young girls " 
 
 ** There are not many young girls left to need 
 your care, madame,'' returned Evaristo calmly. 
 *^At this very moment the little red-haired one — 
 Giuliaf — is being decently married to the agent 
 for the Italian line. Come, I beg you, let us 
 deal with this as between ourselves. Your fate is 
 in your own hands. I am sure you know that I 
 love you madly. I believe you like me. I offer you 
 my life, I put myself into your little hands. Ah, 
 Francina, most beautiful, I can give you love." 
 He ceased abruptly, his voice trembling and gen- 
 tle as he said the last words. Francina glanced 
 at the leaves behind her shoulder, saw them flut- 
 ter, and felt her vain and rather gusty temper 
 arise. She had come here in none too pleased a 
 mood, and the thought of this audience in the 
 vines at the window, brought here for who knew 
 what obscure purpose, annoyed and alarmed her. 
 Some hint, too, of cool assurance in Evaristo 's 
 attitude, despite his words of humility, offended 
 her. No harm, at any rate, would be done by 
 maintaining a correct pose. She walked with dig- 
 nity to the door and repeated coldly, **I will try 
 to forget this.'' 
 
 Perhaps the politician regarded this display as 
 
200 BLACK GOLD 
 
 a fita, a theatre play in keeping with the lady's 
 value. He did not appear abashed, and was follow- 
 ing her to the door when it opened and Madame de 
 Freitas appeared, voluble, sharp-eyed, full of 
 apologies for keeping her guest waiting, but over- 
 joyed to see her. . . . She had had tea made d 
 VAnglaise, and it was just ready on the veranda. 
 She led the way through a corridor to the broad 
 and shaded veranda, hung with bougainvillea 
 and coral vine and the orange-red tassels of some 
 luxuriant creeper that ran all along the house. 
 Eecognizing this flower, Francina noted, making 
 rapid calculations, that the far end of this ve- 
 randa must open into the room she had just left. 
 No one, of course, now stood by these windows. 
 From the garden came two young people: the 
 dainty Leona and Domingos Souza, he gaily re- 
 fusing tea and making his adieux with ceremony. 
 He was evidently paying assiduous court to the 
 beauty, Francina noted, and decided in spite of 
 her lively suspicions of everybody, that under the 
 circumstances it could not be Domingos who had 
 spied. **He is much too silly and too much in 
 love,'' she said to herself. 
 
 Here, however, she wronged the young man. 
 For, returning to the hotel an hour later, when all 
 the colors of Manaos took on an unearthly loveli- 
 ness after the withdrawal of the sun's glare, she 
 stepped from the carriage to find Domingos wait- 
 ing at the hotel door to hand her in. He bowed 
 low before her, said simply, ** Madame, my father 
 is waiting to see you," and almost hustled the 
 lady into the reception room. Looking at the bent 
 back of the portly Domingos Souza pere, it 
 seemed to Francina in the midst of her legitimate 
 
BLACK GOLD 201 
 
 annoyance that these last hours were a scene in 
 some ridiculous farce, in which she was always 
 being hurried into rooms to receive the urgings 
 of agitated gentlemen. 
 
 Her new visitor wasted no time in apologies. 
 ''Madame, I will keep you but a few moments, '^ 
 he assured her. ''But when you have heard me I 
 think you will pardon what would, without some 
 good reason, be an intrusion." She nearly told 
 him that she was inured to intrusions, but re- 
 pressed speech for the moment, convinced that 
 this man at least had something to say. She took 
 the pins from her big hat and pushed her hair 
 back from her face, chose the settee as the only 
 firm piece of furniture, and motioned the elderly 
 Souza to her side. 
 
 "No doubt," she said, "it is a business matter 
 connected with the theatre. Tell me at once, 
 please. I am very tired." 
 
 "It is a business matter," he said at once. "I 
 will be quite open with madame. She has just 
 rejected the suggestion made to her by — ^by a 
 certain distinguished person. Madame, if you will 
 change your mind, ten thousand pounds shall be 
 placed in the London and Brazilian Bank to your 
 credit at ten o'clock to-morrow morning." 
 
 It was a farce. She resisted an impulse to 
 laugh, and pleated the ribbon on her hat, remain- 
 ing silent. 
 
 "Let me give madame a few minutes to think. 
 I have surprised her." 
 
 "Nothing surprises me here," said Francina. 
 "Naturally, however, I am shocked and indig- 
 nant. Also, I am curious. What are your reasons f 
 And first, how do you know that anything has 
 
202 BLACK GOLD 
 
 passed between myself and the person of whom 
 you speak?" 
 
 ' The portly gentleman threw out his hands. 
 ''When one is dealing with such intriguing polit- 
 icos, one must know everything. This person, 
 madame '^ 
 
 '*Is your bitter political enemy/' she broke in. 
 ''Why then, Dr. Souza, should you be willing to 
 pay such a sum to — how shall we put it? — to help 
 him to secure something he wants?" 
 
 "We are willing to use that sum to get him out 
 of Manaos, madame. We believe that he meant 
 it when he said he would not go away without you. 
 He has a madness. It is not strange. ' ' She waved 
 aside this rather heavy gallantry. 
 
 "Why do you want him out of Manaos?" 
 
 "Politics. Madame would not be interested." 
 Again! Politics were not for women, it seemed. 
 
 "Under ordinary circumstances, no," she said. 
 "But I repeat that I am very curious. Don't you 
 think that since you make me such an extraordi- 
 nary proposition, a distinctly intimate one, that 
 you should tell me the truth about it?" 
 
 He appeared stung, grieved. "The truth! But 
 madame! Have I not already laid my cards quite 
 frankly on the table? We trust you very thor- 
 oughly, madame. Certainly I will explain more. 
 Evaristo, now, has gone too far. He is not con- 
 tent with the swing of the political pendulum. 
 He wants to rule. He and his party have had 
 their turn, and he is persuading them to intrigue 
 in order to stay in power. As a matter of fact, 
 however, we can defeat him at the election on the 
 twenty-fourth, and our plans are all laid for it. 
 We are going to beat him." He spoke positively. 
 
BLACK GOLD 203 
 
 **Very well, then why are you taking any more 
 trouble r' 
 
 ** Because he will be enraged, and if he stays 
 here he will employ all the months before we 
 actually assume of&ce in making trouble and plot- 
 ting, if he^s here he will never accept the situa- 
 tion. He is capable of making a revolt. He is a 
 firebrand without fear or scruple. He might 
 plunge Amazonas into disorder that would injure 
 our international credit. ..." 
 
 **I see. I am to take him away and soothe 
 him." 
 
 *^ Madame," said the respectable-looking citi- 
 zen, **you are the one person in the world, at pres- 
 ent, who can do it. Please remember, our party is 
 quite willing to be reasonable. We are perfectly 
 ready to let him have the handling of the French 
 loan — a very nice piece of business. And in a few 
 years' time no doubt he will be in office again. 
 But now it is our turn." 
 
 Francina reflected. **And for the sake of these 
 political schemes, you ask me to destroy my 
 domestic happiness," she said with a hint of 
 reproach. 
 
 *'Not unless the lady chooses," responded 
 Souza pere briskly. **We have also thought of 
 that. We respect the fine feeling of madame. It 
 has been considered. In fact, we will do every- 
 thing to protect her, to preserve appearances. If 
 madame wishes I will take the same care of her 
 as of my own daughter." 
 
 For once in her life Francina was startled. 
 
 ** Really, Senhor Doutor! I am to run away 
 from my husband with another man and yet pre- 
 serve appearances 1 How is that 1 ' ' 
 
204 BLACK GOLD 
 
 The citizen mopped a moist brow, but main- 
 tained his even and businesslike tone as he pro- 
 ceeded to explain. ** Madame could so easily 
 leave the boat at Para. Without observation: we 
 could arrange that. And as far as Para, and back 
 again here too, if madame wishes, I will guar- 
 antee the companionship of a married lady of our 
 party. ' ' 
 
 Francina looked into the anxious round eyes of 
 the plotter, sat back in the corner of the settee, 
 and laughed unaffectedly. **0h, senhor, this is 
 delicious!" She wiped her eyes. ^^ Suppose I 
 were so charmed with the — the person — that I 
 didn't leave the boat at Paraf 
 
 ''That is entirely as the lady pleases. So long 
 as we get him away from Manaos. ' ' 
 
 ''But, finding himself flouted, he might come 
 back from Para.'' 
 
 "No. He would look too foolish. He could not 
 face the town, because then you see the tale 
 would get about. We should see to it that he was 
 a laughing stock. Besides, if as I said discretion 
 were used in madame 's leaving the boat, he 
 would know nothing until the steamer was out at 
 sea ... on the way to Europe, with Lisbon as the 
 first stop. If madame will work with us, we can 
 easily arrange all things; a reason for her family, 
 for going to Para, and everything for her com- 
 fort on board ship, where, of course, the person 
 would be more than willing to agree with 
 madame 's discretions. ' ' 
 
 She studied the toe of her white slipper, and 
 said in a moment, "I am very tired. Please leave 
 me. I have much to do . . . the theatre ..." 
 
 He stood up at once, but watched her face with 
 anxiety, 
 
BLACK GOLD 205 
 
 *'May I send a note — discreetly— to-morrow, 
 asking for madame's reply T' 
 
 *'0h, all these discretions!" she smiled. **Ah, 
 senhor, you are the enemy of this man. How do I 
 know that things are as you say?" 
 
 He was agitated, roused to immediate protests. 
 * 'Madame, I can prove this to you without 
 trouble. Would you take the word of Custodio 
 de Freitas f You know him better than you know 
 me. Yes? Very well. Custodio and I went to 
 school together many years before Manaos had 
 any politics, and although we are to-day on oppo- 
 site sides, we are still good friends. I assure you 
 that he too thinks that the person we speak of has 
 gone too far, that he is a too disturbing element. 
 It is Custodio 's group who want him to go to 
 Paris as much as we do. They dislike extremes. 
 Will you ask him?" 
 
 'Terhaps. I don't know." 
 
 Domingos Souza pere took a resolution. As he 
 opened the door he said in a low voice to the de- 
 parting lady, '*The sum I mentioned will be 
 placed to madame 's credit to-morrow. ' ' 
 
 She made no response, but climbed the stairs. 
 As she reached the top Margarita met her. *'0h, 
 Francie, have you heard about Giulia? Where 
 have you been all the afternoon?" 
 
 *' Talking politics. You would not understand," 
 said Francina mechanically and with a faint 
 smile. 
 
XVI 
 
 THE next few days passed like a nightmare 
 to the opera company. They gave * * Rigoletto ' ' 
 on a night of oppressive and noisome heat, when 
 malaria hung almost visibly in the airless streets. 
 The going down of the sun seemed to release 
 inimical vapors, and from the pavements the con- 
 centrated heat of noon rose in suffocating waves, 
 so that the night was hotter than the day. In 
 the theatre, audience and performers candidly 
 wiped perspiring faces and necks, and although 
 bouquets stood like thickets at the doors of tho 
 girls' dressing rooms, they were too much re- 
 duced in spirit to accept these trophies with 
 coquetry. It needed at least a diamond ring, 
 anathema to Salvatore, but not impossible now 
 that he lay low, to win a smile from a maiden. 
 
 A day or two after Salvatore 's collapse, one of 
 the Italian girls, a tiny creature with an exquisite 
 figure, took to her bed with sighs and lamenta- 
 tions that she should have left her beloved Rome 
 to die of horrible diseases at the ends of the 
 earth. The assiduous doctor pronounced nothing 
 to be the matter with her, but she refused to get 
 up. With Beatriz and Graziela gone, this left but 
 one maiden of the chorus, a charming but voice- 
 less little gypsy, for the eyes of Manaos. 
 
 Salvatore, fevered and fretting, alternated 
 between days of raging temperature, when he 
 became more than half light-headed and cursed 
 
 206 
 
BLACK GOLD 207 
 
 his transitory neighbor, and others of shivering 
 subjection, when he sat, a bleached and haggard 
 figure, by his balcony. He learnt the trick of 
 tying a towel round his neck and right wrist to 
 steady a shaking hand, and drank champagne on 
 the advice of his Swiss friend of the boat. When 
 it became plain that' he could not summon suffi- 
 cient vitality to shake oif the fever, it was decided 
 that he should go to Para, to meet the incoming 
 Italian boat, old fever experts of the upper river 
 declaring that the recurrent seizures would leave 
 him as soon as he was on the water, and that he 
 would return cured. He was carried aboard a 
 Para-bound steamer with the young tenor to look 
 after him. 
 
 The remnants of the company held council and 
 arranged to give on the following night, instead 
 of opera, a musical evening that would be a guar- 
 antee of good faith to Manaos. Some songs, a 
 violin obligato or two, and a couple of scenes 
 demanding only two or three voices. Laroche 
 depended largely upon the kindliness of the 
 Amazon audience, the most receptive on earth. 
 
 But upon the morning of that day, which co- 
 incided with that of the Manaos election, Mar- 
 garita opened her eyes and looked straight into 
 those of her sister, standing with a pale and seri- 
 ous face beside her bed, a pink wrapper thrown 
 over her nightdress. 
 
 ''Francie! Is anything the matter? Is it lateT' 
 
 '*No, no! It's very early," Francina said im- 
 patiently. She sat down on the edge of Mar- 
 garita's bed and folded her hands together in her 
 lap. ^*' Margarita, I am going to take the boat for 
 Para that leaves this morning." She delivered 
 this in a cool, dry voice, looking full at her sister, 
 
208 BLACK GOLD 
 
 who stared in astonishment and made no 
 response. In a moment Francina went on more 
 airily: 
 
 ''You'll be all right here. You can look after 
 yourself '' 
 
 *'0f course! You won't be gone long!" cried 
 Margarita, suddenly seeing an explanation. ''Oh, 
 poor Francie, you are worried to death about Sal- 
 vatore!" She sat up, her little nightdress slip- 
 ping from her shoulder, her young face flushed 
 with sympathy. Francina did not reply to this, 
 but folded her hands closer and seemed to with- 
 draw herself almost imperceptibly; she looked 
 down at her slippered feet and murmured; "Of 
 course ..." 
 
 "How long will you be gone? Not much more 
 than a week, if Salvie's fever is better, and the 
 chorus arrives all right on the Orlando V^ Fran- 
 cina opened her lips and shut them again with- 
 out speaking. A knock sounded, the door opened, 
 and Feliciano brought in coffee, his dark face 
 beaming, his hair a mop of black curls. Taking 
 her cup, Margarita was suddenly struck with a 
 terrifying thought: "Francie! How on earth can 
 I sing without you! And what in the world will 
 poor Jean Laroche do I" 
 
 Francie shrugged her shoulders; her face 
 cleared, and she dismissed the shadow that had 
 hung about her. "He could arrange some other 
 things," she said lightly. "But why should you 
 sing if you don't want to? Let them call it off if 
 you're frightened." 
 
 "We've promised, " Margarita cried, protesting. 
 
 "Margie darling, do remember that there are 
 much more important things in the world than 
 singing — than singing because you've promised 
 
BLACK GOLD 209 
 
 to." She poured hot milk into the aromatic black 
 coffee and drank little sips daintily. '* Margie, 
 you are going to marry Affonso, aren't you"?" 
 
 Margarita langhed out loud. *'0h! Must I 
 marry someone?'' 
 
 **Yes, of course you must, sooner or later. Yon 
 have to think of the future, dear child. You are 
 not dreaming of earning your living — ^by singing, 
 are you? Perhaps, with luck, you might make 
 thirty shillings a week ... I know all about that! 
 These last four years!" She flushed: her eyes 
 brooded. 
 
 ^^ Margie, being poor, wretchedly poor, when 
 other people have got things! I suppose it 
 wouldn't hurt half so much if they hadn't. I 
 don't believe you see them, now, but you would 
 someday. . . . You don 't want to go back to San- 
 soe and typ^ out father's books for him, do you?" 
 
 ^'Dear Sansoe!" murmured Margarita, pouring 
 sugar on her toasted roll. 
 
 Francina looked at her sister's face with a 
 queer smile and went on speaking a little im- 
 patiently: *'Yes, yes, I know you like it — but 
 for years and years and years? How could you 
 stand it? Don't think of it, dear. You are very 
 pretty, really quite as pretty as I am, and the 
 best thing you can do in order to — to realize on 
 your assets, you see, is to marry someone, and 
 now, while you have the chance, someone with 
 lots of money." 
 
 Margarita did not answer, and Francina, look- 
 ing at her steadily, delivered her creed evenly 
 and drily: 
 
 *^Do you remember what I said to you once — 
 that it was only worth while for a woman to be 
 a woman? I mean that from the bottom of my 
 
210 BLACK GOLD 
 
 heart. And to be a woman, really to get all there 
 is out of it, to live without being limited and en- 
 chained, you have to be indispensable to a first- 
 class kind of man. You have to choose carefully 
 — class and ability, I mean; but not to permit 
 yourself any silly fancies. They are only fancies, 
 ideas that women invent themselves, when they 
 think they like one man better than another, be- 
 cause all men are alike really as far as women are 
 concerned. They are all children . . . but they 
 have got the keys. Never have fancies about 
 them, Margarita! It doesn't matter a bit about 
 loving a man. The only important thing is that 
 he should love you." 
 
 She added after a moment's pause, in a lighter 
 voice: **Affonso is a very good sort indeed. He 
 has been mad about you for ever so long. I should 
 advise you to marry him at once, dear.'' 
 
 Margarita, rather inclined to tears although she 
 did not know why, said in a little voice: **I hadn't 
 thought about it, Francie." And then, instantly 
 feeling like a baby, added hastily: ** Alfonso is 
 an awfully good sort. I am ever so fond of him. 
 But after all we are foreigners to each other " 
 
 Francina laughed. **As if our family hadn't 
 always run to foreign alliances! Eeligion is much 
 more of a bone of contention than race, my dear, 
 and at least you and I were baptized good Catho- 
 lics, even if we are rather heathen." 
 
 As she leaned forward to take a spoonful of 
 soft sugar from the bowl, her little pink negligee 
 fell open and something that glittered swung 
 forward. To Margarita's exclamation: '^Oh, 
 Francie, how pretty ! Are they diamonds ? — do let 
 me look!" her first instinct was a quick gesture 
 to close the front of her wrapper, but she changed 
 
BLACK GOLD 211 
 
 her mind rapidly and lifted the long and spark- 
 ling chain, a bright stream that ran between her 
 fingers. 
 
 '*Yes. They are diamonds.'' She added with a 
 light laugh as she rose: 
 
 ^*I bought them yesterday.'' And went out of 
 the room. 
 
 Margarita took her shower bath, dressed hur- 
 riedly in pale muslins, went to Francina's room, 
 and found her packing with Feliciano's courtly 
 assistance. 
 
 **You are not going to take your big trunk, 
 Francief For those few days?" 
 
 **I don't know if it will be only a few days," 
 she returned impatiently. Margarita said no 
 other word of inquiry, helped her, and presently 
 they drove down to the floating dock. Francina 
 sat back in a corner of the-carriage, silent, smiling 
 mechanically at the frequent salutes that greeted 
 them, but hardly glancing at the streets. Arrived 
 at the ship's side, she refused to let Margarita go 
 aboard, kissed her hurriedly, told her to keep out 
 of the already ferocious sun, to go back to the 
 hotel and not to worry. 
 
 **You take life too seriously about little things, 
 dearest, and not half seriously enough about im- 
 portant things, like your complexion," she told 
 her sister, laughingly, her spirits suddenly recov- 
 ered. '^Good-by, darling!" 
 
 Margarita drove back with a sense of desola- 
 tion that she told herself was cowardly. But Sal- 
 vatore and Francina had gone to Para, and she 
 t had to encounter Affonso, who had suddenly ac- 
 I quired the proportions of an engulfing sort of 
 I problem, and as to John Ware — oh, no! she 
 I wasn't going to think about John Ware, she said, 
 
212 BLACK GOLD 
 
 when stricken with the quick memory of a fair 
 head that shone in the lamplight, and a voice that 
 had said, so hypocritically, to her: **If — ^yon want 
 anything — will you call me ? ' ' She put this aside, 
 and faced the thought of the evening, when she 
 had to sing, without Francina. 
 
 Just when she was about to enter the hotel 
 door, she caught sight of a man who trotted along 
 the middle of the white-hot road, a net of char- 
 coal and a bunch of half-ripe bananas on his 
 bent back. Vicente ! She hailed him as if he were 
 an old and beloved friend, her face alight with 
 smiles. 
 
 *^Bom dia, Vicente! Did yon come in to vote? 
 It is the day of election, nao eT' She waved him 
 into the bare reception room on the left of the 
 door with its double rows of cane rocking-chairs, 
 sat down and beamed upon the wooden-faced 
 caboclo, airing her halting Portuguese while he 
 replied in fragmentary English. 
 
 No, he answered seriously, he took no interest 
 in the election. Of what use? It made no differ- 
 ence to men like himself. A politica was the busi- 
 ness of those born to it. . . . He had come to get 
 stores for the patrao. 
 
 When was he returning? Not until to-morrow 
 morning. He had had to buy some things that 
 would not be ready until then. Did the senhora 
 wish to send any message? Oh, did she? It sud- 
 denly occurred to Margarita that she would, and 
 then that never, never could she — and it was 
 chiefly for the sake of saying something kindly 
 in reply that she answered: ** Perhaps. If I did, 
 where should I find you?*' The childish idea 
 crossed her mind that she would send John's tie 
 back to him. 
 
BLACK GOLD 213 
 
 Vicente was answering her gravely: ''During 
 the day I am much in the town or in my house on 
 the line of the Flores bond; at night I sleep in the 
 Boto very far up the igarape, where the patrao 
 keeps it always." 
 
 **Yes, yes, I remember.'' She saw before her 
 the little sandy path shadowed with dark trees 
 and patterned with sunlight, and the eyes of John 
 Ware, very blue and kind and comradely. 
 
 As Vicente stood, hat in hand, bowing himself 
 away, a crash of bells suddenly smote the air, a 
 peal that clanged a loud challenge. At that sound, 
 a group of men, sitting in the sunny restaurant 
 just across the open corridor, sprang to their 
 feet, cried out with a smother of Portuguese oaths 
 and exclamations, and ran to the door. Margarita 
 jumped up and ran too, looking from the thresh- 
 old into the wide square and seeing the figures 
 of men appear at doorways ; those who were walk- 
 ing in the road stopped as if electrified, exclaim- 
 ing and calling out to each other. As if by magic, 
 groups sprang into excited life in that blazing 
 space, everyone with an air of wonder or extreme 
 anger. 
 
 *^What is the matter?" the girl insisted in the 
 ear of the sleek hotel manager, who also came to 
 the door, looking quickly from group to group, 
 his lips shut. He answered her with a polite bow 
 and a shrug; he didn't know — he was a forastciro, 
 a stranger here, and their politics were nothing 
 to him. The bells? Why, of course, those were the 
 noon bells, yes, but it was only a few minutes 
 after ten o'clock. ... It was all some of their 
 politics, and the senhora would notice that there 
 was not a single man of the governor's party to 
 be seen. 
 
214 BLACK GOJjD 
 
 Having said this mncli, he shut his lips tight 
 again as if fearing that he had already said too 
 much, bowed again and hastily retreated to his 
 inner fastnesses. A second or two later a man in 
 white, his face distorted with fury, his eyes burn- 
 ing and his forehead covered with perspiration, 
 dashed round the corner and ran towards the gov- 
 ernor 's palace. He seemed to see no one, pushing 
 aside one and another who tried to stop and ques- 
 tion him as if he were blind. His teeth showed 
 in a kind of furious grin. As he passed the hotel 
 a tall, heavy man cried out to him: **Jose! que 
 tem, men caro? Jose!'' and caught him with 
 strong arms. The man, halted, made no resist- 
 ance, but stood staring and trembling, his breath 
 coming in sobs. As the crowd closed about him 
 he seemed to recover himself a little, wiped his 
 face with his sleeve, and screamed: **They have 
 dared! The robbers! The traitors! Thieves! 
 Plunderers! Creatures without shame! Ai, men 
 have been killed for less than this!" 
 
 He stopped and panted, and then yelled again 
 in his hoarse, thin voice : 
 
 **They shut the door in my face! They have the 
 courage, the thieves! It is twelve o'clock because 
 they say it is, they and their pack of assassins 
 and bandits! In my face! It 's twelve o 'clock ! Oh, 
 the insolents!" 
 
 The men about him exchanged glances. There 
 was dead silence and then some one laughed, a 
 high and cackling laugh that was presently 
 echoed from the group. The big man, keeping a 
 clutch upon Jose, dragged him into the shade of 
 the restaurant: ''Come and drink something. It 
 is no time to behave like idiots. Patience! Of 
 what use?" Several of the men followed them 
 
BLACK GOLD 215 
 
 inside, and one thickset, pale-faced Portuguese, 
 shrugging his shoulders, remarked in a voice loud 
 enough to reach Margarita: **How much differ- 
 ence does it make to us 1 What matters the name 
 of the man who holds the sceptre, or how he gets 
 it? They all steal. Why not? There is enough 
 for all/' 
 
 Someone replied to him bitterly: "Certainly, 
 if they had any reasonableness at all in their 
 stealing. But they have no limits. Ah, we have 
 never had any honest officials since the empire, 
 and now who expects it? But after all there are 
 limits. There is some decency to be observed.'' 
 
 A thin yellow-faced man turned upon hearing 
 this: "Yes, yes, this, is really too gross. You 
 know, I am an Amazonense, and this wounds my 
 pride as a citizen. Naturally, foreigners don't 
 care so much." He glowered at the Portuguese. 
 Someone else cried out from the inner room: 
 "Evaristo had better be careful! It's all his do- 
 ing. Pereira is too stupid for such an idea . . ." 
 but now the hotel manager appeared and cried 
 out: "Senhores! No names, please! A little dis- 
 cretion!" And the restaurant subsided to groups 
 from which whispers and exclamations rose 
 sullenly. 
 
 Margarita ran up to her room and found Bianca 
 hanging over the balcony looking down at the 
 square where knots of men stood gesticulating, 
 their eyes turned towards the corner where the 
 palace of the governor stood. Margarita said to 
 her: "It's something about politics," and this 
 was quite satisfactory to Bianca who declared 
 with an air of national pride: "In Italy, if men 
 got as angry as that, there 'd be some knifing." 
 She knew already of Francina's departure made 
 
216 BLACK GOLD 
 
 no comment, and looked with veiled eyes npon 
 Margarita as the girl talked about what they 
 would do until Salvatore and Francie came back. 
 They went to look for Laroche, encountered him 
 in the corridor seeking for them, and after a brief 
 and almost tearful discussion, went with him into 
 the white-hot streets, climbing the slope of the 
 avenue dedicated to Eduardo Eibeiro to the thea- 
 tre, glittering in the sunlight against the relent- 
 less blue of the sky. At the little tables set on the 
 pavement outside the cafe on the left, as they 
 began to ascend the avenue, there were clusters 
 of men like bees, thickly grouped, buzzing with 
 talk, their eyes glancing about them, 
 
 Laroche said to the girls, when they had passed 
 with courteous salutations, that he had a little 
 anxiety: the town seemed to be perturbed. He 
 had been at the Bolsa Universal near the bond 
 station when the cathedral bells were rung, and 
 he'd thought for a minute that there was going to 
 be a riot. The people there had thrown chairs 
 and things about and said a great deal — what had 
 happened? Oh, didn't they understand? He 
 looked on them with the laughing superiority of 
 the male who has a flair for politics. *'The gov- 
 ernor's party didn't intend that anybody should 
 vote except themselves, so they opened the poll- 
 ing places at ten o'clock, with all their friends 
 massed round the doors and rushing in and vot- 
 ing. When most of their party had voted, and 
 the opposition was beginning to think it was their 
 turn, they rang the bells for twelve o'clock and 
 closed the polls. They say there was just one op- 
 position vote registered. Crude, wasn't it? Amus- 
 ing, rather; the baldest thing I ever heard of, but 
 awfully childish ..." 
 
BLACK GOLD 217 
 
 ''What will happen? I wonder: I think it's a 
 toss-np whether Manaos will show fight about it, 
 or whether they will conclude — the ordinary busi- 
 ness people, I mean — that it is a tug of war be- 
 tween rival politicians and no particular concern 
 of anybody else's. If the commerciantes have 
 any reason for taking sides, then there might be 
 trouble. Otherwise nobody cares very much." 
 
 They entered the great theatre by a side door, 
 and as he stood aside for the girls to enter La- 
 roche ended with a loud sigh: ''I don't care what 
 they do! So long as we can get through without 
 a disaster, dear ladies, and keep things going till 
 the boss gets back with his armful of new beau- 
 ties. Can you sing the mad song out of 'Lucia,' 
 Mademoiselle Margarita ? ' ' 
 
 ''I don't want to," she protested. "You know 
 I'll do anything for you Jean, but . . . Let me try 
 Ritorna vincitor: I always get on with the 'Tosca' 
 music so comfortably. . . ." At that moment 
 Custodio came in, wiping his forehead and apolo- 
 gizing; he looked quite yellow, his eyes smoulder- 
 ing in his head. 
 
 *'Yes, I have a touch of fever," he said in reply 
 to the girls' questions. "No wonder! These poli- 
 tics! I am in it, I can't say anything, but I think 
 Evaristo has gone too far. However, what I came 
 in for — I saw you from the top of the street — 
 was to consult about to-night's performance. I am 
 a little afraid of a gathering like this, a crowd, 
 at such a moment. My opinion is that it would 
 be wiser to put it off. I am going to see Evaristo 
 now — will you permit me to send you a message 
 a little later?" 
 
 "It would be a blessed relief," Laroche 
 thought, but decided to run over some songs, in 
 
218 BLACK GOLD 
 
 case the theatre was opened before Salvatore 
 came back. He took Margarita, very nervous, 
 through half a dozen arias from their repertoire, 
 remaining unsatisfied; heard Bianca with rather 
 more content, sang his own song, Dio possente, 
 Bio d'amor, interjecting speculations as to where 
 Valentine's costume could possibly be, and sighed 
 over a duet or two. Then he suddenly had a bril- 
 liant idea. 
 
 *'Miss Margarita, an inspiration! You shan't 
 sing these classic things at all! You are not suffi- 
 ciently composed! I fear to trust you! But be 
 happy — here's something you could do without 
 any practicing at all. Your little French songs, 
 the Bergerettes.*' 
 
 '*0h, yes! Of course! They all like French, 
 don't they! All right, let me sing Jeanne aime joli 
 Jean, What a good idea! What else? Bergere 
 legere and that little Jeunes fillettes." 
 
 As she began to sing, a note came in by the 
 hand of a messenger. Custodio wrote hastily to 
 say that Evaristo wished the concert to take 
 place, that he was quite emphatic about it. Cus- 
 todio himself was neither well nor pleased, but 
 he placed himself, his car, and all he had at the 
 disposition of the ladies. 
 
 They went on practicing and arranging, the 
 members of the orchestra now coming in. Bianca, 
 always good-tempered, agreed to sing a duet with 
 Laroche and the popular Dormi pure, dor mi 
 felice, and the first violin compromised on a 
 couple of items. **The whole thing will be rather 
 scratch, my dears, but they know we are doing 
 our best, and they are awfully decent," Laroche 
 said as they went back to the hotel. 
 
 Here they found a letter from Affonso. After 
 
BLACK GOLD 219 
 
 the performance that night, Evaristo and he were 
 giving a supper, if they would all come? Laroche 
 was pleased. '^That shows they are sure the polit- 
 ical atmosphere is going to clear. Evaristo 
 knows what he's about. I like his nerve/' he 
 decided. *^Now, ladies, please go and sleep. 
 Everything depends on you." 
 
 Indefatigable, he swallowed a hasty lunch and 
 rushed back to the theatre, while Bianca did as 
 he told her, and Margarita lay on her bed watch- 
 ing the slow shifting of the blue shadows on the 
 white walls. 
 
xvn 
 
 BY the light of one swinging electric bulb and 
 four candles Margarita dressed herself care- 
 fully for the theatre. The heat hung oppressively 
 in the air, held close to the sweating earth by 
 heavy clouds, and the strange smell of Manaos, 
 the rank, all-pervading smell of rubber, came in at 
 the open balconies. 
 
 In a state of excitement and suspense, she chose 
 her prettiest frock of satin and pale chiffon, and 
 with trembling hands arranged her hair high 
 upon her little head. She seemed to have no 
 thoughts left for Francina or for Salvatore: she 
 did not think of Sansoe or even of Manaos, but 
 moved breathlessly with the whole of her atten- 
 tion fixed upon the ordeal that lay before her, the 
 first genuine test of her quality. Some spark of 
 the curious exaltation that made so many people 
 here forget any other condition or plane than 
 that prevailing in Manaos had fired her, perhaps. 
 She walked with a feeling that she did not touch 
 the floor, her eyes rapt as she already stood in 
 imagination before the faces that would, she was 
 certain, receive her with smiles. She felt deli- 
 ciously confident, could scarcely wait for the mo- 
 ment when she would step upon the lighted stage, 
 a sea of people rising before her. 
 
 Bianca entered in a whirlwind of little cries 
 and pink skirts. 
 
 ''Carissima, here is a little box for you and such 
 quantities of beautiful flowers! Ah, open thou the 
 
 220 
 
BLACK GOLD 221 
 
 box! Idle with impatience! . . . Oh, may I? Are 
 you sure? I would not be indiscreet. . . . Oh, most 
 lovely! See, see!" 
 
 She ended on a little shriek as she tore some- 
 thing from its velvet nest and swung it forward 
 on her outstretched hand. Margarita turned and 
 looked, dazzled, upon a string of lustrous pearls, 
 their satin orient glowing for all their milky 
 whiteness. 
 
 ''There is a little note.'^ 
 
 ''Read it to me.'' 
 
 Bianca brandished the folded paper, shaking 
 her head. Margarita caught it and glanced at the 
 carefully drawn letters. 
 
 ''These you cannot refuse,'' the note declared. 
 "For you do not know who sends them. But 
 think, if you please, that they come from no pre- 
 sumptuous man but from the Manaos that loves 
 your enchanting presence." 
 
 As she read she felt something cool against her 
 neck and looking up to the mirror saw the fingers 
 of Bianca fastening the pearls' clasp. She gasped 
 at their beauty. Their pale sheen took on a warm 
 and opalescent glow from her transparent skin. 
 She let them lie, the color rising in her cheeks 
 as she saw their completion of the picture she 
 made, with their strange lustre of the thing that 
 has had life in it and can still reflect life. She was 
 quite^ oblivious of Salvatore and his growled 
 warnings, and, entranced, could scarcely bear to 
 take her eyes from her own reflection. Only the^ 
 palpitating thought of her audience drew her to 
 the wings, full of people, invading the precincts, 
 bold in the absence of the dragon Salvatore. She 
 heard as if in a dream their greetings and excla- 
 mations, the hurried directions of Laroche, took 
 
222 BLACK GOLD 
 
 the kiss of Bianca without having the volition to 
 return it. 
 
 The theatre was packed. There were not many 
 women, but the few who were there wore such 
 dazzling jewels that flashes struck across the 
 theatre; one young girl waved a languid hand 
 from her box, covered with diamonds — Margarita 
 recognized Giulia, late of the chorus; and surely 
 there, near by, was the recalcitrant Beatriz 
 Sforzi. A dark, stout man lurked at her shoulder. 
 All the rest seemed to be a sea of faces. The gov- 
 ernor's box was empty as yet. Her eyes were 
 suddenly caught by the row of medallion por- 
 traits that had always held Francina's fancy; she 
 decided that she would sing to them. If she could 
 only make them smile at her! She laughed, 
 quivering with excitement. 
 
 When, ten minutes later, she came on for her 
 first song, she heard no applause, saw nothing. 
 She stood flushed, lovely, a little slender figure 
 on the stage. Her light voice, very clear and 
 sweet, penetrated easily: 
 
 '^Bergere legere, je crains tes appas! Ton ame 
 s'enflame, mais tu n'aimes pas!" she sent her 
 notes floating, clear as a bird's. 
 
 As she sang the last line, her eyes encountered 
 those of Evaristo, leaning from the corner of his 
 box. Affonso beamed and applauded frantically 
 at his side. 
 
 As she walked off the stage, still almost in a 
 dream, Laroche caught her arm, demanding in a 
 desperate whisper that she should sing again at 
 once. She went back and gave Chantons les 
 amours de Jean with a mist before her eyes, over- 
 come and trembling with the sound of applause. 
 It was not until she went back to her dressing 
 
BLACK GOLD 223 
 
 room and let the maid powder and fan her that 
 she recovered her full sense of reality; but when 
 she returned after half an hour to sing again she 
 was able to look at the audience and to pick out 
 coolly other faces that she knew. Affonso, behind 
 Evaristo, did not take his eyes from her face. She 
 smiled at them both delightedly, now quite self- 
 possessed, and continued to look at them from 
 time to time as she sang. 
 
 **Dans le bel age, prenez un ami! S'il est vol- 
 age, rendez-le lui! Jeune fillette, profitez du 
 
 temps " She ran from the stage with her arms 
 
 full of flowers, and cried out to Laroche like a 
 child, ''They liked me, didn't they!" He looked 
 at her almost with tears, nodding, and she gave 
 her hand to Affonso to be kissed when he waylaid 
 her in the corridor near her dressing room. 
 
 ''Thank you for your roses!" she laughed, radi- 
 ant, her eyes shining above the flowers. "They 
 say diamonds are easier to get in Manaos than 
 roses!" 
 
 "Ah, because roses are not luxuries! They are 
 necessities, for adorable maidens like you!" he 
 murmured. "In Manaos, necessities are so much 
 rarer than luxuries." 
 
 A few minutes later the performance was over, 
 the last note sounded, and the audience emptying 
 from the theatre. Laroche, observing them from 
 behind the curtain, thought that they were long 
 in getting away: groups formed, and in spite of 
 the laughter and gaiety, he seemed to detect a 
 nervousness, a tenseness, that he ascribed to the 
 political feeling of the day. A trifle anxious, he 
 watched the knots of men as they talked and ges- 
 ticulated, noticing again what he had noticed all 
 through the evening, the dark looks cast at the 
 
224 BLACK GOLD 
 
 box where Evaristo sat. It was not for some 
 minutes that the deputy governor and his party 
 moved from their places, apparently waiting for 
 the crowd to leave the theatre. But when Mar- 
 garita and Bianca, their light wraps about their 
 shoulders and their arms full of flowers, came 
 from the dressing rooms towards the top of the 
 great staircase, they met the politicians, await- 
 ing their guests. Custodio stood with his nephew 
 and the imperturbable Evaristo, talking rapidly, 
 his small face anxious. The three broke off the 
 discussion and hurried forward with renewed 
 smiles, and Evaristo, with more warmth than he 
 usually showed, gave the abrago to Laroche and 
 congratulated the remnant of the opera company 
 upon their gallant showing. 
 
 As they stood talking at the top of the stair- 
 case, awaiting the signal for their carriages, it 
 struck Margarita as it had struck Laroche, that 
 many close groups and knots of whispering men 
 stood together. She saw curious looks, furtive 
 and menacing, sent upwards to her friends, and 
 it seemed to her that these starers were much 
 more occupied with the politicians than with her- 
 self. Her new vanity noted this with a touch of 
 astonishment. 
 
 By chance, as the crowd shifted, the staircase 
 was suddenly quite clear, and the group at the 
 head stood apart in a blaze of light, as the people 
 in the foyer looked upwards. A murmur rail 
 through them like a breeze, and all at once some 
 courageous spirit changed his muttering to a 
 shrill cry: 
 
 *'Ah, you band of thieves! You bandits! 
 Thieves and cheats!" 
 
 Immediately, as if a match had been set to an 
 
BLACK GOLD ^ 225 
 
 explosive, cries and shouts rose from a dozen 
 points among the crowd, as the pale faces and 
 furious eyes stared upwards. Margarita, para- 
 lyzed with surprise, heard a few yelled sentences 
 and phrases emerge from the strange mass of 
 noise that flung itself up in angry spasms: 
 
 **You are without shame, Evaristo! You ought 
 to be killed! You are an insolent, defying us, mak- 
 ing a mock of our simple rights! You stole our 
 votes this morning, you are a thief. You have 
 gone too far this time, you low conspirator! You 
 are a traitor and a robber!" 
 
 A surging began, as men in uniform suddenly 
 appeared and tried to hustle the crowd away. 
 But this interference roused hysterical anger, and 
 a quick interchange of scuffling sent the uni- 
 formed men to the rear. From the midst of the 
 struggling mass a slim figure disengaged him- 
 self, mounting two or three of the lower steps and 
 brandishing a paper in his hands. He shouted 
 something that she could not hear, and hands 
 dragged him back into the mob again as Evaristo 
 stepped forward. 
 
 With a face composed as ever, the slight, in- 
 solent smile upon his lips, the deputy governor 
 stood on the edge of the top step. His eyes were 
 dark wells, as he coolly lit a cigar and blew the 
 smoke downwards arrogantly. Affonso Guima- 
 raes, much less cool and with more realization of 
 the exasperation of Manaos, turned and spoke 
 quickly to Laroche: 
 
 ''Get the ladies away. Take them back to the re- 
 ception room and wait there for a moment until I 
 come. At once, please. These idiots might be 
 troublesome, impertinent, perhaps. Go, I beg 
 you." 
 
226 BLACK GOLD 
 
 Laroehe tried to obey, taking the two women 
 by the arm, but Margarita freed herself quickly, 
 smiling and saying, *^ Nonsense. It's nothing. We 
 can't run away. Leave me alone." She stepped 
 forward, her face flushed and her eyes brilliant, 
 making a movement as if to take Evaristo's arm. 
 It seemed to her that this was part of the theat- 
 rical scene, that one must behave with spirit and 
 dignity. Of course one couldn't run away! 
 
 Affonso, glancing at her, gently pulled her 
 aside, threw himself in front of Evaristo, and be- 
 gan to descend the stairs, calling out in his clear 
 and precise voice, *'My friends and enemies, there 
 are ladies here! Quarrel with us at some other 
 time! Leave this until to-morrow, if you please." 
 
 The mob at the stairs' foot was silent as he 
 came forward and spoke. For a suspended mo- 
 ment it seemed as if the show of ugly temper had 
 been checked by this appeal to gallantry. But 
 before this hesitation could crystallize, a dark 
 young man violently pushed his way through to 
 the front, ran up a couple of the marble steps, and 
 brandished his uplifted hands as he screamed out 
 in a high, furious voice : 
 
 *'Ah, you, Affonso GuimaraesI You are as bad 
 as your robber of a cousin! You are worse! You 
 are trying to ruin all of us! You are in a plot! 
 You are a traitor to your country! You want to 
 ruin the Amazon, you and your foreign friend!" 
 He stopped, gasping and shaking angry hands, 
 and Margarita recognized with astonishment the 
 delicate dandy Domingos Souza, transformed 
 miraculously into an accusing fury. What was 
 the matter with him? He, the stupid, the 
 devoted . . . 
 
 Affonso, staring at him, stood still. They faced 
 
BLACK GOLD 227 
 
 each other, a dozen steps between them. No one 
 else stirred. Then Affonso said sharply, **What 
 do you mean? Domingos, are you mad?'* 
 
 His secretary, pale, trembling, shouted at him: 
 
 ''Do not dare to deny it! I have watched you, 
 you conspirator! I have the proof. We all know 
 about it! We are going to put you in jail, your 
 company promoter and you! Do you think we are 
 a pack of fools f 
 
 He turned dramatically to the throng pressing 
 up the stairs behind him and gesticulated: 
 
 *'Look at him, my friends! This wonderful 
 patriot! He has signed an agreement that will 
 make you all beggars on the Amazon! Our black 
 gold will not be worth using for ballast. I have 
 a copy, I know all about it. We can starve when 
 he gets his beautiful plan into operation. That's 
 very easy. Are you going to look on like dead 
 fish while he does it? What are we all doing, 
 standing dumb while this man ruins us!" 
 
 His voice ran up and broke, and a score of 
 voices rose in a clamor of sound. 
 
 At this crisis Alfonso made one mistake and 
 Evaristo another. Affonso, disdainful, his face a 
 mask of contempt, made an insolent gesture 
 towards his accuser. 
 
 ''You were born an idiot, and you will die one," 
 he spat out. 
 
 At the same moment Evaristo made a quick 
 raotion with his right hand, as if to reach inside 
 his coat. It was the gesture of a man who seeks 
 a weapon. ^ At once a suspended storm burst loose. 
 Hoarse cries and a hail of shouted words broke 
 from the crowd; a surge of hasty movement 
 swayed groups of the close-packed men. A wave 
 of gesticulating individuals broke from the mass. 
 
228 BLACK GOLD 
 
 pushed together up the stairs, and a voice 
 screamed, **You want to shoot us, do you? As- 
 sassin, take care! Get your new machine guns 
 and turn them on us, will you? Ah, you can't 
 frighten us! We are ready for you!" 
 
 While this defiance was hurled upwards, and 
 before anyone could do more than realize the 
 roused temper of the mob, a shot rang out from 
 its midst. It went high, striking a lamp with a 
 sound of tinkling, as glass fell in a tiny shower 
 upon the marble stairs. Affonso turned and 
 glanced quickly at the deputy governor, throw- 
 ing out his arms as if to shield him, but made no 
 movement to defend himself. Evaristo, his scorn- 
 ful face quite unmoved, stepped down another 
 stair, and as he did so two more shots rang out in 
 rapid succession, apparently from opposite sides 
 of the foyer. 
 
 Margarita, staring fascinated at Evaristo 's 
 smile, saw it stiffen suddenly, saw him stagger as 
 if under the impact of a swift blow. In a moment 
 he recovered, grasping the balustrade and stand- 
 ing very erect. Shouts came from the group above 
 him, and during a minute of fantastic nightmare 
 there was a sharp interchange of shots, until 
 Affonso, throwing his two hands to his breast, 
 slipped and fell sideways upon the stair. As he 
 fell, a trickle of scarlet blood began to run from 
 the cuff of his left sleeve. 
 
 As if by magic, silence fell upon the furious 
 crowd below. Wisps of blue haze hung here 
 and there above pallid, staring faces, and after a 
 second or two of agonized quiet, a man pushed 
 out from the mass and ran up while three others 
 rushed from above. In the stir, there was a move- 
 ment towards the main door, as men edged their 
 
BLACK GOLD 229 
 
 way out into the night. It was as if a spell of 
 madness had been broken by the sight of blood. 
 The shouting opposition dissolved and disap- 
 peared, while the Guimaraes party, submerged 
 by the attack a moment before, retook possession 
 of the scene. 
 
 Margarita, released from the frozen astonish- 
 ment that held her, dragged her arm from the 
 grasp of Bianca, who hung shivering and crying, 
 and began to run down the stairs. She hardly 
 looked at Affonso, surrounded by stooping men 
 who lifted and carried him to the foyer, but went 
 instead straight to Evaristo, who still stood hold- 
 ing the balustrade, a stiff smile upon his lips, as 
 men ran to him and spoke and questioned. ^ 
 
 Quite close to him, she saw him shake his head, 
 his eyes blank, and make a movement as if to 
 descend another step. Before his feet the marble 
 was splashed with the blood from Affonso's 
 wound, below a mass of men bent over a recum- 
 bent figure. There was a bright glitter of uni- 
 forms at the door as a squad of soldiers pushed in 
 from the dark. She touched Evaristo 's arm 
 gently, saying to him, *'You are hurt, don't you 
 know you are hurt?'' and at that the deputy 
 governor turned a strange bleached face upon her, 
 a face from which all expression had ^ been 
 stricken but for the faint look of wonder in his 
 wide-open eyes. For a second he faced her, stand- 
 ing erect as she gazed at him wildly. Then all at 
 once he collapsed, loosing his hold upon the 
 balustrade and falling as if some long-sustained 
 inner strength had suddenly failed. 
 
 Margarita caught his limp body in her young 
 and sturdy arms, knelt upon the step and lowered 
 him to her lap, half seeing as she peered into his 
 
230 BLACK GOLD 
 
 face the thronging men who cried out in sur- 
 prise and closed about her. She heard her own 
 voice saying piteously, **He is dead. I am sure he 
 is dead,'' repeating this gently and obstinately as 
 a man with a face that she noticed was very 
 plump, with absurd round eyes, argued with her, 
 **0h, no, mademoiselle, he is not hurt at all, you 
 are mistaken, he has fainted." 
 
 ^'He is dead," she said again. She did not know 
 why she was so certain, but she had known it 
 from the moment that Evaristo had staggered 
 under the blow of the bullet. She put her hands 
 over his eyes as Custodio de Freitas knelt beside 
 her on the narrow stair, opened Evaristo 's shirt 
 and bent over his heart. When he looked up again 
 he said simply, *'Yes, he is dead." 
 
 He re-arranged Evaristo 's clothes, on which no 
 sign of blood showed, and then taking the limp 
 head into his arms, said decisively to the girl, 
 *'Go, go, dear child. Go at once. It will be much 
 better. There is nothing to be done here. Go, I 
 beg you." 
 
 Someone helped her to rise, and she stood for 
 a minute looking down at the dead face, uncon- 
 scious of the curious glances bent upon her by the 
 people who pressed about them on the stairs. A 
 hand touched her bare arm, and she turned to 
 Laroche, as Affonso, his arm in a white sling, his 
 face ghastly, pushed his way to the side of Evar- 
 isto. She withdrew quickly, and followed the un- 
 happy impresario down a few stairs. Bianca, 
 sobbing with long gasps as she held an end of 
 her long scarf before her face, clutched Laroche 's 
 hand, but Margarita, half dazed, walked as if in 
 a dream. Her mind seemed to search for meanings 
 in a whirl of dreadful sounds and glaring lights, 
 
BLACK GOLD 231 
 
 and it was not until they had squeezed a way 
 through the people at the foot of the stairs, oblivi- 
 ous of the looks that followed them, and emerged 
 into the cool dark night, that a flooding thought 
 of sudden clarity came upon her. 
 
 Her seeking mind had found the poignant, 
 threatening thing that had been said. ^*You want 
 to ruin the Amazon, you and your foreign friend! 
 . . . We are going to put you in jail, your com- 
 pany promoter and you!" 
 
 John Ware, John Ware! In what danger was 
 he, there in the forest miles away, unsuspicious 
 of all this anger and trouble? Someone must go 
 to him, tell him, warn him. Otherwise, those who 
 were not his friends might reach him first. There 
 had been murder. It was still in their minds, in 
 their plans maybe. Her thought flew to him and 
 clung, rejecting as without importance all the 
 persons and the scenes of her old and new associa- 
 tion and also a shred of cold hesitation lest the 
 threats might be short-lived and empty, after all. 
 She knew just what she must do, without a second 
 of hesitation. She stood on the pavement and 
 spoke quietly to Laroche. 
 
 *^I have forgotten something very important. 
 I must go back to my dressing room. Take Bianca 
 home — she is ill, worn out. ... I will get Custodio 
 de Freitas or someone to bring me to the hotel. 
 Go on and don't worry. Take Bianca at once. 
 Don't wait." She was so calm and decided that 
 Laroche made no protest. She slipped up the 
 crowded stairs, ran along the empty corridors to 
 her dressing room, shut and locked the door, and 
 switched on the electric light. 
 
xvin 
 
 SHE hnrrledly tore the glowing satin from her 
 body, ripping chiffon and lace when the fas- 
 tenings irked her trembling fingers, kicked the 
 silver slippers into a corner, and tore off the thin, 
 shimmering stockings. Then ran to her property 
 box, fumbled in its depths, and brought out a 
 pair of sandals, a blue cotton skirt and black 
 shawl. She threw the shawl over her shoulders 
 and head; her bare feet would give her free pas- 
 sage where satin shoes could never carry her un- 
 scathed. As she arranged the black cloth to fall 
 low over her forehead, she caught in the mirror 
 the reflection of the heavy string of pearls, a lus- 
 trous circle about her neck. Such a glimpse as 
 that might betray her! She caught at them with 
 both hands, broke the thread, and as they rolled on 
 the floor she pushed them away impatiently with 
 her bare foot. 
 
 As she glanced hastily about the room, her fin- 
 gers upon the door — who could tell how soon 
 someone might come! She must hurry, hurry! — 
 her eyes fell upon the scattered pearls again, and 
 for a second a feeling of wonder crossed her mind 
 that only a few hours ago those round and shin- 
 ing beads had meant something to her, that they 
 had really seemed important. ... As she turned, 
 she trod on one of the pearls, picked it up, and 
 stared at it. There was a tiny smear of blood. 
 Was it on her hand or the pearl? She shut her 
 eyes, felt her forehead dampened, and, dropping 
 
 232 
 
BLACK GOLD 233 
 
 the pearl into her breast, turned the handle of the 
 door and slipped out. 
 
 She made her way to the narrow staircase at 
 the back; a light glimmered at its head, and this 
 she switched off before descending. She felt calm, 
 as if walking in a dream, and thought no more 
 of the scenes of the day, the disaster, of Francina 
 — ^her numbed mind concerned itself no longer 
 with the immediate past, and little with the pres- 
 ent, fixing all its strength upon one thing, upon 
 the one object — the hut in the forest. At the outer 
 door she stopped a moment to put on her sandals, 
 then turned the big handle and looked cautiously 
 out into the deserted space. Here all was silent, 
 but she heard movements and cries that came 
 from the front of the theatre. The night was dark, 
 only the electric lights forming little pools of blue 
 haze. She passed quickly, a shadow among 
 shadows, keeping beneath trees, crossing side 
 streets, turning north when she dared; she hurried 
 past the gaunt piles and debris of the half-fin- 
 ished palace of the governor, intending to trav- 
 erse the Praga 5 de Setembro, and so to come 
 out into the Avenida Constantino. But here a 
 group of men stood, talking loudly under a lamp. 
 They caught sight of her dim, shrinking shape 
 and called, jovial. She turned and ran, noiseless, 
 like a frightened little creature of the woods, tak- 
 ing refuge in the shadows of the next corner, 
 turning south for shelter. They did not attempt 
 to follow. When she saw that the street remained 
 silent and empty, and her heart had ceased its 
 violent beating, she made her way across the rua 
 do Progreso, and so at last into the Epaminondas. 
 She was alert now. 
 
 Here on this wide and empty avenue the black 
 
234 BLACK GOLD 
 
 velvet darkness was a more unbroken mass; it 
 pressed about her, the warm air an actual weight 
 upon her limbs. The street lamps threw only thin 
 fingers into the thick air. She hurried up the 
 road, trying to keep her thoughts from the en- 
 closure that lay at the top of the hill, but as she 
 came abreast of it she stopped and with a renewal 
 of courage looked at that crowded ground where 
 so many people lay in a narrow space. Near the 
 railings, a ray of light suddenly made plain a new 
 opening in the red soil; it yawned, significant, 
 waiting for its mouthful. Purple-black shadows 
 lay in its depths. She shrank from it as from a 
 blow, pulled the mantilla tighter about her head, 
 and hastened on. 
 
 Passing the cemetery, leaving the rails of the 
 car line behind, she walked quickly past the 
 houses, breathing a sigh of relief when they 
 ceased. Almost all were in darkness, but here 
 and there a dog howled and once the tinkle of a 
 viola came from behind a half-closed shutter. 
 From Evaristo's big house, lights streamed. 
 Many of the shutters were wide open, and from 
 a wide room into which Margarita could see 
 plainly came the click of billiard balls and the 
 sound of laughter. Groups of people stood in that 
 room, and as she passed, pressing against the 
 other side of the street, she saw a man come to 
 the open window and lean out. 
 
 They didn't know yet, she said to herself, 
 astonished that all the world was not conscious 
 of the violent deeds of the night. From this point 
 pretentious houses ceased. She hurried, half 
 running, down the long slope, tree-closed, and 
 quite dark but for the pale mosaic on the 
 pavement where electric lights pierced the thick 
 
BLACK GOLD 235 
 
 leaves. But the sound of a footstep made her 
 leave this path, fearing an encounter, and she 
 made her way in the heavy shadows on the ex- 
 treme left, where the open ground seemed less 
 dangerous than the opposite bank with its hud- 
 dling cottages. 
 
 Suddenly a silver flood began to lighten the 
 sky and she saw the rising edge of the moon 
 above the trees. In a few moments the road was 
 flooded with light, and, looking furtively up and 
 down, she saw only a long empty ribbon. The 
 single footfall had disappeared. It seemed to her 
 that in all the expanse outside the city nothing 
 moved or breathed but herself. Even the illunii- 
 nated leaves of the Indian laurels were as still 
 as death — as death! The air was as heavy as a 
 wet cloth. 
 
 When, her feet flying, her breathing labored, 
 she reached the crest of the hill, the moon was 
 half hidden behind cloud banks. The electric 
 lights ceased, throwing a final gleam upon the 
 little water tower and the sandy road that ran 
 off to the igarape. In front, all was dark. Now 
 the hardest part, perhaps, of her journey began. 
 The road, suddenly losing all its apparelled 
 dignity, ran straight ahead, dwindled, dropped, 
 fading out among the trees. The forest swallow- 
 ing this last trace of men's work stood in a solid 
 black mass, menacing, a motionless host of ene- 
 mies, armed for the quick overthrow of the weak. 
 The feet of Margarita faltered and stopped at 
 sight of that dark array. She turned upon the 
 top of the hill and looked back upon the road 
 along which she had fled, watching the diminish-^ 
 ing string of lights as they ran back towards 
 Manaos, Exalted, fevered, she stared painfully 
 
236 BLACK GOLD 
 
 into the distance until it seemed to her that she 
 could see the whole of the bizarre, ramshackle 
 city spread like a map, the city with its upstart 
 houses, the glaring theatre, the countless shriek- 
 ing clubs that stood open all night, the churches 
 that meant nothing at all. Her burning eyes 
 seemed to look through walls and roofs. She saw 
 into the pillared hall, the white staircase with its 
 new sinister stains of red; she saw beyond to the 
 line where the black river ran past, eternal bar- 
 rier, eternal voyager, enclosing the little scrap of 
 soil where men from all over the world toiled like 
 ants and conspired and fought and wrecked their 
 minds and bodies for the sake of a handful of gold 
 to spend on vain rubbish ... as pearls ? She saw 
 the shining things scattered upon a polished floor. 
 
 Almost up to her feet ran the work of these 
 struggling men, planning their little roads, carv- 
 ing out a fevered market place, piling up stones 
 to make houses, insolently floating their cockle- 
 shell boats upon the great river, sending men into 
 the multitudes of trees to steal from those giants; 
 and while they labored, the silent and apparently 
 submissive nature triumphed over those puny 
 efforts. Here were forever on guard the double 
 lines of forest and river, strong, immutable; not 
 things without sentience, not undirected, but part 
 of all life, majestic in power and silence. 
 
 A dank and chilly wind suddenly blew. Shiver- 
 ing, she stood erect from the tree where she had 
 leaned her tired body, and with an effort with- 
 drew her mind. '*I must go on, I must go on," 
 she said to herself. **I must find him, I must tell 
 him." She turned her face to the forest and 
 moved a few steps towards it, as the moon came 
 gallantly out, sailing in a clear sapphire sky. 
 
BLACK GOLD 237 
 
 Sheets of silver-blue light flooded the massed tops 
 of the forest trees, enormous waves of hazy blue- 
 green. Into that waste of verdure she must go, 
 and quickly. Somewhere stretched the little path, 
 somewhere she must find the creek; she must find 
 the boat, seek the island and the little hut. The 
 hut! To her shaken heart, the hut that sheltered 
 Ware was a haven. Her thought ran to it and 
 rested in it with a sense of measureless comfort. 
 Where did it lie — in all those swaddling mazes 
 of forest? 
 
 **I will find it," she said, to spur the courage 
 that sank at sight of that illimitable sea of tree 
 tops. There, to the west, where the forest dipped 
 into a crease, lay the black river; she followed the 
 fold with her eyes, as if trying to pierce the net- 
 work of forest and waterways, her mind seeking. 
 As she looked, the moonlit mist that hung above 
 the trees seemed to melt at a distant point. She 
 saw plainly a little group of friendly trees, their 
 leaves dancing over golden fruit. Now the trunks 
 fell gently apart, and she saw directly into the 
 heart of a tiny clearing — a clearing, or a garden? 
 Bright flowers shine as if in the sun, there is 
 a sharp-sweet scent as of heather, white walls of a 
 cottage gleam between the bushes; a thin wisp of 
 blue smoke drifts upwards. 
 
 While she stood staring, but without any feel- 
 ing of surprise, a clamor sounded, the crash of 
 bells from the city calling midnight. Her mind 
 came quickly back to the road on which she stood. 
 *^I am dreaming. It was the house of faery. I 
 am dreaming,'' she said to herself, but now took 
 up her march extraordinarily comforted. 
 
 As she entered the woodland she saw that it 
 was not quite dark. The path was broad enough 
 
238 BLACK GOLD 
 
 to permit the moon to push through the branches, 
 creating lacy silver-and-black patterns on the 
 path. As in the forest by daylight, there was a 
 pervading silence, but now and again this silence 
 was broken by strange sounds that did not seem 
 to be made by any animal. From some distance 
 there once came a crashing noise, as if some beast 
 moved a clumsy body through the undergrowth, 
 and once a strange moaning cry sounded that rose 
 and shrilled and died away as suddenly as it had 
 begun. She knew that this part of the forest was 
 too near the city for any fear of encountering 
 dangerous wild creatures, but involuntarily 
 thought of the great snakes that lived in the 
 Amazonian fastness, of the vengeful anta with 
 her tearing claws, of the little jaguar, but she 
 thought of them as things belonging to another 
 life: she was sure that nothing would harm her, 
 that nothing would touch her. Not only was she 
 convinced, now, that she would safely find Ware, 
 but as she left the troubled city farther behind 
 her spirit of the country girl returned, and she 
 felt herself calmed by the contact of the trees; 
 they stifled her, she longed for open spaces, but 
 they were not unfriendly and she could not fear 
 them. 
 
 She walked hurriedly, the damp cold penetra- 
 ting her clothes, her bare arms chilly; she wrapped 
 them as well as she could in the heavy mantilla. 
 She could not really cover the ground quickly 
 when the path grew narrower and the trees met 
 more thickly overhead, for she feared to miss the 
 little pathway in the shadows that ran off to the 
 igarape. She remembered John's warning that 
 the path was nothing but a tiny grass-grown 
 track. 
 
BLACK GOLD 239 
 
 In the end, she found it by chance, when, stop- 
 ping to fasten one of her sandals, she leant her 
 hand against the trunk of a tree, and felt it scored 
 with deep notches. Turning now to the left, she 
 almost felt her way along the new track, care- 
 fully, lest an unguarded step should send her 
 wandering among the maze of trees, to lose her 
 way. But feeling tree after tree with her out- 
 stretched hand, taking each step slowly, avoid- 
 ing the openings between the trunks where there 
 was heavy undergrowth covered with thorns or 
 vine-matted, she managed by good fortune to 
 keep upon the trail. It presently led her down a 
 gentle slope, at whose bottom she heard the secret 
 rustling of water against water plants. 
 
 A moment more and she knelt at the edge of the 
 tiny stream, bathing her hands, thinking with 
 longing of clear brooks upon distant moors, where 
 one might drink fearlessly. It was very dark and 
 still. No moonlight penetrated here. The boat- 
 how could she find it! It should lie somewhere un- 
 der this bank. She began to grope her way along 
 the edge of the water, peering at its dead black 
 surface, when suddenly a voice cried: *' Quern 
 vae?" Her heart stopped beating, but risking all 
 she murmured: ** Vicente!" and heard with a vio- 
 lent reaction of feeling his quick exclamation, 
 **Deus! Senhora Margarita!" 
 
 She trembled, clutching a bough for support, 
 tears in her eyes. Before her a twinkling light 
 rose, as Vincente swung a lantern aloft, illumi- 
 nating his dark, wooden face. She saw in a few 
 seconds that he was standing upright in Ware's 
 motor boat, moored so that it lay in the middle of 
 the narrow stream. He smiled upon her, covered 
 the light again with instinctive prudence, seized 
 
240 BLACK GOLD 
 
 his paddle and made a couple of strokes. Then 
 he jumped ashore and stood before her, remark- 
 ing cheerfully, ''It is good that you spoke soon, 
 senhora. I heard the small voice of your coming, 
 and diS not know ... I make ready a gun. It is 
 well. I am at your orders.'' 
 
 ''I must go at once to find the Senhor Ware, 
 quickly. It is of very great importance, ' ' she said, 
 wiping the tears from her eyes. The caboclo, re- 
 garding with intelligent eyes the lady of his lord, 
 made no demur, but pulled the boat's side close 
 to the shelving margin, and helped her to step in. 
 The blackness of the forest was only faintly 
 broken by the sheen of the water, but he busied 
 himself with the machinery without hesitation, 
 using his hurricane lantern rarely. He started the 
 engine and in a few minutes the little craft began 
 to move down the narrow igarape towards the 
 Negro, with what seemed to the girl like a ter- 
 rible noise, echoing in that dark and silent wood- 
 land. 
 
 Vicente appeared to steer by instinct, for to 
 Margarita there was no light or any other guide. 
 But in a short time the waterway grew wider, a 
 pale reflection from the sky reached the surface. 
 She could make out dimly, as they crept onwards, 
 the shapes of other boats moored to the banks, 
 and the looming bulk of houses. Here Vicente in- 
 creased his speed and they shot past the fringe 
 of the city, where lights still moved. When, 
 with the engine purring, they entered the broad 
 waters of the Negro he turned upstream, almost 
 due west, and, hugging the left bank, began to 
 make for the islands. 
 
 Margarita sat huddled in her shawl, peering 
 into the night. When she asked the caboclo if 
 
BLACK GOLD 241 
 
 they could reach the senhor's house before dawn 
 he smiled with a flash of white teeth and re- 
 sponded with his unfailing cheerfulness, '*Sini, 
 senhora! I make all possible!'' 
 
 He handed her a rug and begged her to cover 
 herself against the chill of the early hours, **um 
 frio muito perigroso"— a very dangerous cold, 
 and as the stars paled he ran the Boto faster m 
 the wide and silent river. A flush suffused the 
 east as he traversed the water path between the 
 two islands directly across the river, and turned 
 again upstream near the right bank. Suddenly, 
 against a sky of trembling gold, she saw the rocky 
 spit with a cluster of upright trees that marked 
 the screened entrance to Ware's forest dwelling. 
 
XIX 
 
 YVTAEE, returning to his hut after an early 
 ^" visit to the seringal that morning, was met 
 by a figure that rose from the side of the path and 
 greeted him calmly. *'The Senhora Margarita is 
 here. ' ' He smothered an exclamation at this news. 
 ''Did she tell you why, did she say anything T' 
 No, she hadn't said anything, she only told him to 
 come quickly. Nothing was strange to Vicente's 
 quiet mind, apparently. 
 
 Striding hastily to his shelter, Ware stopped 
 with a hand upon the frail door, his eyes caught 
 by something round and lustrous that lay on the 
 hard mud floor's edge. He picked it up — a pearl, 
 with a little brownish stain on one side. Gently 
 pushing the door wider, he saw a little hand that 
 hung over the border of his hammock in the dim 
 interior, a hand with a turquoise ring on the little 
 finger. It drooped, innocent, trusting, as if be- 
 longing to someone who slept. He stood still for 
 quite a whole minute, perhaps because he could 
 not see very well in that dark hut, after the bright 
 pearly lights of the young morning. Then he re- 
 treated, arranged the door to keep out the light, 
 and began to busy himself with a pan of charcoal 
 outside. 
 
 He boiled water, took newly pulverized coffee 
 in a small bag, dripped the steaming water 
 through it, and then went quietly and looked 
 through a crack in the door. Perhaps it was the 
 aroma of the coffee that waked the girl; she 
 
 242 
 
BLACK GOLD 243 
 
 opened her eyes, raised her head; he came quickly 
 to her side. 
 
 *' Don't move. Drink this first/' he said, an arm 
 behind her shoulders. She drank obediently, like 
 a child, now and then raising big eyes to his face 
 over the rim of the cup. When nothing but sugar 
 was left at the bottom, he said: ^'Very well. Now 
 ... did you come to tell me something, Mar- 
 garita?'' And at this, tears filled her eyes. 
 
 *'Yes. Let me get up, John." She swung her 
 feet to the floor, sat on the edge of the hammock, 
 and began her story. Ware, stroking her hands 
 ^s if she was a child, listened to her tale of the 
 election, the scene in the theatre, the shooting. He 
 exclaimed at this last, ^'Oh, my poor little dear!" 
 but otherwise sat listening, nodding from time to 
 time, and saying at the end, ^'Yes, there was 
 always the chance of trouble, if somebody got 
 excited. Evaristo risked too much. He flouted 
 them with his election practical joke. And then 
 that wretched little Souza ... I am awfully sorry 
 about Affonso. You are a very brave girl. . . . 
 Now, you must eat something. Vicente is getting 
 some breakfast ready. Stay there and I will bring 
 you some water and a towel." 
 
 He fetched water from the river in a big gourd, 
 and a linen towel, and then stood gravely holding 
 his little square inch of mirror while she took 
 down her ruffled hair, braided it, and threw it 
 hanging over her shoulder. Then Vicente brought 
 rice and black beans, steaming fish stewed with 
 pimentos, some sour red fruit mashed up witn 
 sugar; and they ended the meal with more little 
 cups of black coffee. When Vicente was washing 
 up, by the simple expedient of dipping the plates 
 in the stream, she said to John: 
 
244 BLACK GOLD 
 
 ^^Wliat are yon going to do!" 
 
 *'If it wasn't for you and my work, it wonld be 
 simple/' lie said. **I should of course go back to 
 Manaos at once and find out what they had to 
 say. But with a political upheavel, and Affonso 
 knocked out for a time, I don't know if I could 
 get a fair hearing in their present mood. They 
 need time to get cooled off. I could probably talk 
 to the Brazilians, if it weren't for the political 
 complication — ^but the merchants ... I doubt it. 
 And this is just the moment when I can't take 
 risks, because yesterday, by the irony of fate, I 
 was able to decide that I had really got my work 
 done — found out how to do it without any mis- 
 take — at last. If they asked me, I should certainly 
 tell them so, and then there might be more 
 trouble. Of course, I may be mistaken, but I don't 
 think so; I think I have got it ... I must get 
 that process, the whole thing, into the hands of 
 the people who can use it, at once. That is easy 
 for me. But Margarita, what am I going to do 
 with you?*' 
 
 She answered with a question: *^"What are you 
 going to dor' 
 
 *^I am going to borrow a boat, a good-sized 
 canoe, belonging to Vicente's brother, and run 
 down direct from here to Para, where I can take a 
 steamer without trouble. I can keep out of the 
 usual channels, most of the time. I could do it 
 in the motor boat quicker, but I don't know if I 
 can run the risk of their looking out for the Boto. 
 Eaf ael 's igarite has a covered end, quite comfort- 
 able, and a sail, and we are all decent paddlers." 
 
 **You must take me with you. I am a good 
 waterman too," she said. 
 
 He considered this. **I realize that it wouldn't 
 
BLACK GOLD 245 
 
 be very agreeable for you to return to Manaos. 
 But think carefully! You are not stupid, Mar- 
 garita, and you must consider. ... I could, you 
 see, send you back at once with Vicente in the 
 Boto.'' 
 '* Wasting your time if you waited until Vicente 
 
 got back.'' 
 
 He shook his head. *'I should not wait. It 
 would be risking things. Perhaps he couldn't get 
 back at all." 
 
 **You needn't think of it. I am not going 
 back to Manaos. It would be dreadful. No! And 
 remember that it wouldn't be at all easy. I have 
 been missed by this time. I could scarcely go in 
 by Manaos' front door, in your boat, by daylight, 
 with alpargatas on my feet? And you are not ask- 
 ing me to return by night, the way I cameT' She 
 shuddered. Then said meekly: 
 
 ''At Para I should find Francina. And I could 
 take a steamer home, too." 
 
 He walked to the door and stood looking out. 
 The little clearing was flooded with sun. Bright 
 dappled woods closed it in, birds called and whis- 
 tled gaily; a cashew tree in scented flower threw 
 patterned shadows over the hut. 
 
 ''Very well." 
 
 She regarded the back of his head, stood up, 
 came towards him. "You are not very anxious 
 for my company." 
 
 "I will tell you about that at Para," he said 
 drily. "You are a very serious responsibility." 
 He gave her a quick glance. "I must think for 
 you. ' ' 
 
 "At least say you are glad I came.'* 
 
 "Margarita, dear, be careful what you say to 
 me." Then, obeying, perhaps, an irresistible 
 
246 BLACK GOLD 
 
 impulse, he turned and came close to her, began to 
 speak hurriedly: **You know very well that I 
 adore every bit of you, from your dear feet to the 
 top of your head. I believe you love me too, or you 
 wouldn't have come here to me. You look like a 
 child" — and she did look very much a child 
 — standing there with short blue skirt and bare 
 feet, and a little white camisa thing showing her 
 white arms, and her hair down her back — **You 
 look like a little girl, and yet I am horribly afraid 
 of you, Margarita . . . because I know that you 
 are not a little girl, and you seem to me like the 
 sun and moon and all the earth and everything 
 sweet and desirable in the world. I am madly in 
 love with you, and you know it ... I have never 
 known how to keep my hands from you, 
 Margarita. 
 
 **I may have lots of money soon: but perhaps 
 not. Would you marry a poor man!'' 
 
 She did not answer, but the look in the eyes 
 she kept on his must have told him something, 
 for with a quick exclamation he put his hands on 
 her shoulders. 
 
 Holding her close, he kissed her, swiftly and 
 almost violently, she making no sound nor sign, 
 except a quick smiling gasp. Then he released 
 her, dropping his hands and going hastily out of 
 the door. 
 
XX 
 
 AN hour later Ware came back to the hut door 
 and told her that the Boto was ready. 
 
 ''We have packed and stowed on board all the 
 things we need take, and you luckily haven't got 
 any packing to do,'' he said, cheerful and com- 
 radely. He took down the heavy cotton hammock, 
 rolled it up to go under a seat of the motor boat, 
 and as he walked beside the girl to the water's 
 edge he told her of their chief problems. 
 
 *'My brave dear, we have a few things to con- 
 sider. Not very big difficulties, but if I am going 
 to run off with you to Para it would be rather 
 ignominious to be caught on the way. ... Do you 
 hear my friends the trupials calling good-by from 
 that tall tree? . . . You see, the quickest way to 
 descend the river is to use the motor boat. But 
 she is too light for risking squalls and snags in 
 the central current, while if we hug the banks we 
 lose time. Give me your hand it's steep here." ^ 
 
 They stooped under a vine curtain hung with 
 purple flowers, and as Ware held back the trails 
 from the girl's head it seemed to him that there 
 never had been so heart-rendingly beautiful a 
 thing as her pale face. He looked away and went 
 on speaking steadily. 
 
 ''Any old tub of a steamer can get down from 
 Manaos to Para in two days if she runs in mid- 
 current. We can do it, too, if we take two risks: 
 being recognized, and getting smashed up. The 
 Amazon's pretty dangerous, what with shallow 
 
 247 
 
248 BLACK GOLD 
 
 mns, and floating trunks, and the enchente from 
 the upper reaches when the snow melts, and sud- 
 den squalls and rains. Dangerous for little craft, 
 I mean. The question is whether we should do 
 better to use the motor and keep out of the Ama- 
 zon, working through by some of the side chan- 
 nels — there are scores of them — or to go straight 
 down the river in one of the covered river craft 
 that wouldn't be noticed. It would be all right if 
 we could take it easily, but probably we haven't 
 got time to be careful." 
 
 *'You think they'll be looking out for usf " 
 
 **I don't know. If that Souza crowd gets 
 worked up, you can't tell. Anyway, if they come 
 here they won't find much. And I doubt if any- 
 one besides Guimaraes knew exactly where this 
 hut stands." He dismissed this and returned to 
 the idea of the journey. 
 
 '^If we don't use the motor boat, we must do 
 what I first thought of — go down in Rafael's 
 igarite:and probably the best thing to do is to 
 start out with both of them, the Boto towing the 
 canoe. Rafael lives on a little lake on one of these 
 intricate water paths between the Negro and the 
 Alto Amazonas, and I don't know even whether 
 he's at home or not. I have sent Vicente ahead 
 in his own canoe to tell his brother to get ready, 
 if he is there. We '11 follow in the Boto. Here we 
 are: the sooner we start the better." He tossed 
 the hammock into the boat, shadowed under great 
 trees. 
 
 ^*I can be your assistant engineer," she re- 
 minded him as he helped her in. ** You know I am 
 at home on the water, in any kind of craft 
 almost." 
 
 He started the mechanism, turning his head to 
 
BLACK GOLD 249 
 
 say: '*We can't tell until we try it whether there 
 is enough water for the Boto all the way through 
 this igarape. But this time of the year there ought 
 to be lots of water; usually, so many channels 
 would be flooded that we could take any one of a 
 dozen ways through to the Amazon. ... Sit well 
 under the awning, dear. . . . But we have had 
 so little rain this year, and of course none of the 
 Andes snow has melted yet. You see the sand- 
 banks are not submerged altogether, and gener- 
 ally by this time you couldn't see a bit of them, 
 and the water would be a foot or two up the tree 
 trunks. It has been extraordinarily dry." 
 
 The Boto began to move forward along the path 
 of the black water. As they left the little clearing 
 and entered deeper shadows, they both looked 
 back at it. The sun was brilliant in that airy space. 
 All the birds were silent now, withdrawn to their 
 shady retreats in the upper branches, but a few 
 cicadas strummed lazily and beside the moist edge 
 of the water a myriad butterflies in gold and 
 green panoplies fluttered or settled to suck the 
 moisture. The tall, pale-stemmed trees, the bright 
 flowers that hung wherever the sunlight could 
 reach them, the deep and dark array of the far- 
 ther forest across the backwater, and the clear, 
 burning blue sky, made a series of bright 
 pictures. 
 
 How much water did the Boto draw, Marga- 
 rita wanted to know. Less than a couple of feet. 
 Ware told her, so he thought they could make it. 
 *'But if we do get stuck we shall have to wait 
 until Vicente comes to meet us with his little mon- 
 taria. Heaven send we don't miss him through 
 these interminable water paths. Margarita, I am 
 regarding this as an elopement, and it's the only 
 
250 BLACK GOLD 
 
 one I shall ever have. So if you do really want to 
 come with me, pray to all your stone gods that the 
 water's thirty inches deep.'' 
 
 He steered his boat southwards, following the 
 windings of the dark creek, and leaving the main 
 body of the river Negro to the north. The sun- 
 flecked, tree-shaded channel, appearing at first 
 scarcely wide enough to permit the passage of the 
 Boto, presently spread out into a wide and still 
 lagoon, brooding, silent, deeply shadowed by huge 
 forest trees that stood with their stately trunks 
 rising stark from the motionless water. These 
 trunks reached upwards like enormous pillars 
 without a break until finally, at a great height, 
 they spread in a heavy mass of leaves that com- 
 pletely blotted out the sky. There was no sound 
 from forest or water except when some crea- 
 ture of the igapo, a turtle or a fish, flopped lazily 
 and sent rings rippling over the black surface. 
 
 It seemed as if these dim retreats were almost 
 untenanted but for the struggling masses of ver- 
 dure that climbed and twisted upwards. The 
 trees were of many kinds; here were the tall pale 
 stems of cecropias, bearing long thin branches 
 terminating in palmate leaves with silver backs; 
 there, dark-green trunks, jostled by palms with 
 menacing spines covering their frailness. The 
 smooth-barked trees shot up in long clean lines, 
 their tops lost in the lofty maze; but those with 
 rough trunks were hosts to masses of air plants 
 with dangling roots and large fantastic leaves, to 
 the polished greenery of the orchids, thousands of 
 clustered ferns and the matted ropes of innumer- 
 able lianes. When, here and there, flashes of sun- 
 light penetrated, these dense massed at once took 
 on brilliant hues, with the different shades of 
 
BLACK GOLD 251 
 
 green, the scarlet tufts of the tillandsias, and the 
 sudden splendid glow of pink or yellow or pale 
 violet of a high-perched orchid. 
 
 Traversing rapidly this silent, ink-hued lagoon, 
 ware steered the Boto to a tiny passage that 
 opened out in what seemed like an impervious 
 wall of bushes twined with a tangle of vines. The 
 water lane was here so narrow that the sides of 
 the boat touched the bushes and big, rank ferns 
 brushed their rust-tipped fronds against it. Lusty 
 liliaceous plants with emerald velvet leaves stood 
 in ranks in the shallow water, without motion in 
 that brooding fastness. 
 
 This lane in turn presently widened to a pretty 
 pool, open, sunny, with bright green grassy sides 
 that looked like some familiar pasture; it wa^ 
 when they were about halfway across that the 
 Boto's speed suddenly lessened. She spluttered 
 and stopped. Through the water Margarita, peer- 
 ing over the side, saw lush weeds that seemed as if 
 they had been only lately submerged; the whole 
 pMce was like a meadow, lightly flooded and en- 
 closed with pleasant woods. Ware left the wheel 
 and hung over the stern. '^The propeller's got 
 tangled up with these confounded weeds. 1^1 get 
 out and clear it.'' He kicked off his shoes and 
 climbed over the side. 
 ''I can help you." 
 
 *'0h, no! You stay where yon are. This water 
 looks all right, but there might be piranhas or 
 something . . . your foot is scratched already." 
 He tore away the matted tangle of strong weeds, 
 climbed back into the Boto, and started the en- 
 gine again. *'I'm afraid there isn't very much 
 water here," he said, taking the boat slowly and 
 keeping well to the center. There was no current 
 
252 BLACK GOLD 
 
 in this flood, and no signs of shoaling were vis- 
 ible, but all at once the boat's speed was checked 
 again just as a car might be by a sudden touch of 
 the brake. **Hang it! We've touched bottom," 
 Ware owned. Over the stern the foaming wake 
 could be seen, brown and discolored, showing that 
 they were passing over a patch of shallow water. 
 After an anxious moment or two the boat was 
 going as fast as ever, and Ware breathed sighs 
 of relief until, luck again sulky, the Boto jarred 
 with a distinct bump, the engine slowed and by 
 the sound of the exhaust indicated that a severe 
 strain was being put upon it. It was obvious that 
 the water had shoaled until the propeller was 
 working in the mud. 
 
 There was, however, nothing to do but to at- 
 tempt to push on. Ware eased the clutch, let the 
 engine speed up, and then clutched up again. The 
 Boto jerked forward a few yards before the en- 
 gine slowed once more. Then he put the engine 
 into neutral again, sent Margarita forward to 
 sound with the boathook, and when she reported 
 about two feet of water he called out to her to 
 look out for the bump, threw the clutch in, and 
 had the satisfaction of feeling the boat bounce 
 forward another ten yards or so. Another sound- 
 ing showed a little more water and with yet an- 
 other jerk the Boto cleared the shoal and raced on 
 her way. 
 
 **I'm afraid that hasn't done her any good,'* 
 Ware remarked, listening to the sharp vibration 
 and knocking that told of something strained or 
 loosened. At that moment, just as they were 
 about to enter a blue palm-fringed opening edged 
 with tall wild cane, a small canoe shot forward 
 to meet them, and Vicente cried a greeting. He 
 
BLACK GOLD 253 
 
 climbed aboard the Boto and they went on, tow- 
 ing the montaria, a bark canoe so narrow that the 
 sides touched his body when he sat in it; in that 
 order they quickly traversed the cane-fringed 
 igarape. As they approached the Amazon the 
 character of both water and vegetation began to 
 change; the trees were more varied, with a wealth 
 of undergrowth and shrubs and palms: the water 
 lost its dark clear stain and showed a muddy jBioor 
 when disturbed to any depth. Half a mile farther 
 and the winding water lane, intersected as many 
 others had been by other channels that opened 
 out m a network, finally broadened into a palm- 
 edged lake on whose southern border stood a 
 thatched hut, topping a steep and sandy bank. 
 
 In front of the dwelling, which was little more 
 than a shed, but sweet and clean and backed by 
 garden patches of mandioca and cacao, lay the 
 igarite, a deep and strong canoe some twenty-five 
 feet long by about five feet broad; a rounded 
 cover, the toldo, thatched with leaves and bound 
 with lianes, occupied about a third of the boat's 
 length, nearly filling the space between the mast 
 and the stern. The chief opening, facing the mid- 
 dle of the boat, was half covered with a bark 
 screen, and there was another small opening at 
 the back from which a fixed paddle was operated 
 as a rudder. 
 
 All EafaePs family came down to the water's 
 edge: a couple of thickset, sturdy youths, wear- 
 ing nothmg but cotton trousers rolled up above 
 the knee; EafaePs Indian wife, rather good look- 
 ing, with a broad smile, sleepy eyes, and tattooed 
 cheeks; and four naked little children. They 
 offered the visitors little painted cuias full of 
 cachaga; palm fruit of the forest, and bowls of 
 
254 BLACK GOLD 
 
 mingao, a rather distasteful paste made with 
 maize and water. 
 
 Vicente drank three or four of the little cups 
 of strong liquor without turning a hair, his placid 
 face, like smooth pale wood, never changing, and 
 quickly transferred bundles and cases from the 
 Boto to the igarite, adding a little more farinha, 
 dried piraracu and coffee. Eafael's wife solemnly 
 brought and tied to the igarite 's prow a root of 
 some forest plant — ^Jacuman, for luck. 
 
 *'I want you to sit under the shelter of the 
 toldo," Ware told his lady passenger. **The sun 
 is frightfully hot in the open, and then it's just as 
 well that you shouldn't be seen ... at least, I 
 don't want anyone to look at you but me — this is 
 pure jealousy, you understand, Margarita. And 
 if you laugh at me like that I shall kiss you in 
 front of all these city fathers and there will be a 
 scandal on the Amazon — and besides, it's my de- 
 cent duty not to think about things like that until 
 we get to Para, isn't it?" 
 
 Margarita meekly withdrew to the toldo, John 
 went forward to the Boto, now fastened to the 
 igarite, while Rafael and Vicente, long paddles in 
 their hands, stood up on the front of the igarite, 
 now made fast to the motor boat. 
 
 John called out to Margarita as he started the 
 engine: **Any minute after we get into the main 
 stream we may meet some inquisitive person, 
 and if that happens I may cut the tow rope and 
 ignore you. Don't be frightened if you find your- 
 selves adrift." Frightened! Margarita laughed. 
 Now she was neighbor to water and trees she 
 couldn't be frightened any more . . . only city 
 pavements and people were things of terror. 
 
 Waving farewells to the assembled family on 
 
BLACK GOLD 255 
 
 the lakeside, they started at a fair pace, tlie Boto 
 vibrating harshly but doing her work. Traversing 
 the final stretch of waterway between the Negro 
 and the Amazon, they saw the character of the 
 forest changing yet more decisively. Masses of 
 cana brava stood waving little green flags, lighter 
 foliage appeared, floating water plants and wild 
 bananas and lilies grew thickly at the muddy 
 sides, and the plumed heads of palms bent for- 
 ward from the forest tangle. As the sun dropped 
 the woods awoke and scores of clear, ringing bird 
 voices began to call from the upper branches. As 
 they came out at last into the immense and sun- 
 drenched Amazon, a mighty golden sweeping 
 flood rushing past the tiny water lane with its im- 
 petuous torrent laden with trophies of its power, 
 it was a different world from that of the sombre 
 forests of the black water. 
 
 On the shallow bank at the point where they 
 emerged, a crowd of white wading birds were 
 stalking; the vicious mottled heads of alliga- 
 tors, their long mouths opened showing the cruel 
 teeth and red inner skin, lay in rows on the shelv- 
 ing edge, half in the water, their tiny eyes unmov- 
 ing. A flock of bright green parrots flew, two by 
 two, screaming and scolding with a clatter of rau- 
 cous tongues, across the river. Ware, turning the 
 nose of the Boto downstream, called to Marga- 
 rita: ^*We are going to make our way across, 
 working between those islands — that one's Pa- 
 ciencia. Then we can keep out of the way of the 
 river steamers. . . . That isn't the bank you see 
 over there: that's all islands." 
 
 Margarita crawled forward and called to him: 
 **Are we going to stay in the river?" 
 
 **No! No, I think we can make the channels on 
 
256 BLACK GOLD 
 
 the south without losing any time. Do go back to 
 the toldo, Margarita! And take one of the short 
 paddles just in case of accidents. The current's 
 awfully strong.'' 
 
 Once fairly caught in the fierce Amazonian 
 rush, the Boto doubled her speed; slowed down 
 by the igarite, she had made little more than eight 
 knots since they left Rafael's lake, and now, car- 
 ried along in a smooth sweep, the two boats 
 danced and rocked. Ware took the churning 
 water at a slight angle trying to avoid the cen- 
 tral uproar; they were mercilessly tossed and 
 shaken, but eventually reached the shelter of an 
 opening between two thickly wooded islands, run- 
 ning into a narrow channel a mile long, overhung 
 with bright flowering lianes, full of singing birds. 
 Emerging from this water path, they negotiated 
 another racing muddy stretch, borne downwards 
 by the pressure of the current so far that, at last 
 arrived in the calmer waters close to the right 
 bank, they found that they had been carried past 
 the opening for which they had steered, and were 
 obliged to turn and creep back, hugging the shore 
 beneath the protection of the spreading trees. 
 
 Entering the Autas-Miry channel, decked with 
 feathery little palms, green as English grass, they 
 traversed it with caution until it opened out into 
 a clear blue lake; here the Boto was put to top 
 speed until the water narrowed again, but as the 
 water was still of considerable width they were 
 able to make nine or ten knots with the current 
 without danger, in spite of the long twists of the 
 channel networks. They encountered a couple of 
 slim montarias, paddled by Indians with har- 
 poons; here and there a tiny thatched hut stood 
 off in a nook by the water, sometimes backed by 
 
BLACK GOLD 257 
 
 a dense array of pale-stemmed cacao trees, hung 
 with red pods; but when night fell they had not 
 met more than five or six people. 
 
 With darkness, they tied up to a convenient 
 trunk on the water's edge and got out of the boats 
 to stretch cramped limbs. Ware and the two 
 caboclos made a fire, cooked food, and made coffee. 
 Margarita, still very tired, lay in the hammock 
 that they hung for her near the fire after the meal, 
 and slept soundly until the moon rose and they 
 decided to go on again. When Ware helped her 
 from the hammock she stood for a moment look- 
 ing at the velvet dark forest with a moon sailing 
 overhead so bright that it turned the water to a 
 silver ribbon threading through the marshalled 
 trees, thinking with a pang of the moon above 
 Manaos on the previous night. As they went on 
 again they had to slow the Boto's speed, for the 
 water lanes narrowed and twisted and ran into 
 other floods and little creeks, and often the great 
 forest giants closed overhead and shrouded the 
 face of the stream. 
 
 The night was very clear. No rain had fallen 
 all day, and there were no clouds but a few light 
 wisps that trailed across the moon. The stars 
 seemed to be in enormous quantity, set in spark- 
 ling masses in the living sky, and all this trans- 
 parent array of lights emphasized the brooding 
 dark of the forest, the black tangle of under- 
 growth and vines. 
 
 No one unacquainted with these intricate chan- 
 nels could have guessed the right direction to take 
 among the forest and water network; but Vicente, 
 the steering wheel in his hands, sat beside Ware 
 and guided the Boto without hesitation or com- 
 ment, his face impassive. They turned and 
 
258 BLACK GOLD 
 
 twisted, passed the shoulders of long islands or 
 peninsulas, skirted the borders of wide lagoons. 
 At the sight of one long tree-covered stretch of 
 land. Ware called out to Margarita that this was 
 the Ilha da Trinidade, and the girl, waking from 
 a doze through which she still heard the swish 
 of the water and of the plants that brushed the 
 boat's side, presently heard him say that a dark 
 line on their left must be the Ilha Grande de 
 Serpa. 
 
 **Are you awake, Margarita?" Half sitting at 
 trhe entrance to her shelter, propped up on the 
 Boto's blue cushions, she waved a hand to him: 
 ''How much have we doneT' 
 
 ''About a hundred miles. Not so bad!" He 
 called to Eafael, shut off the engine, ran the Boto 
 close alongside the near bank where a few inches 
 of sand showed above the current, jumped ashore, 
 and, climbing into the igarite, as the motor 
 started again, sat down on one of the thwarts and 
 said with a smile: 
 
 "By Jove, if you are going to stay awake, 
 young woman, I am coming and talk to you for 
 ten minutes. I will go away as soon as you are 
 tired, but I had to come. You were so far off, I 
 couldn't see whether you looked happy or not. 
 Let me see your face, Margarita!" 
 
 Without answering, she turned her head up to 
 the moon, remaining silent, the light full upon her 
 untilJohn whispered: "Look at me! I am afraid 
 of you when you look at the moon! You are too 
 beautiful, and you seem to be a creature not quite 
 real. I used to think you were a wood fairy, 
 Margarita ..." 
 
 At that she laughed, and held out her hand to 
 him: "Indeed I am real, but a little cold. Isn't it 
 
BLACK GOLD 259 
 
 nearly morning? An hour yet? Let's see the sun 
 rise, John. You shouldn't go away and leave me 
 for such a long time when there are wonderful 
 things to look af 
 
 **0h, Margarita!" he said, pressing her little 
 hands to his face, **as if you don't know that I am 
 doing my very best to be discreet — after we get to 
 Para I won't leave you for a single minute all the 
 rest of my life. . . . There 's a rug under the cush- 
 ions there; let me wrap you up in it." He put the 
 rug over her shoulders, sat by her side, lit a cigar 
 of native tobacco, the perfumed tobacco of the 
 upper rivers, and with her hand in his retook the 
 comradeship of the moors. It seemed to both that 
 in those moments of moonlit quiet before the 
 dawn, with the Boto chugging ahead, the rills of 
 racing water beside them, and the dark leaning 
 forest on their right, all the weight of nervous 
 excitement slipped away like a dropped cloak. 
 
 Here was respite, an hour's peace; they did not 
 even try or wish to touch the tremulous happi- 
 ness that fluttered before their hands, thinking of 
 it no more than of the cast fever of Manaos. This 
 hour was one in which they came back without 
 effort to the ready friendship of the first days. 
 
 As they sat, silent in long spaces, now and then 
 speaking idly of the boat, the water, of the good 
 Vicente and Rafael whose voices came in gusts 
 from the Boto, the memory of Luisinha suddenly 
 came to the girl. She had completely forgotten 
 that affair, and as she recalled it now she was 
 filled with astonishment that it had ever seemed 
 important. She said to herself now, calmly, that 
 it didn't matter if it was true; she was sure it 
 didn't matter. It was a past thing, past before 
 she had ever known John Ware; he loved her and 
 
260 BLACK GOLD 
 
 she loved him, and he was not a man ever to have 
 done a thing that was a reproach. In that mood 
 she said to him: **Luisinha — won't she be fright- 
 ened, alone in the seringal by herself! Suppose 
 the Souzas go there and question and annoy 
 herr' 
 
 ''Alone? Where?'' His voice was puzzled. 
 
 *'In your seringal.'' He turned a blank face to 
 her. ''Why, my heart, Luisinha doesn't live in 
 the seringal. It wouldn't be good for the kiddies. 
 She always stays in Manaos, in a little house 
 Vicente's got on the Flores bond line; an old aunt 
 lives with her and helps take care of the 
 children." 
 
 I Astonished, Margarita looked at him in silence. 
 ' "Did you ever notice how fair that eldest child 
 of hers is, the little girl? The poor Luisinha has 
 had a history that is almost tragic. Her face tells 
 you that, doesn't it?" 
 
 Margarita murmured something inarticulate; 
 Ware went on in a low voice: 
 
 "I'll tell you about it; I don't want Vicente to 
 hear me, he's such a good chap, and he was aw- 
 fully cut up; these Indian-blood people seem so 
 stolid, but they are extraordinarily tender- 
 hearted. He and Luisinha are both natives of 
 Ceara, people of the drought country; they were 
 near neighbors, grew up together, always in 
 love ... I don't believe Vicente ever has loved 
 or could love or even look at another woman; he 
 has a genuine passion for her. 
 
 "He was one of a big family, and when he was 
 nineteen or so and wanted to marry Luisinha, 
 neither of them had a penny, and he came to the 
 Amazon as the quickest way of making some 
 money. His elder brother Rafael was already here, 
 
BLACK GOLD 261 
 
 married to the Indian woman you saw at the lit- 
 tle lake. That was four years ago, and I was 
 lucky enough to run across him at that time, when 
 I was fresh to the Amazon too. He is a splendid 
 fellow: he can do anything on earth, is as strong 
 as a horse, and absolutely devoted; he stayed with 
 me two years, saving his money all the time and 
 counting the days until he could go back and 
 fetch Luisinha. When I left the Amazon to take a 
 holiday at home, he came down the river with 
 me to Para, promising to be there again in four 
 months' time when I returned. But he wasn't, 
 and I could hear nothing of him, and concluded 
 that something must have happened to him. I 
 never saw him again or knew the rest of the story 
 until you chanced to notice him on board the 
 Pomha coming up the river." 
 
 He glanced forward at Vicente's face, 
 impassive at the wheel. 
 
 *^ While he had been away upriver, Luisinha 's 
 father and mother both died and she had been 
 taken into the house of a relative in Ceara. Some- 
 how or other she had fallen into the hands of an 
 unscrupulous brute of a cousin. Rather a fool too, 
 I should think. It always seems to me such mad 
 folly to treat a woman badly. Of course I don't 
 know all the circumstances, but anyhow, there she 
 was, unmarried, with a baby girl at her skirts. 
 She was almost dying of wretchedness when 
 Vicente returned from the Amazon, but they seem 
 to have gone straight into each other's arms. He 
 married her at once, nursed her until she was well, 
 and then the cousin came back to the village and 
 had a row with Vicente, and Vicente killed him." 
 
 **0h ! But how did he manage — ^not to be 
 
 punished?" 
 
262 BLACK GOLD 
 
 ''Brazil's unwritten law. These 'crimes of pas- 
 sion' are generally excused, if they're excusable. 
 Vicente had a few months in jail, after a delayed 
 trial, and then somebody got him a pardon. By 
 this time they had a new baby of their own, and 
 decided to come to Manaos. I think the pardon 
 was quite right. I have been long enough in coun- 
 tries where women can't take care of themselves 
 very well to agree with that unwritten law. . . . 
 Look, my sweet, there's the first finger of dawn." 
 
 The girl stood up, looking away from him to 
 the eastern sky, suffused with clear rose above 
 the indigo line of forest. She was ashamed, and 
 thought wildly for a minute of telling John the 
 thing she had believed for a number of days, clos- 
 ing her lips upon speech as she realized the mor- 
 tal indignity she had contemplated. She put out 
 a timid hand to his shoulder, felt herself caught to 
 his heart, and with her face buried vowed that 
 he should never know. When he kissed her she 
 gave back to him the kiss of a woman in love. 
 Beyond his shoulder she saw new dawn: the sheet 
 of rose blushed upwards, turned the far height 
 to amethyst. All the verdure of the forest and 
 the rippling line of the water as they passed took 
 on deep and brilliant colors. 
 
 "I am sleepy, John," said Margarita in a 
 child's voice. She lay and slept while he watched 
 the coming of the blazing day, 
 
XXI. 
 
 WHEN she awoke she saw that the Boto and 
 her convoy lay in a little creek shut in by tiny 
 cliffs of the red tabatinga clay, streaked rosy and 
 tawny; light verdure, like that of a sunny wood 
 in any temperate zone, crowned the cliff, and the 
 mauve spikes of water hyacinth glistened in the 
 bright air, dancing on the water. A dozen yards 
 away rose the smoke of a fire, where Rafael and 
 Vicente negotiated the cooking pots; the scent of 
 coffee drifted along the creek. She stepped out 
 of the igarite on to the narrow strip of shore, and 
 met Ware descending; she borrowed a comb from 
 him, climbed upon the bank to look about her, 
 and, finding a rivulet that made a miniature fall 
 over the little cliff, bathed her face and hands 
 and arranged her scant clothes as well as she 
 could. 
 
 **"What a test of love!" she said, looking at her 
 reflection in the water. **To travel for three days 
 in a black mantilla and a camisole and a torn 
 blue cotton skirt! At least he'll have no illusions 
 about me." But when, coming back to the camp, 
 she looked closely at John, she saw that he too 
 was dressed for the Amazon. He wore a native 
 straw hat, a collarless cotton shirt tucked into a 
 pair of old blue trousers, and wore alpargatas on 
 his feet. He apologized humbly: ^^One doesn't 
 want to be conspicuous . . . but I am rather 
 ashamed to escort you, dearest, for you are so 
 beautiful." She squeezed his arm boldly. They 
 
 263 
 
264 BLACK GOLD 
 
 sat cross-legged on the ground and ate their black 
 beans and bits of stewed fish with the hunger of 
 the outdoor campaigner. As they drank the last 
 drops of coffee he asked her if she knew where 
 she was. Oh, no! 
 
 **Very well! We crossed the Amazon to the left 
 bank while you were still fast asleep, Margarita. 
 We are well past Serpa, I don't know just how 
 far, and headed for Obidos." She interrupted 
 him giggling: 
 
 **I could go and hunt for father's stone turtle 
 there, couldn't I?" 
 
 *^I'm afraid you must wait till we elope th^ 
 next time, Margarita. Now, the question is 
 whether we should stick to the Amazon hence- 
 forth, or whether we should enter the chain of 
 water paths on the north. There is a wonderful 
 row of lakes and backwaters all the way to Obi- 
 dos. But this region is out of my beat, and the 
 boys don't know it at all. We might waste a lot 
 of time trying to find the way." 
 
 Taking Vicente into consultation, he decided 
 to hug the left bank of the river, keeping well 
 under the shelter of the forest and avoiding the 
 treacherous head wind as much as they could. 
 Emerging from the creek into the Amazon, a 
 golden and dazzling flood, they got up speed 
 quickly and made fourteen or fifteen knots with 
 the help of the current. Eafael and Vicente ran 
 the Boto, while Ware stood in the prow of the big 
 canoe armed with a long stout paddle, on the look- 
 out for snags. But such floating trees and 
 branches as there were rolled in the angry central 
 race, and fortune kept safe the little craft. 
 
 They sped past miles of cacao plantations, with 
 long low houses perched on the bank, open to the 
 
BLACK GOLD 265 
 
 sun and all eyes; ran past inlets and tiny farms; 
 then again found themselves running in deep 
 shadow as great trees overhung the water and 
 swung a screen of creepers far out. In the open 
 reaches an insufferable heat beat down when the 
 head wind dropped. 
 
 Along a stretch of clear water, "Ware came and 
 sat beside the girl at the door of her little shel- 
 ter, spreading his map before her. 
 
 *'At Serpa we had made nearly a hundred and 
 twenty miles. Now, going at this clip, with a 
 strong current and no wind against us, we must 
 be doing twenty knots, although we're towing. 
 But weVe still got something like seven hundred 
 miles to make before we get to Para. ' ' 
 
 **It does sound a long way,'' she agreed seri- 
 ously, and he laughed. 
 
 **You darling child, this is quite a long river 
 ^-compared to the Sansoe. We shall pass Villa 
 Bella at midday, with luck — another hundred 
 miles. Then Obidos, nearly a hundred more, be- 
 fore sundown, even if we stop an hour to get some 
 food. Are you hungry, Margarita f 
 
 *'No. It's too hot for beans and farinha.'^ 
 
 **Ah, didn't I tell you the tropics was no place 
 for food? There's too much climate and not 
 enough weather. I am sure you need really abom- 
 inable weather to enjoy food. . . . The Cafe 
 Eoyal and a cold London drizzle outside and a 
 grilled sole. . . . Margarita, do you realize that 
 if I am right about my rubber process, we shall 
 be able to afford a grilled sole now and again 
 when we're married? I don't see why I shouldn't 
 say that, in spite of all my vows, considering we 
 may get to Santarem to-night, and that's halfway 
 to Para. ..." She laughed at this, and he guided 
 
266 BLACK GOLD 
 
 her finger to the Tapajos. **If we were a steamer, 
 we could get to Para from Santarem in twenty- 
 four hours. Are you tired of our river, Margarita 
 sweet r' 
 
 *'I won't tell you. You laughed at my little 
 Sansoe just now." She smiled, but went on al- 
 most anxiously: **John Ware, do you know that 
 I love my moors and little brooks? Very much 
 indeed. I shall never love anything else quite so 
 much. Do you mind? Do you think you will 
 mindr' 
 
 He dropped his map and took both her hands. 
 
 ** Heart of me, I don't mind how many things or 
 how many people you love if you'll keep a nest in 
 your soul for me, always let my invisible hand 
 stay in yours even when you are with others, and 
 come back to me at the end of the day.'* 
 
 She looked back deep into his eyes and said 
 after a moment in a whisper, **I think, I think we 
 should both always come back to our house of 
 faery. ' ' She had not yet said a word of her sight 
 of it from the crest above Manaos, but now be- 
 gan to tell him. **I saw it, among the forest, ever 
 so far away and just as plainly, with the smoke 
 from the chimney and the flowers in the little gar- 
 den and the stepping-stones . . . when I was run- 
 ning away from Manaos that night. It seems so 
 long ago. When I reached the forest edge I was 
 afraid I could never find you, but I saw the house 
 of faery and then I knew I should. ' ' 
 
 *'You saw it? Oh, my little love! Tell me, tell 
 me!" He was greatly moved, and listened to her 
 intently as she tried to explain. **It was among 
 the trees. I stood on the ridge and looked into the 
 forest up the black river — where I thought the 
 black river must run. I could smell the flowers. 
 
BLACK GOLD 267 
 
 The white wall was quite plain in the sunshine. 
 It was beautiful to see it. I didn't mind anything 
 then.'' 
 
 *'0h, Margarita!" He pressed her hands to his 
 eyes, and presently asked her, *^Did you know 
 you belonged there?" 
 
 ** Yes, yes, of course. I knew you belonged there 
 too," she smiled. 
 
 ''You are mine, you know," he said. **As I am 
 yours. " 
 
 ''Yes, of course," she replied again, quite 
 simply. 
 
 "I know you are a wood sprite and that I 
 shall never be quite sure I have you . . . but if 
 you'll do what you said just now, and always 
 come back to our house of faery . . ." 
 
 Vicente's shout interrupted him, and he 
 jumped to the prow, picking up the paddle, in 
 time to save the canoe from more than a bruising 
 jar against a heavy tree trunk wedged among 
 weeds. 
 
 With the cessation of the breeze the sky grad- 
 ually became overcast and the air grew heavy. 
 Fearful lest the threatened rain should presently 
 make it impossible to build a fire, they made fast 
 under a huge silk-cotton tree, hurriedly prepared 
 food and coffee, and finished a scrambled meal 
 just as the steady downpour began. Sheets of 
 gray water fell vertically, dimpling the yellow 
 river, veiling the leaden sky. 
 
 As the Boto started again they ran into sullen 
 water that rolled in long lines; the forest slowly 
 retreated, and the distant shore disappeared al- 
 together from sight. A couple of steamers that 
 passed, churning their way upriver, sending 
 snarling waves against the two small boats, 
 
268 BLACK GOLD 
 
 seemed monstrous seen through the wet shroud. 
 The Amazon was nothing but a neutral-tinted 
 desert, desolate, hopeless, limitless. 
 
 Margarita, sitting cross-legged under the toldo 
 wrapped in a waterproof cape of Ware's, re- 
 mained dry, but the three men were soaked 
 through in a few minutes. The heavy downpour 
 did not seem to retard the Boto; she ploughed 
 along gallantly, but Ware listened to a continuous 
 sullen vibration with increasing anxiety. He con- 
 cluded that something was seriously wrong, and, 
 since repairs were out of the question, the best 
 thing to do was to get the last possible mile out 
 of her. He stayed at the wheel with Vicente, and 
 they pushed the motor as much as they dared in 
 the veil of rain. They passed Villa Bella, invis- 
 ible. Later, when the sun came out brilliantly, 
 drying their thin clothes in a few minutes, they 
 considered putting into Obidos to get petrol. But, 
 with the knocking sound getting rather worse, 
 they decided against that visit, pushed on past 
 the white walls of the riverside city with its ship- 
 ping lying before it, giving the wide mouth of the 
 Trombetas a clear berth. There was a light wind 
 behind them now, and, taking a chance for once, 
 they steered into the central current and got all 
 the help possible from the race. Their speed re- 
 duced the possibility of an accident from an ugly 
 snag. 
 
 They ran in this way until nearly sundown, 
 when the cliffs of Santarem, with the city spread 
 at its feet, came into sight on the southern shore. 
 Here they decided to make a cautious landing, 
 and as the sky turned burning red and blazed in 
 the golden water of the Amazon, Ware steered 
 the Boto into the black water of the Tapajos. Its 
 
BLACK GOLD 269 
 
 strange flood did not mingle with the Amazon, 
 but flowed beside it, gradually streaking out, and 
 in the sunset its dark ripples were tipped with 
 fire like a string of garnets. Night had fallen, 
 still and heavy, before they made a landing below 
 the town, and it was not until they had fortified 
 their courage with black coffee that Ware and 
 Margarita dared to creep through the sleepy by- 
 ways into the outskirts of the town. For they had 
 made up their minds that Santarem must furnish 
 the lady's traveling clothes henceforth, for a com- 
 paratively respectable entry into Para. A cheerful 
 little shop in a straggling side street furnished 
 her with a pair of high-heeled French shoes and 
 white cotton stockings. A stealthy search re- 
 vealed not a single store open where anything 
 like a decent dress could be bought, but an oblig- 
 ing senhora found sitting in a doorway answered 
 their appeal by rising to the occasion herself and 
 selling Margarita a white muslin blouse with too 
 much lace on it. A hat, now! That proved to be 
 the real stumbling-block. By daylight, in the 
 really noble shops, of course, one might have 
 found something, even halfway up the Amazon 
 . . . but after dark, in the side streets. . . . They 
 compromised by buying a big native straw, and 
 came to the conclusion that they would have to 
 enter Para when it was dark. 
 
 Returning to the boats, they decided that it 
 was not wise to try to run the Boto in the dark- 
 ness of the early night, although Vicente volun- 
 teered to do his best with her: Neither he nor 
 Rafael ever seemed to want more than four hours * 
 sleep in each twenty-four. They would wait for 
 the moon, resting until she rose. But the skies re- 
 mained heavy and overcast, although no mora 
 
270 BLACK GOLD 
 
 rain fell, and it was not until the first streak of 
 dawn lit the east above the forest that Ware 
 thought it well to try to push on. 
 
 The Boto was by this time running with a dis- 
 tressing noise and making a considerable amount 
 of water aft, although keeping up a fair speed. It 
 was clear that this state of things could not last 
 long, and after they had been traveling for an 
 hour Ware was not unduly surprised when the 
 engine began to race, the vibration ceased, and 
 the Boto gradually slowed down and stopped. 
 Switching off the engine he leaned over the stern, 
 but could neither see through the muddy water 
 nor reach far enough under the overhanging stem 
 to find out just what was wrong. With Vicente's 
 help he paddled her to the bank, casting off the 
 igarite and leaving her in EafaePs care, and then 
 slipping over the side he felt cautiously for the 
 propeller shaft but found nothing there. Exam- 
 ing farther, he was confirmed in his fears that the 
 shaft had broken just outside the stern tube, and 
 that the broken part, propeller, and bracket were 
 all missing. 
 
 ** She's done for, this trip. We shall have to 
 leave her," Ware called to Margarita. They 
 found a tiny water opening a hundred yards 
 farther on, paddled the Boto towards it and 
 pushed her in, wedging her sides into the stiff 
 clay and concealing her with the thick bushes that 
 grew down to the margin. All her portable fittings 
 were quickly transferred to the igarite, and then, 
 hoisting the blue-dyed sail, they abandoned the 
 Boto and set out on the last half of the journey. 
 There was a light breeze blowing from the north- 
 west, and with Rafael and Vicente attendant upon 
 the sail while Ware operated a long paddle and 
 
BLACK GOLD 271 
 
 Margarita steered with the fixed blade at the 
 back, they skimmed along beside the right bank 
 without feeling too humble, even when a big Eng- 
 lish steamer from Iquitos bore down the middle 
 of the river and nearly washed them into the 
 thorny bushes. When they became hungry 
 enough to think about breakfast, it was in vain 
 that they searched for a landing place until at 
 length they came upon a little red-clay eminence 
 with an ambitiously built wooden house standing 
 on it. ''LenJia/' painted upon a big signboard, 
 told the little passing river steamers that they 
 could buy wood for fuel here. 
 
 Tied up to the posts in front of the house was, 
 indeed, one of these small craft, of the kind 
 *^ guaranteed to sail on a heavy dew'' that run up 
 a hundred of the Amazonian water byways, fetch- 
 ing and carrying and doing all the odd jobs of the 
 tremendous riverine areas that the big steamers 
 disdain and the trading canoes leave undone. This 
 little gaiola was now returning to Para with an 
 assortment of f orestal drugs, a few bags of cacao, 
 some caucho rubber, a stack of dried fish, and a 
 precious load of castanha — '^Brazil" — and the 
 big sweet sapucaia nuts. 
 
 The captain, a big stout half Indian with eyes 
 that twinkled and disappeared in his broad fat 
 cheeks when he laughed, hailed the igarite pleas- 
 antly, offering them help in tying up, and sending 
 a negro boy to them with a pan of live charcoal 
 to forward the preparation of almoQo. He was 
 going on in half an hour: did they want a tow? 
 He urged this kindness with the ready comrade- 
 ship of the river. And could they lend him some 
 sugar? They could and did, but after a hurried 
 consultation decided not to accept the tow. The 
 
272 BLACK GOLD 
 
 gaiola was sure to take the middle of the river, 
 and this was ^n impetuous-running part of the 
 Amazon. They were doing very well by them- 
 selves, with the breeze in their bright blue sail. 
 
 When they went on they were able to run al- 
 most in shadow, close to the right bank where high 
 arching trees spread well over the water, hanging 
 a curtain of flowering vines between the sheltered 
 water path and the blaze of the open river. The 
 water looked smooth, but ran with immense 
 power, singing against the sturdy dark-green 
 water plants. They were so close to the forest that 
 once Margarita, sitting against the corner of the 
 toldo, could almost have stretched out her hand 
 and touched the bizarre painted body of a big 
 toucan that sat on a low branch, his enormous 
 rainbow-colored bill half open as if with aston- 
 ishment. 
 
 With constant good luck in the matter of wind, 
 they traveled fast all the rest of that day, taking 
 turns to steer and sail the steady little craft; 
 there was no other stop, for Margarita heated 
 tins of soup over the pan of charcoal, and they 
 poured mandioca flour into their bowls and ate 
 contentedly. When night fell they were running 
 past sheer forest walls with no sign of an open- 
 ing. With dropped wind, a straight-falling driz- 
 zling rain, and the sail useless, they were using 
 three paddles constantly, each of the four taking 
 a rest in turn. The disappearance of the sun her- 
 alded the closing in of complete blackness, in 
 which they precariously crept along, burning a 
 torch in order to keep clear of tangling bushes 
 and to seek a landing place. 
 
 About half an hour after nightfall, a light sud- 
 denly twinkled in front, and they almost ran into 
 
BLACK GOLD 273 
 
 the posts of a palm-thatched hut that stood in 
 the water. They hailed the dwellers with a bless- 
 ing, intending to ask only for permission to tie up 
 to the family canoe-hitching post. But when a 
 dark, frail woman with a baby on her hip came 
 to the shutter space and saw the big canoe, she at 
 once courteously invited the travelers into her 
 house. Her husband and son were away, she said, 
 and she would be glad of the company of gente 
 decente; she smiled at Margarita, and accepted a 
 present of coffee with grace. 
 
 Her house was built on a simple plan; half was 
 completely sheltered, and was hung with a couple 
 of cotton hammocks; the rest was screened only 
 on two sides, and here a string hammock was sus- 
 pended. The family stores hung from the roof, 
 there were a couple of stools, a few half gourds, 
 a painted tin box, the portrait of a saint with a 
 candle in front of it; hardly anything more. But 
 the manners of the hostess would have honored 
 any palace. She helped the visitors to prepare 
 their supper and offered Margarita her own ham- 
 mock in the interior room. But the girl could not 
 endure the oppressive inner air and elected to 
 sleep in the outside hammock, while the three 
 men went back to the igarite. 
 
 All night the girl lay across the hammock, 
 hearing the soft passing of the river under the 
 hut, the stealthy movements of the forest behind 
 her, black, close-ranked, and secret, and from time 
 to time the strange wild cry of some hidden 
 creature. She slept little, tormented by the mos- 
 quitoes and the tiny, more maddening flies that 
 sang over her head and bit remorselessly at her 
 uncovered neck and hands and feet. 
 
 Next morning, it seemed as if luck had turned 
 
274 BLACK GOLD 
 
 against them. The air was stifling, with not the 
 ghost of a breeze, and with the full dawn a steady 
 screen of rain began to fall. Margarita was sit- 
 ting on the edge of the veranda, bathing her 
 swollen and fevered ankles when Ware came out 
 from the toldo. '*My poor little dear!" he said, 
 looking upon her with distress, and at once went 
 back, grouped among his packages, and emerged 
 with a tiny bottle of oil that he smeared over the 
 bites. Margarita thought the smell of the oil 
 rather worse than the stinging bites, but held her 
 tongue. 
 
 When they had drunk coffee they started 
 again after many courtesies, with all three now 
 paddling while the girl steered. A head wind 
 lashed the rain and river against them, and they 
 made slow progress. They worked doggedly, 
 soaked to the skin, until about ten o'clock the 
 rain ceased suddenly and a bright sun came out. 
 The river was like a steam bath for a little while, 
 and presently all the world smiled, trees and river 
 shining. An hour later, they rounded a bend and 
 came upon the gaiola, engaged as before in tak- 
 ing on wood for her fires. The captain, greeting 
 them like bosom friends restored, roared at the 
 immense joke of a canoe overtaking his steamer: 
 but he had spent the night with his padrinho, at 
 this station. Would they have a tow now? 
 
 They would, when Margarita threw her vote 
 in its favor, and thence sped onward at a re- 
 spectable speed in the wake of the stocky little 
 trader. Ware and the caboclos took it in turn to 
 sit at the prow, paddle in hand, to try to avert 
 any possible trouble with floating debris, but the 
 light igarite, although threatened more than once 
 
BLACK GOLD 275 
 
 with islands of weeds and branches, pushed them 
 aside or danced over them without injury. 
 
 The river remained hazy, with a rather sub- 
 dued sun that set in an orange glow, but there 
 was no more rain. About noon the little steamer 
 stopped to deliver a bolt of red cotton cloth at a 
 tiny village, and courteously invited Ware^s 
 party on board for lunch. When the meal was 
 over he drew Ware aside and suggested that the 
 lady, at whom he had looked with a kind of 
 admiring pity, should come aboard the gaiola. . . . 
 He had little accommodation, but the boat's re- 
 sources were at her disposition ... it was plain 
 that the lady was not accustomed to live in 
 canoes . . . 
 
 Ware thanked him, repeated the offer, and 
 found it coldly received. Not now at least! He 
 must let her go back to the igarite till nightfall. 
 She took up her post at the steering paddle with 
 a professional air. The long afternoon passed 
 without incident; the canoe swayed and flew 
 behind the snorting little steamer, with lines of 
 perpetual green forest in an unending vista. The 
 caboclos sang softly as they sat forward, their eyes 
 on the river and heavy sticks in their hands, 
 ready for accidents, with Ware at the prow. At 
 sundown the captain stopped for another call, 
 taking on a few balls of rubber and buying a 
 dozen bunches of green bananas from a cheerful 
 friend who offered hospitality to all his visitors. 
 They accepted the ceremonial coffee, and Ware 
 managed to buy a chicken, subsequently slain and 
 stewed with a handful of peppers over a blazing 
 camp fire, but Margarita did not want to go into 
 the house. They ate supper on a tiny spit of white 
 
276 BLACK GOLD 
 
 sandy ground with a feathery background of 
 pahns. 
 
 Here, while the caboclos washed the scant 
 dishes and talked interminably, Ware took the 
 girl's hand and spoke with seriousness. 
 
 ''My heart, do you know what is the most sen- 
 sible thing for you to do now! You should, you 
 really must, Margarita, go on board the gaiola. 
 She is a funny little tub, but she is steady and 
 safe, and you can be much more comfortable. She 
 is a palace compared to the canoe — and you have 
 spent three days in this way already. I must not 
 let you suffer these discomforts any longer. There 
 is no need for it." 
 
 *'I like it," she protested. He took no notice. 
 
 ''Please, my sweet, let me put you in charge of 
 that very decent old captain. I will send Vicente 
 to look after you too if you like." 
 
 She regarded him innocently. 
 
 "And what about you, John Waref " 
 
 "It would not be very discreet of me to come 
 with you. Now would it? My precious child, I 
 am giving you the chance, I hope you see, to leave 
 me for a little while. You will never in your life 
 get rid of me altogether. But for your entry into 
 Para, dear, wouldn't it look better-- — " ^ 
 
 She began to laugh, her head against his sleeve. 
 "You are talking like — like Mrs. Grenville," she 
 said, and, sitting up, began to scold him. 
 
 "Why, John Ware, you want to spoil my adven- 
 ture! Here you are behaving as if I were a silly 
 little creature afraid of her aunts! Evidently you 
 don't know my father! He would be thoroughly 
 ashamed of me if I went and climbed into that 
 steamer. And as to Brooke, he'd never speak to 
 
BLACK GOLD 277 
 
 me again. 1 wonder Sitjovil Youdon't realize the 
 sort of family I've gof 
 
 If Ware smiled to himself, he insisted sternly. 
 
 **But, Margarita, the canoe might tip over/' 
 
 **Well, if it does, what kind of a story should I 
 be able to tell at Sansoe if I wasn't in her when it 
 happened? Don't you know I am going to brag 
 about this all the rest of my life! Anyone would 
 think you wanted to shame me in the eyes of my 
 own friends and relations? No, senhor, you won't 
 have this tale to yourself. Don't you imagine for 
 one minute that I am going on board that steamer 
 without you." 
 
 She stopped, and added in a meek little voice, 
 **We are eloping, aren't we? You said so. Don't 
 let's spoil it. John, let me stay with you." 
 
 The firelight had flickered low and the warm 
 tropic dark closed about them. The voices of the 
 caboclos seemed to come from a long distance. 
 Ware whispered to her, ** Margarita, Margarita, 
 do you know how much I love you?" 
 
 She touched his hair with the gesture of the 
 woman, looked at him in the scented dimness with 
 the eternal eyes of the woman who sees man al- 
 ways as a child, the mother eyes of the wise and 
 very tender. She said gently: **The forest is so 
 near us now, this great endless forest, and this 
 great endless river, with so much wide, wide sky 
 above them. It has been so beautiful, so consoling 
 after all that fever and noise of people. All that 
 seems like a strange dream. But the river and the 
 forest, they are real. We can neither of us ever 
 lose or forget this. ' ' 
 
 He kissed the palms of her hands. 
 
 ** Perhaps," she said, **we shall have to spend 
 
278 BLACK GOLD 
 
 nearly all the rest of our lives in houses, under 
 roofs. ' ' 
 
 The captain again decided to spend the night 
 ashore; he was in no hurry. But after a smoke 
 and a few hours' sleep Ware saw the moon rise in 
 so clear a sky that he agreed with Vicente that it 
 was well to take advantage of the favorable 
 breeze and run the canoe on. 
 
 He tried not to waken Margarita, asleep under 
 the toldo and screened with mosquito netting to 
 keep away the myriad flies that beseiged the boat 
 when it was not in motion. Lulled by the gentle 
 swaying, she slept deep. But with the approach 
 of dawn a stronger wind sprang up, the canoe 
 flew in the strong current, and she waked to see 
 a strange sight. 
 
 The forest and sky were still dim, in waning 
 moon and starlight; half the sky was darkened 
 by heavy cloud banks that lay across the eastern 
 sky. But behind them the rising sun, still hidden, 
 sent invisible shafts that touched the water and 
 turned it to burning gold. She stood up and saw 
 a flood of molten light glowing between the dark- 
 lines of the forest; for a long minute the river 
 was a bright wonder, a path of splendor from 
 magic lands. In another few seconds the sun had 
 pierced his way through the clouds, the sky 
 flamed, and the river was again nothing but 
 water. On the north a line of flat-topped blue 
 ridges stood against, took shape, the mountains 
 that marked the approach to Para. 
 
 The isolation of the journey had passed. Hence- 
 forth, as they crept eastwards under the mar- 
 shalled ranks of matted trees, they sailed and pad- 
 dled in company with the kindly traffic of the 
 river. Their boat was one with the craft of the 
 
BLACK GOLD 279 
 
 river traders, hailed and greeted continually with 
 the freemasonry of the Amazon. Margarita sat 
 back within the shelter of the toldo, a hand upon 
 the steering paddle, while Ware and the caboclos 
 took turns at the sail. 
 
 In the Narrows, where the friendly long-legged 
 huts stood in the water, the gaiola passed and sa- 
 luted them cheerfully. A score of canoes came 
 and went beneath the hanging vines. 
 
 Emerging from the channel they entered at 
 last the swollen waters of the Guama, and found 
 themselves in the track of the busy highway out- 
 side Para. Motor launches scurried past, painted 
 with gay colors, jostling the slender canoes; flat 
 rafts floated lazily, laden with piles of big black 
 rubber balls, sending a strange and persistent 
 smell into the heavy air. Covered craft and nar- 
 row dugouts of a score of different shapes and 
 sizes negotiated the river in common with fussy 
 little steamers, all hurrying with their lumps of 
 black gold to the rich and hungry markets. Now, 
 far ahead, rose the raking funnels of a proud 
 transatlantic liner, lying at her moorings as she 
 waited for her rubber cargo. 
 
 The runaways clasped hands. The river and the 
 forest lay behind, already vanishing in a haze of 
 gold and green. Before their eyes the roofs of 
 Para promised the gateway of the broad sea, the 
 world itself. 
 
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