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Sunday, August 18, 2019
the conscience :: essays research papers
She could not take it anymore. She was convinced that she could no longer endure the presence of that hateful vagabond. She was determined to end it, end everything, no matter how bad it might be, rather than bear his tyranny. Â Â Â Â Â It had nearly been fifteen days with that struggle. What she didn't understand was the tolerance that Antonio had with that vagabond. No, truthfully, it was strange. Â Â Â Â Â The vagabond begged for hospitality for one night: the night of Ash Wednesday exactly, when the wind dragged along a blackish dust, whirling, and whipped the glass windows with a dry crackle. Afterwards, the wind ceased, and there befell a strange calm to the earth, and she pondered, while closing and adjusting the window blinds. Â Â Â Â Â --I don't like this calm-- Â Â Â Â Â She hadn't even locked the back door when that man arrived. She heard his call ringing from behind the door in the kitchen: Â Â Â Â Â --Kind lady...-- Â Â Â Â Â Mariana felt sudden fear. The man, old and raggedy, was there; a hat in one hand, with a begging manner. Â Â Â Â Â --Shall God protect you...--he started to say. But the vagabond's eyes looked upon her in a strange way. A way that robbed her of words. Â Â Â Â Â Many men like him begged for the grace of heaven on winter nights. But something about that man frightened her without motive. Â Â Â Â Â The vagabond began to recite his ballad: For one night, if they would kindly let him sleep in a stable; a piece of bread and a stable; he doesn't ask for more. Â Â Â Â Â The storm announced its coming... Â Â Â Â Â Outside, Mariana heard the drumming of the rain against the door. A deaf rain, thick, a warning of the approaching storm. Â Â Â Â Â I'm alone--she said dryly--. I mean...when my husband is away, I do not want unknown people in my house. Go, and may God protect you. Â Â Â Â Â But the vagabond remained still, looking at her. Slowly, he put his hat on and said: --I'm a poor man, kind lady. I never did any wrong to anyone. I ask very little: a piece of bread... Â Â Â Â Â In that moment, two maids, Marcelina and Salome, came running in. They came from the vegetable garden, with their aprons over their heads, screaming and laughing. Mariana felt a strange relief after seeing them. Â Â Â Â Â Well--she said--. Fine... but only for this night. For tomorrow when I awake, I do not find you here.... Â Â Â Â Â The old man knelt, smiling, and said a strange poem of thanks. Â Â Â Â Â Mariana ascended the stairs and went to go to bed.
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