CHAPTER IV.
THE FAZENDA DO RIO D'OURO.
My journey was continued thus under rather singular circumstances--atthe mercy of an Indian whose perfidy had been already abundantlyproved, and from whom I could expect no good.
However, I was well armed, vigorous, resolute, and set out in prettygood spirits, convinced that my guide would never attack me to my face.
I beg to state that I was wrong in attributing bad intentions to thepoor Indian, and that my precautions were unnecessary. Don Torribio anddon Zeno Cabral had said the truth; the rude correction inflicted on myGuaranis had had the most salutary influence on him, and had entirelymodified his intentions towards me.
He became more lively, more amiable, and especially more of a talker;I took advantage of this change in his disposition to sound him withregard to don Zeno Cabral.
This time also I completely failed, not because the Indian refused toanswer me, but on account of his ignorance. In a few words, this is allI succeeded in learning.
Don Zeno Cabral was well known, and especially much feared by all theIndians who live on the desert, and who unceasingly traverse it inevery direction. He was to them a strange, mysterious, incomprehensiblebeing, whose power was very great. No one knew his regular abode; healmost possessed the attribute of ubiquity, for he had been seen atdistances far removed from each other almost at the same time; theIndians had often laid traps to kill him without ever having succeededin inflicting on him the slightest wound.
He often disappeared for months together without their knowing what hadbecome of him, then they saw him suddenly camped in their midst withouttheir knowing how he had arrived there.
On the whole, the Indians, apart from the respectful fear he hadinspired in them, for the most part were much indebted to him; no onebetter than he knew how to cure those maladies supposed to be incurableby their sorcerers.
This information, if I can so call the timid and superstitiousramblings of my guide, left me more perplexed than I was before withregard to this man, whom everything tended to surround in my eyes witha mysterious halo.
A word uttered, perhaps, by chance by the Indian aroused still more myinsatiable curiosity.
"He is a Paulista," he said to me, in a subdued voice, lookingcautiously around him, as if he feared that this word might fall uponan indiscreet ear.
On several occasions during my stay at Buenos Aires, I had heard of thePaulistas: the information which had been given me with regard to them,although for the most part very incomplete and erroneous, had, however,greatly excited my curiosity.
The Paulistas, or Vicentistas, for these two names are indifferentlyapplied to the early historians, first settled in the vast andmagnificent plains of Piratininga. There was then organised under theintelligent and paternal direction of the two Jesuits, Antieta andNobrega, a colony within a colony--a sort of half barbarous metropolis,which owes to its courage a continually increasing prosperity andinfluence, and the exploits of which if some day they are related, willform, I am convinced, a most interesting chapter in the history ofBrazil.
Thanks to the intervention of the Jesuits in Brazil, the Europeans didnot disdain to ally themselves with those strong and bellicose Indianraces who so long held the Portuguese in check, and sometimes droveback the conquerors.
From these alliances there arose a warlike race--brave, inured to allkinds of fatigue, and remarkably daring, who, well governed, producedthe Paulistas.
Several serious charges are laid at their door; they have been accusedfrom the very foundation of their colony of having shown an indomitableand independent disposition, an affected disdain for the laws of themother city, and an unheard-of pride towards the other colonists.
To these accusations the Paulistas have given the most complete denial.
The province of St. Paul, peopled by them alone, is now the mostcivilised, the most industrious, and the richest in Brazil.
I urged my journey as much as possible, the rather because my guide hadinformed me that the fazenda do Rio d'Ouro, where don Zeno Cabral hadgiven me a rendezvous, was situated on the frontier of the province ofSt. Paul, of which it was one of the richest and most vast achievements.
In order the more quickly to reach the end of our long journey, myguide, notwithstanding the difficulties of the way, had led us alongthe inundated banks of the Rio Uruguai.
On the fourth day after our departure from the rancho, we reached theAldea of Santa Anna, the first Brazilian station in ascending the river.
The excessive rise of the river had caused terrible ravages in thismiserable village, composed of scarcely a dozen ranchos. Several hadbeen carried away by the waters, the remainder were threatened withspeedy inundation; the poor inhabitants, reduced to the most frightfuldistress, were camped on a little hill, awaiting the withdrawal of thewaters.
Nevertheless, these poor people, spite of their misery, received us inthe most hospitable way, placing at our disposal everything they couldfurnish us with.
It was with an unspeakable pang of the heart and profound gratitudethat on the next day at sunrise I left these good people, whooverwhelmed us at our departure with wishes for the success of ourjourney.
I continued to advance through a charming and varied landscape. Threedays after my halt at Santa Anna, about two o'clock in the afternoon,at an angle of the route, I suddenly turned my head, and in spite ofmyself I stopped, uttering a cry of admiration at the unexpected sightof the most delicious country I had ever contemplated.
My Guaranis smiled with joy. It was to him that I owed this splendidsurprise, which he had been preparing for me for some hours by inducingme to take, under pretext of shortening the journey, concealed pathsthrough almost impenetrable woods.
Before me, almost at my feet, for I had stopped on the summit of anelevated hill, extended--enclosed in a horizon of verdure, formedby a belt of virgin forest--a landscape of about ten leagues incircumference, of which, thanks to my position, my eye took in theminutest details. About the centre of this landscape, over an extentof two leagues, was a lake, the transparent waters of which were anemerald green in colour--the wooded and beautiful picturesque mountainswhich surrounded it were covered in some places with plantations.
We were on the spot where the Curitiba or Guazu, a rather importantriver, an affluent of the Parana, that we had reached, after havingtraversed the Paso de los Infieles, enters the lake.
At the entry of the Guazu I perceived an isle which my guide assuredme had formerly floated, but which had by degrees approached the bank,where it had become fixed. At first formed by aquatic plants, thevegetable earth had been heaped up there, and now it is covered withpretty thick wood. Then, in the distance, in the midst of a ravinebetween two hills covered with wood, I perceived a considerable numberof buildings raised like an amphitheatre, and surmounted by a tallsteeple.
Below the rugged steep, on the summit of which these buildings weresituated, the Guazu rushed along, struggling over the obstacles thatabrupt rocks, covered with a verdant lichen, opposed to its course;then, dividing into several arms, it lost itself, after innumerablemeanderings, in the sombre valleys which stretched right and left. Icould not take my eyes from the spectacle of nature in this grand,wild, and really imposing form. I remained there as though fascinated,not caring either to advance or recede, so great was the emotion thatI experienced, and, forgetting everything, still looking without beingsatiated at this splendid view, to which nothing can be compared.
"How beautiful!" I cried.
"Is it not?" replied the guide.
"What is this magnificent country called?"
"Do you not know, mi amo?" said the Indian.
"How should I know, when I come here today for the first time?"
"Why, because this country is well known, mi amo," replied he; "peoplecome from long distances to see it."
"I doubt it not, but I should like to know its name."
"You see before you the fazenda do Rio d'Ouro; in former days all thesemountain
s that you see were filled with gold and precious stones."
"And now?" I asked, interested in spite of myself.
"Oh, now they do not work the mines; they are exhausted or inundatedwith water. The master pretends that it is much better to work theearth."
"He is not wrong. What is the name of the good man who reasons sojudiciously?"
"I do not know, mi amo; they pretend that the fazenda, and all thelands appertaining to it, belong to don Zeno Cabral, but I should notdare to assert it; but, for that matter, it would not astonish me, forsingular things are related as to what passes in the caldeiras thatyou see down there," added he, pointing with his finger to three roundholes in the form of a funnel, pierced in the rocks.
"What do they relate, then, that is so extraordinary?"
"Oh, frightful things, mi amo, and things which I, a poor Indian,should never dare to repeat."
It was in vain I pressed my guide to explain himself; I could only drawfrom him ejaculations of fright, accompanied by innumerable signs ofthe cross. Wearied of doing so, I gave up asking any farther about asubject which appeared to displease him so much.
"In what time will we arrive at the fazenda?" I asked.
"In four hours, mi amo."
"Do you think that don Zeno will already have arrived, and that weshall meet him?"
"Who knows, mi amo? If the senor don Zeno wishes to have arrived there,he will be there."
Beaten on this point as on the first, I finally gave up asking my guidequestions, to which, according to his pleasure, he made such ridiculousanswers, and I confined myself to giving him the order to proceed.
By degrees, as we ascended the valley, the landscape changed, andassumed aspects of a striking character. I thus traversed, withoutperceiving it, the pretty considerable space which separated me fromthe fazenda.
At the moment when we began to ascend a rather wide and well-kept paththat conducted to the first buildings, I perceived a horseman who wasgalloping towards me at full speed.
My guide touched me lightly on the arm with a quiver of fear.
"Do you not recognise him? It is the seigneur don Zeno Cabral."
"Impossible!" I cried.
The Indian shook his head several times.
"Nothing is impossible to senor Zeno," murmured he, in an undertone.
I looked more attentively; I recognised, indeed, don Zeno Cabral, myold companion of the pampa. He wore the same costume as at our firstmeeting.
In a minute he was near me.
"Welcome to the fazenda do Rio d'Ouro," said he to me joyfully, holdingout his right hand, which I grasped cordially; "have you had a goodjourney?"
"Excellent, I thank you, although very fatiguing. But," added I,noticing a slight smile on his lips, "although I do not yet rank myselfwith a traveller of your calibre, I begin to be perfectly accustomed toit; moreover, the aspect of your beautiful country has completely mademe forget my fatigue."
"Is it not beautiful?" said he with pride; "And does it not merit to beseen and appreciated?"
"Certainly."
"You have been satisfied with this bribon, I suppose," said he, turningtowards the guide, who kept himself modestly and timidly in thebackground.
"Quite satisfied; he has completely redeemed his fault."
"I knew it already, but I am happy to hear you say so, that puts me ongood terms with him."
"Go on ahead, picaro, and announce our arrival."
The Indian did not wait for a repetition of the order.
"These Indians are singular characters," said don Zeno, looking afterhim "you can only subdue them by threatening them with harshness; but,on the whole, they are not bad."
"You except without doubt," I answered, smiling, "those who wished todo you so bad a turn when I had the pleasure of meeting you."
"Why should I do that? The poor devils acted with good intentions, fromthe point of view produced by their narrow ideas."
"Do you not fear to become one day the victim of their perfidy?"
"It will be as it shall please God; as to me, I shall accomplish themission that I have imposed upon myself; but never mind that, you willremain some time with us, will you not, Don Gustavio?"
"Two or three days only," I answered.
"You are in a great hurry," said my host.
"By no means; I am absolutely master of my time."
"Then, why do you wish to leave us so quickly?"
"Why," I replied, not knowing exactly what to say, "I am afraid ofdiscommoding you."
"Don Gustavio," said don Zeno Cabral, "abandon once for all thoseEuropean fashions, which are out of place here; you cannot discommodea man like me, whose fortune amounts to millions of piastres, who ismaster, under God, of a territory of more than thirty square leagues,and who commands more than two thousand white, red, and black people.In accepting frankly the hospitality that such a man freely offers you,as to a friend and a brother, you do him honour."
"Upon my word," I answered, "my dear host, you have a style of doingthings which makes a refusal absolutely impossible, so do with me asyou like."
"Well and good, that's speaking plainly, without circumlocution orreticence. But make yourself easy; perhaps even if your vagabondnotions still possess your heart, I shall make, some days hence, aproposition which will make you smile."
"What?" I eagerly exclaimed.
"I will tell you, but hush! Here we are arrived."
Five minutes later, indeed, we entered the fazenda, between a doublerow of servants.
I shall not dilate on the style in which hospitality was offered me inthis truly princely abode.
Some days passed, during which my host endeavoured in every way toamuse me.
However, notwithstanding all his efforts to appear cheerful, I remarkedthat something weighed on his mind. I did not dare to ask him about it,fearing to appear impertinent, but I waited with impatience till heafforded me an opportunity to satisfy my curiosity, by asking him somequestions which I had continually on my lips, and which I with greatdifficulty repressed.
At last, one evening, he entered my room. A servant, who accompaniedhim, carried several bundles of papers.
After telling the servant to put these papers on the table, and sendinghim away, don Zeno seated himself near me, and after a moment ofreflection--
"Don Gustavio," said he, "I have spoken of an expedition in which Ithought of having your company."
"Just so," I answered, "and I am ready to follow you, Don Zeno."
"Thank you, my friend; but before accepting your consent, let me giveyou some words of explanation."
"Do so."
"The expedition in question is one of a most serious character; it isdirected towards well-known countries, which have been rarely, and atlong intervals, trodden by the foot of the white man. We shall havenearly insurmountable obstacles to overcome--terrible dangers to run.Notwithstanding the precautions I have taken to secure our safety, Imust tell you that we risk death in the midst of hordes of savages. Asto me, my sacrifice is made."
"And are you going?"
"Yes, I am going, for I have the most important reasons for doing so;but as to you, your position is not the same, and I do not see whatright I have to take you with me in a desperate venture."
"I shall go with you, Don Zeno, come what may; my decision is taken, myresolution will not change."
"Well," he said, in an agitated voice, "I shall not argue anymore.Several times we have spoken between ourselves about the Paulistas; youhave asked me for information about them; that information you willfind in these notes that I leave you. Read them attentively, they willmake you acquainted with the motives for the expedition that I nowundertake."
It is these notes, placed in order by me, followed by an account ofthe expedition in which I took part, that the reader is now about toperuse. I have only taken the precaution to change certain names anddates, in order not to wound the just susceptibility of persons stillliving, and worthy, according to all report, of the estimation in w
hichthey are held in Brazil.
The Guide of the Desert Page 4
