The Story of an African Farm

by Olive Schreiner

  Chapter 1.XIII. He Makes Love.

  "Here," said Tant Sannie to her Hottentot maid, "I have been in thishouse four years, and never been up in the loft. Fatter women than I goup ladders; I will go up today and see what it is like, and put it torights up there. You bring the little ladder and stand at the bottom."

  "There's one would be sorry if you were to fall," said the Hottentotmaid, leering at Bonaparte's pipe, that lay on the table.

  "Hold your tongue, jade," said her mistress, trying to conceal a pleasedsmile, "and go and fetch the ladder."

  There was a never-used trap-door at one end of the sitting room: thisthe Hottentot maid pushed open, and setting the ladder against it, theBoer-woman with some danger and difficulty climbed into the loft. Thenthe Hottentot maid took the ladder away, as her husband was mending thewagon-house, and needed it; but the trap-door was left open.

  For a little while Tant Sannie poked about among the empty bottles andskins, and looked at the bag of peaches that Waldo was supposed to haveliked so; then she sat down near the trap-door beside a barrel of saltmutton. She found that the pieces of meat were much too large, and tookout her clasp-knife to divide them.

  That was always the way when one left things to servants, she grumbledto herself: but when once she was married to her husband Bonaparte itwould not matter whether a sheep spoiled or no--when once his rich auntwith the dropsy was dead. She smiled as she dived her hand into thepickle-water.

  At that instant her niece entered the room below, closely followed byBonaparte, with his head on one side, smiling mawkishly. Had Tant Sanniespoken at that moment the life of Bonaparte Blenkins would have run awholly different course; as it was, she remained silent, and neithernoticed the open trap-door above their heads.

  "Sit there, my love," said Bonaparte, motioning Trana into her aunt'selbow-chair, and drawing another close up in front of it, in which heseated himself. "There, put your feet upon the stove too. Your aunt hasgone out somewhere. Long have I waited for this auspicious event!"

  Trana, who understood not one word of English, sat down in the chair andwondered if this was one of the strange customs of other lands, that anold gentleman may bring his chair up to yours, and sit with his kneestouching you. She had been five days in Bonaparte's company, and fearedthe old man, and disliked his nose.

  "How long have I desired this moment!" said Bonaparte. "But that agedrelative of thine is always casting her unhallowed shadow upon us. Lookinto my eyes, Trana."

  Bonaparte knew that she comprehended not a syllable; but he understoodthat it is the eye, the tone, the action, and not at all the rationalword, that touches the love-chords. He saw she changed colour.

  "All night," said Bonaparte, "I lie awake; I see naught but thy angeliccountenance. I open my arms to receive thee--where art thou, where? Thouart not there!" said Bonaparte, suiting the action to the words, andspreading out his arms and drawing them to his breast.

  "Oh, please, I don't understand," said Trana, "I want to go away."

  "Yes, yes," said Bonaparte, leaning back in his chair, to hergreat relief, and pressing his hands on his heart, "since first thyamethystine countenance was impressed here--what have I not suffered,what have I not felt? Oh, the pangs unspoken, burning as an ardent coalin a fiery and uncontaminated bosom!" said Bonaparte, bending forwardagain.

  "Dear Lord!" said Trana to herself, "how foolish I have been! The oldman has a pain in his stomach, and now, as my aunt is out, he has cometo me to help him."

  She smiled kindly at Bonaparte, and pushing past him, went to thebedroom, quickly returning with a bottle of red drops in her hand.

  "They are very good for benauwdheid; my mother always drinks them," shesaid, holding the bottle out.

  The face in the trap-door was a fiery red. Like a tiger-cat ready tospring. Tant Sannie crouched, with the shoulder of mutton in her hand.Exactly beneath her stood Bonaparte. She rose and clasped with both armsthe barrel of salt meat.

  "What, rose of the desert, nightingale of the colony, that with thineamorous lay whilest the lonesome night!" cried Bonaparte, seizing thehand that held the vonlicsense. "Nay, struggle not! Fly as a strickenfawn into the arms that would embrace thee, thou--"

  Here a stream of cold pickle-water, heavy with ribs and shoulders,descending on his head abruptly terminated his speech. Half-blinded,Bonaparte looked up through the drops that hung from his eyelids, andsaw the red face that looked down at him. With one wild cry he fled.As he passed out at the front door a shoulder of mutton, well-directed,struck the black coat in the small of the back.

  "Bring the ladder! bring the ladder! I will go after him!" cried theBoer-woman, as Bonaparte Blenkins wildly fled into the fields.

  *****

  Late in the evening of the same day Waldo knelt on the floor of hiscabin. He bathed the foot of his dog which had been pierced by a thorn.The bruises on his own back had had five days to heal in, and, excepta little stiffness in his movements, there was nothing remarkable aboutthe boy.

  The troubles of the young are soon over; they leave no external mark.If you wound the tree in its youth the bark will quickly cover thegash; but when the tree is very old, peeling the bark off, and lookingcarefully, you will see the scar there still. All that is buried is notdead.

  Waldo poured the warm milk over the little swollen foot; Doss lay veryquiet, with tears in his eyes. Then there was a tap at the door. In aninstant Doss looked wide awake, and winked the tears out from betweenhis little lids.

  "Come in," said Waldo, intent on his work; and slowly and cautiously thedoor opened.

  "Good evening, Waldo, my boy," said Bonaparte Blenkins in a mild voice,not venturing more than his nose within the door. "How are you thisevening?"

  Doss growled and showed his little teeth, and tried to rise, but his pawhurt him so he whined.

  "I'm very tired, Waldo, my boy," said Bonaparte plaintively.

  Doss showed his little white teeth again. His master went on with hiswork without looking round. There are some people at whose hands it isbest not to look. At last he said:

  "Come in."

  Bonaparte stepped cautiously a little way into the room, and left thedoor open behind him. He looked at the boy's supper on the table.

  "Waldo, I've had nothing to eat all day--I'm very hungry," he said.

  "Eat!" said Waldo after a moment, bending lower over his dog.

  "You won't go and tell her that I am here, will you, Waldo?" saidBonaparte most uneasily. "You've heard how she used me, Waldo? I've beenbadly treated; you'll know yourself what it is some day when you can'tcarry on a little conversation with a lady without having salt meat andpickle-water thrown at you. Waldo, look at me; do I look as a gentlemanshould?"

  But the boy neither looked up nor answered, and Bonaparte grew moreuneasy.

  "You wouldn't go and tell her that I am here, would you?" saidBonaparte, whiningly. "There's no knowing what she would do to me. I'vesuch trust in you, Waldo; I've always thought you such a promising lad,though you mayn't have known it, Waldo."

  "Eat," said the boy, "I shall say nothing."

  Bonaparte, who knew the truth when another spoke it, closed the door,carefully putting on the button. Then he looked to see that the curtainof the window was closely pulled down, and seated himself at the table.He was soon munching the cold meat and bread. Waldo knelt on the floor,bathing the foot with hands which the dog licked lovingly. Once only heglanced at the table, and turned away quickly.

  "Ah, yes! I don't wonder that you can't look at me, Waldo," saidBonaparte; "my condition would touch any heart. You see, the water wasfatty, and that has made all the sand stick to me; and my hair," saidBonaparte, tenderly touching the little fringe at the back of his head,"is all caked over like a little plank; you wouldn't think it was hairat all," said Bonaparte, plaintively. "I had to creep all along thestone walls for fear she'd see me, and with nothing on my head but ared handkerchief, tied under my chin, Waldo; and to hide in a sloot thewhole day, with not a mouthful of food, Waldo
. And she gave me such ablow, just here," said Bonaparte.

  He had cleared the plate of the last morsel, when Waldo rose and walkedto the door.

  "Oh, Waldo, my dear boy, you are not going to call her," said Bonaparte,rising anxiously.

  "I am going to sleep in the wagon," said the boy, opening the door.

  "Oh, we can both sleep in this bed; there's plenty of room. Do stay, myboy, please."

  But Waldo stepped out.

  "It was such a little whip, Waldo," said Bonaparte, following himdeprecatingly. "I didn't think it would hurt you so much. It was such alittle whip. I am sure you didn't take the peaches. You aren't going tocall her, Waldo, are you?"

  But the boy walked off.

  Bonaparte waited till his figure had passed round the front of thewagon-house, and then slipped out. He hid himself round the corner, butkept peeping out to see who was coming. He felt sure the boy was goneto call Tant Sannie. His teeth chattered with inward cold as he lookedround into the darkness and thought of the snakes that might bite him,and the dreadful things that might attack him, and the dead that mightarise out of their graves if he slept out in the field all night. Butmore than an hour passed and no footstep approached.

  Then Bonaparte made his way back to the cabin. He buttoned the doorand put the table against it and, giving the dog a kick to silence hiswhining when the foot throbbed, he climbed into bed. He did not put outthe light, for fear of the ghost, but, worn out with the sorrows of theday, was soon asleep himself.

  About four o'clock Waldo, lying between the seats of the horse-wagon,was awakened by a gentle touch on his head.

  Sitting up, he espied Bonaparte looking through one of the windows witha lighted candle in his hand.

  "I'm about to depart, my dear boy, before my enemies arise, and I couldnot leave without coming to bid you farewell," said Bonaparte.

  Waldo looked at him.

  "I shall always think of you with affection" said Bonaparte. "Andthere's that old hat of yours, if you could let me have it for akeepsake--"

  "Take it," said Waldo.

  "I thought you would say so, so I brought it with me," said Bonaparte,putting it on. "The Lord bless you, my dear boy. You haven't a fewshillings--just a trifle you don't need--have you?"

  "Take the two shillings that are in the broken vase."

  "May the blessing of my God rest upon you, my dear child," saidBonaparte; "may He guide and bless you. Give me your hand."

  Waldo folded his arms closely, and lay down.

  "Farewell, adieu!" said Bonaparte. "May the blessing of my God and myfather's God rest on you, now and evermore."

  With these words the head and nose withdrew themselves, and the lightvanished from the window.

  After a few moments the boy, lying in the wagon, heard stealthyfootsteps as they passed the wagon-house and made their way down theroad. He listened as they grew fainter and fainter, and at last diedaway altogether, and from that night the footstep of Bonaparte Blenkinswas heard no more at the old farm.

  END Of PART I.

  PART II.

  "And it was all play, and no one could tell what it had lived and worked for. A striving, and a striving, and an ending in nothing."