Read 27 Wagons Full of Cotton and Other Plays for Free Online Page B

water.
    A very good comparison, I think.
    I once led goats through the mountains:
    we stopped to drink.
    It seemed the purest of fountains.
    Five of the goat herd died.
    I only survived because I had promised the master that I would return in time for the Feast of the Virgin . . .
    The water was crystal—but it was fouled at the source.
    The water was—tainted water!
    ( The girl of the vision lowers her head and covers her face and her garland with the shawl. The guitar plays — sad and sinister. She turns and withdraws from the doorway. )
    S ON: ( springing furiously at the servant ) Madre de Dios!
    J UDGE: Restrain him!
    ( The Father holds him back, dramatic chords on the guitar. )

    S ON: This whore should be made to taste of the bastinado!
    M OTHER:
    Patience, my son.
    The zopilote will croak—we cannot prevent it!
    J UDGE: You people from Casa Blanca will serve us best in advancing your own satisfaction by holding the peace until this witness has finished.
    ( to Luisa )
    Go on, Señora. But please to avoid uncalled-for offense to these people.
    L UISA:
    The youth’s demented. That’s true.
    He used to ride on his pony past our place.
    He cried out loud to some invisible creatures as even a moment ago you saw his rapturous gaze at an empty doorway.
    The moon, I suspect, has touched his head too fondly.
    C HORUS:
    The moon, we suspect, has touched his head too fondly.
    ( They nod and mumble. )
    L UISA:
    You know how it is in August?
    In August the heavens take on more brilliance, more fire.
    They become—unstable.
    And then I believe it is well to stay indoors, to keep yourself at a sensible occupation.
    This one lacked prudence, however.
    He rode at night, bare-back, through the Sangre de Cristo, shouting aloud and making ridiculous gestures.
    ( The guitar plays — lyrical chords. )
    You know how it is in August?

    C HORUS: Yes, in August!
    L UISA:
    The stars make—sudden excursions.
    The moon’s—lopsided.
    The dogs go howling like demons about the ranches.
    C HORUS: Howling like demons!
    L UISA:
    I’m wise—I stay indoors.
    But this one here, this youth from Casa Blanca, continually raced and raced through the mountain larches—until exhaustion stopped him.
    When he stopped—it was not always in his own enclosures.
    ( The Chorus gossip and nod. The Judge warns them. )
    No—
    He pastured his pony some nights at Casa Rojo.
    His visits were unannounced except by the pony’s neighing in the distance, borne down windward.
    On one such occasion as this I climbed upstairs to notify the mistress.
    This was unnecessary: her bed was empty:
    the covers—thrown aside.
    ( Guitar. The Chorus whisper. The Judge silences them. )
    I did not trouble the master, he was sleeping, but went alone through the meadow: the grasses were chill: I shivered:
    I bore no lantern—the starlight proved sufficient.
    I had not come to the barn when suddenly through the window of the loft, that was lit with the wavering radiance of a candle—two naked figures appeared in a kind of—dance . . .
    ( Loud dramatic chords on the guitar. Castanets and drums.

    Shocked murmur among the women. The Chorus rise and talk among themselves. )
    R ANCHER: Basta! Basta, Luisa!
    ( He clenches his hands in torment. )
    L UISA: Someone has got to speak!
    M OTHER: ( rising )
    So at last it is out—this infamous slander whispered against our house!
    ( Silence. )
    F ATHER: ( choked )What man of this woman’s people will answer for it?
    L UISA:
    I am alone.
    I’ll answer for it myself.
    T HE J UDGE:
    Resume your seats, mis vecinos.
    It is foolish to feign surprise at the charge now spoken.
    A thing so persistently whispered in our kitchens is better spoken out in the presence of all.
    So now it is necessary to face it squarely.
    ( The guitar plays — tragic, tormented. The Son looks down without moving. )
    L UISA: ( smiling )Why doesn’t he stand?
    F ATHER: Rosalio, stand!—And speak!
    M OTHER: ( rising )No!—Wait!
    ( She speaks softly, tenderly, and