Part 33 (2/2)

But it was even now with an ecstasy only half joy, the other half anguish, that Alessandro replied: ”Majella cannot lie. Majella is like the saints. Alessandro is hers.”

When they rode down into the valley, the whole village was astir. The vintage-time had nearly pa.s.sed; everywhere were to be seen large, flat baskets of grapes drying in the sun. Old women and children were turning these, or pounding acorns in the deep stone bowls; others were beating the yucca-stalks, and putting them to soak in water; the oldest women were sitting on the ground, weaving baskets. There were not many men in the village now; two large bands were away at work,--one at the autumn sheep-shearing, and one working on a large irrigating ditch at San Bernardino.

In different directions from the village slow-moving herds of goats or of cattle could be seen, being driven to pasture on the hills; some men were ploughing; several groups were at work building houses of bundles of the tule reeds.

”These are some of the Temecula people,” said Alessandro; ”they are building themselves new houses here. See those piles of bundles darker-colored than the rest. Those are their old roofs they brought from Temecula. There, there comes Ysidro!” he cried joyfully, as a man, well-mounted, who had been riding from point to point in the village, came galloping towards them. As soon as Ysidro recognized Alessandro, he flung himself from his horse. Alessandro did the same, and both running swiftly towards each other till they met, they embraced silently.

Ramona, riding up, held out her hand, saying, as she did so, ”Ysidro?”

Pleased, yet surprised, at this confident and a.s.sured greeting, Ysidro saluted her, and turning to Alessandro, said in their own tongue, ”Who is this woman whom you bring, that has heard my name?”

”My wife!” answered Alessandro, in the same tongue. ”We were married last night by Father Gaspara. She comes from the house of the Senora Moreno. We will live in San Pasquale, if you have land for me, as you have said.”

What astonishment Ysidro felt, he showed none. Only a grave and courteous welcome was in his face and in his words as he said, ”It is well. There is room. You are welcome.” But when he heard the soft Spanish syllables in which Ramona spoke to Alessandro, and Alessandro, translating her words to him, said, ”Majel speaks only in the Spanish tongue, but she will learn ours,” a look of disquiet pa.s.sed over his countenance. His heart feared for Alessandro, and he said, ”Is she, then, not Indian? Whence got she the name of Majel?”

A look of swift intelligence from Alessandro rea.s.sured him. ”Indian on the mother's side!” said Alessandro, ”and she belongs in heart to our people. She is alone, save for me. She is one blessed of the Virgin, Ysidro. She will help us. The name Majel I have given her, for she is like the wood-dove; and she is glad to lay her old name down forever, to bear this new name in our tongue.”

And this was Ramona's introduction to the Indian village,--this and her smile; perhaps the smile did most. Even the little children were not afraid of her. The women, though shy, in the beginning, at sight of her n.o.ble bearing, and her clothes of a kind and quality they a.s.sociated only with superiors, soon felt her friendliness, and, what was more, saw by her every word, tone, look, that she was Alessandro's. If Alessandro's, theirs. She was one of them. Ramona would have been profoundly impressed and touched, could she have heard them speaking among themselves about her; wondering how it had come about that she, so beautiful, and nurtured in the Moreno house, of which they all knew, should be Alessandro's loving wife. It must be, they thought in their simplicity, that the saints had sent it as an omen of good to the Indian people. Toward night they came, bringing in a hand-barrow the most aged woman in the village to look at her. She wished to see the beautiful stranger before the sun went down, they said, because she was now so old she believed each night that before morning her time would come to die.

They also wished to hear the old woman's verdict on her. When Alessandro saw them coming, he understood, and made haste to explain it to Ramona.

While he was yet speaking, the procession arrived, and the aged woman in her strange litter was placed silently on the ground in front of Ramona, who was sitting under Ysidro's great fig-tree. Those who had borne her withdrew, and seated themselves a few paces off. Alessandro spoke first. In a few words he told the old woman of Ramona's birth, of their marriage, and of her new name of adoption; then he said, ”Take her hand, dear Majella, if you feel no fear.”

There was something scarcely human in the shrivelled arm and hand outstretched in greeting; but Ramona took it in hers with tender reverence: ”Say to her for me, Alessandro,” she said, ”that I bow down to her great age with reverence, and that I hope, if it is the will of G.o.d that I live on the earth so long as she has, I may be worthy of such reverence as these people all feel for her.”

Alessandro turned a grateful look on Ramona as he translated this speech, so in unison with Indian modes of thought and feeling. A murmur of pleasure rose from the group of women sitting by. The aged woman made no reply; her eyes still studied Ramona's face, and she still held her hand.

”Tell her,” continued Ramona, ”that I ask if there is anything I can do for her. Say I will be her daughter if she will let me.”

”It must be the Virgin herself that is teaching Majella what to say,”

thought Alessandro, as he repeated this in the San Luiseno tongue.

Again the women murmured pleasure, but the old woman spoke not. ”And say that you will be her son,” added Ramona.

Alessandro said it. It was perhaps for this that the old woman had waited. Lifting up her arm, like a sibyl, she said: ”It is well; I am your mother. The winds of the valley shall love you, and the gra.s.s shall dance when you come. The daughter looks on her mother's face each day. I will go;” and making a sign to her bearers, she was lifted, and carried to her house.

The scene affected Ramona deeply. The simplest acts of these people seemed to her marvellously profound in their meanings. She was not herself sufficiently educated or versed in life to know why she was so moved,--to know that such utterances, such symbolisms as these, among primitive peoples, are thus impressive because they are truly and grandly dramatic; but she was none the less stirred by them, because she could not a.n.a.lyze or explain them.

”I will go and see her every day,” she said; ”she shall be like my mother, whom I never saw.”

”We must both go each day,” said Alessandro. ”What we have said is a solemn promise among my people; it would not be possible to break it.”

Ysidro's home was in the centre of the village, on a slightly rising ground; it was a picturesque group of four small houses, three of tule reeds and one of adobe,--the latter a comfortable little house of two rooms, with a floor and a s.h.i.+ngled roof, both luxuries in San Pasquale.

The great fig-tree, whose luxuriance and size were noted far and near throughout the country, stood half-way down the slope; but its boughs shaded all three of the tule houses. On one of its lower branches was fastened a dove-cote, ingeniously made of willow wands, plastered with adobe, and containing so many rooms that the whole tree seemed sometimes a-flutter with doves and dovelings. Here and there, between the houses, were huge baskets, larger than barrels, woven of twigs, as the eagle weaves its nest, only tighter and thicker. These were the outdoor granaries; in these were kept acorns, barley, wheat, and corn. Ramona thought them, as well she might, the prettiest things she ever saw.

”Are they hard to make?” she asked. ”Can you make them, Alessandro? I shall want many.”

”All you want, my Majella,” replied Alessandro. ”We will go together to get the twigs; I can, I dare say, buy some in the village. It is only two days to make a large one.”

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