The Devotion of Enriquez Page #7

"The Devotion of Enriquez" is a short story by Bret Harte, set in the rugged landscapes of California's Gold Rush era. The narrative centers on the character Enriquez, a loyal and devoted Mexican servant who navigates themes of love, sacrifice, and cultural tensions. Through his unwavering dedication to a wealthy American family, the story explores the complexities of loyalty across social and racial divides, ultimately revealing profound insights into human relationships and the moral dilemmas faced by individuals in a rapidly changing society. Harte's vivid storytelling and rich characterizations offer a poignant reflection on honor and devotion in an era marked by both opportunity and conflict.

• Short story

								


He instantly bounded up in the hammock. "The bull! Caramba! Not a
thousand bulls! And thees one, look you, was a craven. I snap my fingers
over his horn; I roll my cigarette under his nose."

"Well, then--what was it?"

He instantly lay down again, pulling up the sides of the hammock.
Presently his voice came from its depths, appealing in hollow tones to
the sky. "He asks me--thees friend of my soul, thees brother of my life,
thees Pancho that I lofe--what it was? He would that I should tell him
why I am game in the legs, why I shake in the hand, crack in the voice,
and am generally wipe out! And yet he, my pardner--thees Francisco--know
that I have seen the mees from Boston! That I have gaze into the eye,
touch the hand, and for the instant possess the picture that hand have
drawn! It was a sublime picture, Pancho," he said, sitting up again
suddenly, "and have kill the bull before our friend Pepe's sword have
touch even the bone of hees back and make feenish of him."

"Look here, Enriquez," I said bluntly, "have you been serenading that
girl?"

He shrugged his shoulders without the least embarrassment, and said:
"Ah, yes. What would you? It is of a necessity."

"Well," I retorted, "then you ought to know that her uncle took it all to
himself--thought you some grateful Catholic pleased with his religious
tolerance."

He did not even smile. "BUENO," he said gravely. "That make something,
too. In thees affair it is well to begin with the duenna. He is the
duenna."

"And," I went on relentlessly, "her escort told her just now that your
exploit in the bull ring was only a trick to divert the bull, suggested
by the management."

"Bah! her escort is a geologian. Naturally, she is to him as a stone."

I would have continued, but a peon interrupted us at this moment with a
sign to Enriquez, who leaped briskly from the hammock, bidding me wait
his return from a messenger in the gateway.

Still unsatisfied of mind, I waited, and sat down in the hammock that
Enriquez had quitted. A scrap of paper was lying in its meshes, which
at first appeared to be of the kind from which Enriquez rolled his
cigarettes; but as I picked it up to throw it away, I found it was of
much firmer and stouter material. Looking at it more closely, I was
surprised to recognize it as a piece of the tinted drawing-paper torn
off the "block" that Miss Mannersley had used. It had been deeply
creased at right angles as if it had been folded; it looked as if it
might have been the outer half of a sheet used for a note.

It might have been a trifling circumstance, but it greatly excited my
curiosity. I knew that he had returned the sketch to Miss Mannersley,
for I had seen it in her hand. Had she given him another? And if so, why
had it been folded to the destruction of the drawing? Or was it part
of a note which he had destroyed? In the first impulse of discovery
I walked quickly with it toward the gateway where Enriquez had
disappeared, intending to restore it to him. He was just outside talking
with a young girl. I started, for it was Jocasta--Miss Mannersley's
maid.

With this added discovery came that sense of uneasiness and indignation
with which we illogically are apt to resent the withholding of a
friend's confidence, even in matters concerning only himself. It was no
use for me to reason that it was no business of mine, that he was right
in keeping a secret that concerned another--and a lady; but I was afraid
I was even more meanly resentful because the discovery quite upset my
theory of his conduct and of Miss Mannersley's attitude toward him. I
continued to walk on to the gateway, where I bade Enriquez a hurried
good-by, alleging the sudden remembrance of another engagement, but
without appearing to recognize the girl, who was moving away when, to
my further discomfiture, the rascal stopped me with an appealing wink,
threw his arms around my neck, whispered hoarsely in my ear, "Ah! you
see--you comprehend--but you are the mirror of discretion!" and returned
to Jocasta. But whether this meant that he had received a message from
Miss Mannersley, or that he was trying to suborn her maid to carry one,
was still uncertain. He was capable of either. During the next two
or three weeks I saw him frequently; but as I had resolved to try the
effect of ignoring Miss Mannersley in our conversation, I gathered
little further of their relations, and, to my surprise, after one or two
characteristic extravagances of allusion, Enriquez dropped the subject,
too. Only one afternoon, as we were parting, he said carelessly: "My
friend, you are going to the casa of Mannersley tonight. I too have the
honor of the invitation. But you will be my Mercury--my Leporello--you
will take of me a message to thees Mees Boston, that I am crushed,
desolated, prostrate, and flabbergasted--that I cannot arrive, for I
have of that night to sit up with the grand-aunt of my brother-in-law,
who has a quinsy to the death. It is sad."

This was the first indication I had received of Miss Mannersley's
advances. I was equally surprised at Enriquez' refusal.

"Nonsense!" I said bluntly. "Nothing keeps you from going."

"My friend," returned Enriquez, with a sudden lapse into languishment
that seemed to make him absolutely infirm, "it is everything that
shall restrain me. I am not strong. I shall become weak of the knee and
tremble under the eye of Mees Boston. I shall precipitate myself to the
geologian by the throat. Ask me another conundrum that shall be easy."

He seemed idiotically inflexible, and did not go. But I did. I found
Miss Mannersley exquisitely dressed and looking singularly animated and
pretty. The lambent glow of her inscrutable eye as she turned toward me
might have been flattering but for my uneasiness in regard to Enriquez.
I delivered his excuses as naturally as I could. She stiffened for an
instant, and seemed an inch higher. "I am so sorry," she said at last in
a level voice. "I thought he would have been so amusing. Indeed, I had
hoped we might try an old Moorish dance together which I have found and
was practicing."

"He would have been delighted, I know. It's a great pity he didn't come
with me," I said quickly; "but," I could not help adding, with emphasis
on her words, "he is such an 'extraordinary creature,' you know."

"I see nothing extraordinary in his devotion to an aged relative,"
returned Miss Mannersley quietly as she turned away, "except that it
justifies my respect for his character."

I do not know why I did not relate this to him. Possibly I had given up
trying to understand them; perhaps I was beginning to have an idea that
he could take care of himself. But I was somewhat surprised a few days
later when, after asking me to go with him to a rodeo at his uncle's he
								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes