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pubOne.info present you this new edition. IT was sheep-shearing time in Southern California, but sheep-shearing was late at the Senora Moreno's. The Fates had seemed to combine to put it off. In the first place, Felipe Moreno had been ill. He was the Senora's eldest son, and since his father's death had been at the head of his mother's house. Without him, nothing could be done on the ranch, the Senora thought. It had been always, "Ask Senor Felipe, " "Go to Senor Felipe, " "Senor Felipe will attend to it, " ever since Felipe had had the dawning of a beard on his handsome face.

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Publié par	Pub One Info
Date de parution	06 novembre 2010
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9782819943402
Langue	English

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RAMONA
By Helen Hunt Jackson
I
IT was sheep-shearing time in Southern California,but sheep-shearing was late at the Senora Moreno's. The Fates hadseemed to combine to put it off. In the first place, Felipe Morenohad been ill. He was the Senora's eldest son, and since hisfather's death had been at the head of his mother's house. Withouthim, nothing could be done on the ranch, the Senora thought. It hadbeen always, “Ask Senor Felipe, ” “Go to Senor Felipe, ” “SenorFelipe will attend to it, ” ever since Felipe had had the dawningof a beard on his handsome face.
In truth, it was not Felipe, but the Senora, whoreally decided all questions from greatest to least, and managedeverything on the place, from the sheep-pastures to theartichoke-patch; but nobody except the Senora herself knew this. Anexceedingly clever woman for her day and generation was SenoraGonzaga Moreno, — as for that matter, exceedingly clever for anyday and generation; but exceptionally clever for the day andgeneration to which she belonged. Her life, the mere surface of it,if it had been written, would have made a romance, to grow hot andcold over: sixty years of the best of old Spain, and the wildest ofNew Spain, Bay of Biscay, Gulf of Mexico, Pacific Ocean, — thewaves of them all had tossed destinies for the Senora. The HolyCatholic Church had had its arms round her from first to last; andthat was what had brought her safe through, she would have said, ifshe had ever said anything about herself, which she never did, —one of her many wisdoms. So quiet, so reserved, so gentle anexterior never was known to veil such an imperious and passionatenature, brimful of storm, always passing through stress; neverthwarted, except at peril of those who did it; adored and hated byturns, and each at the hottest. A tremendous force, wherever sheappeared, was Senora Moreno; but no stranger would suspect it, tosee her gliding about, in her scanty black gown, with her rosaryhanging at her side, her soft dark eyes cast down, and anexpression of mingled melancholy and devotion on her face. Shelooked simply like a sad, spiritual-minded old lady, amiable andindolent, like her race, but sweeter and more thoughtful than theirwont. Her voice heightened this mistaken impression. She was neverheard to speak either loud or fast. There was at times even acurious hesitancy in her speech, which came near being a stammer,or suggested the measured care with which people speak who havebeen cured of stammering. It made her often appear as if she didnot known her own mind; at which people sometimes took heart; when,if they had only known the truth, they would have known that thespeech hesitated solely because the Senora knew her mind so exactlythat she was finding it hard to make the words convey it as shedesired, or in a way to best attain her ends.
About this very sheep-shearing there had been,between her and the head shepherd, Juan Canito, called Juan Can forshort, and to distinguish him from Juan Jose, the upper herdsman ofthe cattle, some discussions which would have been hot and angryones in any other hands than the Senora's.
Juan Canito wanted the shearing to begin, eventhough Senor Felipe were ill in bed, and though that lazy shepherdLuigo had not yet got back with the flock that had been driven upthe coast for pasture. “There were plenty of sheep on the place tobegin with, ” he said one morning, — “at least a thousand; ” and bythe time they were done, Luigo would surely be back with the rest;and as for Senor Felipe's being in bed, had not he, Juan Canito,stood at the packing-bag, and handled the wool, when Senor Felipewas a boy? Why could he not do it again? The Senora did not realizehow time was going; there would be no shearers to be hiredpresently, since the Senora was determined to have none butIndians. Of course, if she would employ Mexicans, as all the otherranches in the valley did, it would be different; but she wasresolved upon having Indians, — “God knows why, ” he interpolatedsurlily, under his breath.
“I do not quite understand you, Juan, ” interruptedSenora Moreno at the precise instant the last syllable of thisdisrespectful ejaculation had escaped Juan's lips; “speak a littlelouder. I fear I am growing deaf in my old age. ”
What gentle, suave, courteous tones! and the calmdark eyes rested on Juan Canito with a look to the fathoming ofwhich he was as unequal as one of his own sheep would have been. Hecould not have told why he instantly and involuntarily said, “Begyour pardon, Senora. ”
“Oh, you need not ask my pardon, Juan, ” the Senorareplied with exquisite gentleness; “it is not you who are to blame,if I am deaf. I have fancied for a year I did not hear quite aswell as I once did. But about the Indians, Juan; did not SenorFelipe tell you that he had positively engaged the same band ofshearers we had last autumn, Alessandro's band from Temecula? Theywill wait until we are ready for them. Senor Felipe will send amessenger for them. He thinks them the best shearers in thecountry. He will be well enough in a week or two, he thinks, andthe poor sheep must bear their loads a few days longer. Are theylooking well, do you think, Juan? Will the crop be a good one?General Moreno used to say that you could reckon up the wool-cropto a pound, while it was on the sheep's backs. ”
“Yes, Senora, ” answered the mollified Juan; “thepoor beasts look wonderfully well considering the scant feed theyhave had all winter. We'll not come many pounds short of our lastyear's crop, if any. Though, to be sure, there is no telling inwhat case that— Luigo will bring his flock back. ”
The Senora smiled, in spite of herself, at the pauseand gulp with which Juan had filled in the hiatus where he hadlonged to set a contemptuous epithet before Luigo's name.
This was another of the instances where the Senora'swill and Juan Canito's had clashed and he did not dream of it,having set it all down as usual to the score of young SenorFelipe.
Encouraged by the Senora's smile, Juan proceeded:“Senor Felipe can see no fault in Luigo, because they were boystogether; but I can tell him, he will rue it, one of thesemornings, when he finds a flock of sheep worse than dead on hishands, and no thanks to anybody but Luigo. While I can have himunder my eye, here in the valley, it is all very well; but he is nomore fit to take responsibility of a flock, than one of the verylambs themselves. He'll drive them off their feet one day, andstarve them the next; and I've known him to forget to give themwater. When he's in his dreams, the Virgin only knows what he won'tdo. ”
During this brief and almost unprecedented outburstof Juan's the Senora's countenance had been slowly growing stern.Juan had not seen it. His eyes had been turned away from her,looking down into the upturned eager face of his favorite collie,who was leaping and gambolling and barking at his feet.
“Down, Capitan, down! ” he said in a fond tone,gently repulsing him; “thou makest such a noise the Senora can hearnothing but thy voice. ”
“I heard only too distinctly, Juan Canito, ” saidthe Senora in a sweet but icy tone. “It is not well for one servantto backbite another. It gives me great grief to hear such words;and I hope when Father Salvierderra comes, next month, you will notforget to confess this sin of which you have been guilty in thusseeking to injure a fellow-being. If Senor Felipe listens to you,the poor boy Luigo will be cast out homeless on the world some day;and what sort of a deed would that be, Juan Canito, for oneChristian to do to another? I fear the Father will give youpenance, when he hears what you have said. ”
“Senora, it is not to harm the lad, ” Juan began,every fibre of his faithful frame thrilling with a sense of theinjustice of her reproach.
But the Senora had turned her back. Evidently shewould hear no more from him then. He stood watching her as shewalked away, at her usual slow pace, her head slightly bentforward, her rosary lifted in her left hand, and the fingers of theright hand mechanically slipping the beads.
“Prayers, always prayers! ” thought Juan to himself,as his eyes followed her. “If they'll take one to heaven, theSenora'll go by the straight road, that's sure! I'm sorry I vexedher. But what's a man to do, if he's the interest of the place atheart, I'd like to know. Is he to stand by, and see a lot of idlemooning louts run away with everything? Ah, but it was an ill dayfor the estate when the General died, — an ill day! an ill day! Andthey may scold me as much as they please, and set me to confessingmy sins to the Father; it's very well for them, they've got me tolook after matters. Senor Felipe will do well enough when he's aman, maybe; but a boy like him! Bah! ” And the old man stamped hisfoot with a not wholly unreasonable irritation, at the falseposition in which he felt himself put.
“Confess to Father Salvierderra, indeed! ” hemuttered aloud. “Ay, that will I. He's a man of sense, if he is apriest, ”— at which slip of the tongue the pious Juan hastilycrossed himself, — “and I'll ask him to give me some good advice asto how I'm to manage between this young boy at the head ofeverything, and a doting mother who thinks he has the wisdom of adozen grown men. The Father knew the place in the olden time. Heknows it's no child's play to look after the estate even now, muchsmaller as it is! An ill day when the old General died, an ill dayindeed, the saints rest his soul! ” Saying this, Juan shrugged hisshoulders, and whistling to Capitan, walked towards the sunnyveranda of the south side of the kitchen wing of the house, whereit had been for twenty odd years his habit to sit on the long benchand smoke his pipe of a morning. Before he had got half-way acrossthe court-yard, however, a thought struck him. He halted sosuddenly that Capitan, with the quick sensitiveness of his breed,thought so sudden a change of purpose could only come fromsomething in connection with sheep; and, true t