Free The Bridge of San Luis Rey by Thornton Wilder Page B

and up the rivers of Africa. But he is not merely an adventurer and he seems to take no pride in discovering new places; nor is he a mere merchant. One day I asked him narrowly why he lived so, and he avoided my question. I found out from my laundress what I think is the reason of his wandering: My child, he had a child; my daughter, he had a daughter. She was just old enough to cook a holiday meal, and do a little sewing for him. In those days he merely sailed between Mexico and Peru and hundreds of times she waved him farewell or welcome. We have no way of knowing whether she was more beautiful or intelligent than the thousands of other girls that lived about him, but she was his. I suppose it seems ignoble to you that a great oak of a man should go about the world like a blind man about an empty house merely because a chit of a girl has been withdrawn from it. No, no, you cannot understand this, my adored one, but I understand and grow pale. Last night he sat with me and talked of her. He laid his cheek against his hand and looking into the fire, he said: ‘It sometimes seems to me that she is away upon a voyage and that I shall see her again. It seems to me that she is in England.’ You will laugh at me, but I think he goes about the hemispheres to pass the time between now and his old age.”
    The brothers had always entertained a great respect for Captain Alvarado. They had worked for him a short time and the silence of the three of them had made a little kernel of sense in a world of boasting, self-excuse and rhetoric. So now when the great traveler came into the dark kitchen where Esteban was eating the boy drew his chair farther into the shadow, but at a distance, he was glad. The Captain gave no sign of recognizing or even of seeing him until he had finished his meal. Esteban had finished long before, but not wishing to be spoken to, waited until the Captain should have left the cave. At last the Captain walked over to him and said:
    â€œYou are Esteban or Manuel. You helped me once with some unloading. I am Captain Alvarado.”
    â€œYes,” said Esteban.
    â€œHow are you?”
    Esteban muttered something.
    â€œI am looking for some strong fellows to go on my next trip with me.” Pause. “Would you like to come?” Longer pause. “England. And Russia. . . . Hard work. Good wages. . . . A long way from Peru.—Well?”
    Apparently Esteban had not been listening. He sat with his eyes on the table. At last the Captain raised his voice, as to a deaf person:
    â€œI said: Do you want to go on my next trip with me. . . .”
    â€œYes, I’ll go,” answered Esteban suddenly.
    â€œFine. That’s fine. I want your brother, too, of course.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhat’s the matter? Wouldn’t he want to come?”
    Esteban mumbled something, looking away. Then half rising, he said: “I got to go now. I’ve got to see somebody about something.”
    â€œLet me see your brother myself. Where is he?”
    â€œ. . . ’dead.” said Esteban.
    â€œOh, I didn’t know. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
    â€œYes,” said Esteban. “I got to go.”
    â€œHmm.—Which are you? What’s your name?”
    â€œEsteban.”
    â€œWhen did Manuel die?”
    â€œOh, just a . . . just a few weeks. He hit his knee against something and . . . just a few weeks ago.”
    They both kept their eyes on the floor.
    â€œHow old are you, Esteban?”
    â€œTwenty-two.”
    â€œWell, that’s settled then, you’re coming with me?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œYou may not be used to the cold.”
    â€œYes, I’m used to it.—I’ve got to go now. I got to go in the city and see somebody about something.”
    â€œWell, Esteban. Come back here for supper and we’ll talk about the trip. Come back and have some wine with me, see. Will you?”
    â€œYes, I will.”
    â€œGo