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.And seeing him walk alone with hiscrimes on a path flowing with blood, carrying hatred on his back andvengeance in his head, far from envying her mother s eternal rest,Clemencia wanted to live so that she might accompany her wretchedfather on that road of wickedness like a guardian angel; and if it wasnot possible for her to take him away from it, at least to offer God alife of suffering and atonement on his behalf.Clemencia rejected with dread the luxury that surrounded her, forshe saw in it the rewards of crime.Forgetting that she was young, for-getting that she was beautiful and that the world is filled with heav-enly pleasures for youth and beauty, she hid her svelte figure and herdelightful shape under a long, white gown, covered the silky curls ofher magnificent hair with a thick veil, quieted her beating heart sdesire for love, and devoted herself entirely to the relief of the unfor-tunate.Overcoming the deep horror in her soul, she looked at thebloodstained lists where her father recorded the names of his victims,and, guided by these gloomy facts, she rushed off to adopt theorphans and the widows that his dagger had left in the world unpro-tected.To save them, she used the talents she had acquired under hermother s meticulous education: She gave music and drawing lessons,and devoted all of her hours to her work.The poor girl filled hermind with doleful thoughts, and although her heart was always heavywith sorrow, she played joyful polkas to which her students dancedhappily and merrily.In the frightful solitude of her nights, she who 88 | Dreams and Realitieshad said her adieus forever to all the joys of life, occupied herself withembroidering sheer bouquets in the veil of a newlywed or in thetransparent and coquettish folds of a dance dress, without being dis-heartened by the painful thoughts awakened in her soul by thoseaccessories of happiness of which she could no longer dream.Oncethese tasks were completed, the cost of which was filled with so manysad emotions for her, she would rush over to spread comfort andpeace in the home of someone who had been sacrificed by her father sax.She caressed and helped educate the children like an affectionatemother, she watched over sick ones with the fervent solicitude of asister of charity, and she assisted the dying with passion and mercy.Completely forgetting herself, Clemencia seemed to live only forthe life of others.And yet the world smiled at her from afar, openedits arms to her, and showed her its delights.Quite frequently, in hercharitable outings, Clemencia would hear enraptured voices behindher that exclaimed: Look at how beautiful she is! Blessed, a thousand times blessed,is he who is worthy of a look from those eyes! But those gallant words of love in the middle of the funerealsilence of the desolate city offended Clemencia s ears, as if they wereprofane songs among the graves of a cemetery; hiding her facebehind the folds of her veil, she would hurry off, her heart heavy withsadness and disgust.iiOne evening, Clemencia saw a group of men enter her house andhead to her father s room; they had a sinister, hair-raising appearance,and were wrapped in long ponchos, in the folds of which could beseen the bright blades of their daggers.Clemencia foresaw somethingevil in the presence of those men, and after hesitating a brief instant,she hurried to put her ear against the keyhole of a door that led intoher father s room.Roque, standing near a table, held some papers in his hand; he wasspeaking in a loud voice to his audience. The Mazorquero s Daughter | 89 Yes, my friends, he said, this is a war to the death against thoseUnitarians! A war to the death against those villains! You think thatyou have accomplished a great deal? Well, you are only fooling your-selves.All you have to do is read the list of our executions for thismonth and compare it with all the denunciations that we havereceived even just today.Read and you will see that there is still muchwork left for the blade of the Mazorca to do; when you compare thenumber of those who have fallen with the number of those who willfall.yes, who will fall, even if they hide under the mantle of the Vir-gin Mary herself! Queen of Heaven! Clemencia murmured, putting her handstogether in pain and turning toward the image of the Virgin, her onlycompanion in that solitary abode. If that blasphemy reached eventhe feet of your divine throne, do not listen to it, heavenly Mother!Ignore it with indulgence and shine a smile of compassion on thatwretched soul who walks in darkness. After uttering these words, Clemencia turned back to hear herfather, who was reading out loud: Tonight, at nine o clock, a masked man will stop at the foot ofthe obelisk in the Plaza de la Victoria, and will whistle three times.That man is Manuel de Puirredon,2 the incorrigible Unitarian con-spirator, Lavalle s friend, who has emigrated to Montevideo.3 Thesignal is for the daughter of a Federal who has joined with him insecrecy and, turned into his most powerful aide, passes on to him herfather s secrets.Informed by that signal of the return of the conspira-tor, she will surely go to meet him in order to help him with whateverbase plan he is bringing for her in Buenos Aires.2Manuel de Pueyrredón (modern spelling) (1802 1865) joined the army of independenceagainst Spain and later took sides with Lavalle in his struggle against Rosas s supporter,Dorrego.He was imprisoned by Rosas in 1835, and, upon his release, emigrated first toMontevideo and then to Brazil. Ed.3Juan Lavalle (1797 1841) joined the regiments of San Martín and later unleashed the civilwars that divided Argentina by his assassination of Dorrego in 1828.Rosas sought revengeagainst him, opening a series of battles that were to last until Lavalle s murder in 1841. Ed. 90 | Dreams and Realities Do you hear that, comrades? And our daggers still in our belts? Roque exclaimed with ferocious anger. Death to Manuel de Puirredon! the murderers yelled, drawingtheir long daggers.Clemencia looked through the keyhole to the clock in front of herfather and trembled.The hands marked 8:55. Five minutes to save a man s life! Five minutes to prevent myfather s committing another crime! Oh! God, stretch out this shortamount of time and lend my feet wings. And wrapping herself in her long, white veil, she ran out of herhouse and down the street toward the plaza, not without turning herhead around many times in fear that the murderers would catch upand pass her, foiling her desire to save the unfortunate one who,without knowing it, was that very moment walking to his death.When she reached the corner of Calle de la Victoria and Calle delColegio, Clemencia spotted a black shape crossing the plaza diago-nally toward the obelisk. There he is! she murmured in a quivering voice and ran to meethim, catching him right when he reached the iron fence.There were many people strolling around that night in the eveningbreeze, and they impeded Clemencia from speaking with the strangerdirectly.So she turned sideways and walked passed him, touching himlightly on the back and making an imperceptible sign for him to fol-low her
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