The Mortal Gods and Other Plays Part 16

_Mas._ I've teeth can break 'em. Fish, Famette!

[_Famette puts fish into his cup_]

There'll be a blessed cleaning-up to-night.

_Lis._ More beating? Has the master come?

_Mas._ [_Nods_] And on The rounds. He'll clear the yards. News from the north Has turned him red and black.

_Fam._ A flogging? Oh, If you were men you'd fight with your bare hands Till you were free!

_Mas._ Free as the dead. Our blood Would soak the earth and make more hennequin,-- That's all.

_Fam._ Then run away.

_Mas._ How far? The swamps?

To sleep with snakes--a week or less?

_Fam._ Across The ridges.

_Mas._ Where the sun would lap you dry As crackling cat-guts? Thirst would draw you in To th' next hacienda well. The masters own The water, and in this land, that's life.

_Fam._ No chance?

They never get away?

_Mas._ Sometimes a man Makes Quito, but he soon comes back.

_Fam._ Comes back?

_Mas._ What else? In Quito there's no work. He starves.

And here--there's beans. So he gives up, and then They send him back.

_Fam._ And he is flogged?

_Mas._ Ay, till His bones crack.

_Fam._ Oh! He bears it?

_Mas._ Like a man, My dear.

_Fam._ The coward!

_Mas._ So--back to the field, Mute as a snail, and poorer too, for then The dream is gone of any life but this.

_Fam._ They have no spirit--none!

_Mas._ Much as you'll have This time next year.

_Fam._ Next year? I shall be gone.

My debt was just ten pesos.

_Mas._ [_Incredulous_] You were sold For that?

_Fam._ I'll work it out.

_Mas._ Be 't ten or hundreds, Who comes here stays. You'll soon know that, my bird, And limber your fine neck.

[_As they talk, men and women enter in groups of scores and dozens until there are several hundred in the yard. They are mostly of mixed blood, their color ranging from the full brown of the Maya to the pale olive of the Peonian aristocrat. At a spout, upper left, they wash their hands, then drop about wearily. One man sits near Famette, his head sunk on his chest. She lays her hand on his shoulder_]

_Fam._ What, Garza, you?

Who were so blithe this morning, on your way To freedom?

_Garza._ [_Rocking_] Mother of G.o.d! Oh, Mother of G.o.d!

_Fam._ What is it, Garza?

_Mas._ There you have it! You see Who comes here stays.

_Fam._ But he was free! His friend Brought twenty pesos to pay off his debt.

_Gonzalo._ And when he went to pay it, on the books There stood two hundred pesos against Garza.

_Mas._ Two hundred--twenty,--you see, Famette, How much a little "o" can do.

_Fam._ They dare Do that? I'll see the magistrate! [_The men stare at her_]

_Mas._ [_Patting her shoulder_] Poor girl!

_Fam._ I will! Why not? What is he for?

_Gon._ What for?

To see we are well beaten when we ask For justice. He must serve who pays him,--that's The master.

_Fam._ Oh, you worse than slaves!

_Mas._ No names, My proudling. Wait a year, then what you please.

[_The men have been eating. Ysobel stands in door of hut holding a great bowl of beans from which the peons fill their cups. Lissa gives out the fish. Her boy, Iduso, crouches by her skirts_]

_Lis._ [_To boy_] Not eat? Now you're a man? Twelve years to-day!

_Fam._ [_Bending over Iduso_] Is 't fever, Lissa?

_Lis._ [_With sullen jealousy_] Let him be, Famette.

What do you know? You've got no children.

_Fam._ I've A little brother.

_Lis._ Brother! Nothing that.