The Divine Husband by Francisco Goldman

Author:Francisco Goldman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grove Atlantic
Published: 2004-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 5

It is also true that when you went to Europe you had a pregnant donkey brought on board your steamship so that if your midwife’s breasts ran dry, you could feed your baby donkey milk? And that was because your husband didn’t want you nursing from your own breasts like an Indian?”

Paquita had apologized to María de las Nieves for their argument of the previous evening. They had embraced, and kissed each other’s cheeks.

“But how did you know about that?”

“Paquita, it was the kind of story anyone could hear in the market. My servant told me.” It was one of the more sympathetic stories that circulated there about La Primera Dama.

“Yes, it’s true,” said Paquita cheerfully. “And one night during that voyage, Rufino came back into our stateroom carrying a glass of milk he’d just gotten from that donkey. It wasn’t for my baby, though; he said he wanted to drink it himself. He wanted to show off, you know, that even though we were sailing to Paris, he was still the rough rural man. I said, That’s milk from the kitchen. Give me a taste, Rufinito, so that I can see if you are telling the truth. María de las Nieves and I used to drink donkey milk when we were chiquillas on my father’s farm, so I know the taste. But no, he would not share it, he said he was not going to make love to a woman with donkey milk on her breath, and he drank it all down.”

Paquita had a sarcastic glitter in her eye that suddenly warmed María de las Nieves, and made her laugh.

“So tell me, Paquita mía. Tell me, at last, what is it that your spy—it was a spy, wasn’t it?—saw take place that day, between Martí and me. Vamos, it was all a long time ago, querida, after all.”

“No no no. If I tell you, you’re just going to storm out again. I’ve been thinking about what you said to me the other night, mis Nievecitas, and I’ve decided that all your accusations were true—yes, all of them. You believe that I was corrupted by my husband’s power, that I relied on his spies, and I cannot deny that. So yes, you’ve hurt me, but you’ve also made me see what even my own mother and every priest I’ve ever known have wanted to hide from me. Claro, I did have an excuse. After all, there was a conspiracy, María de las Nieves, to murder not only my husband but also myself and our children as we slept in our beds. After that conspiracy was exposed, I changed; I suspected, feared, and hated everybody and felt I had the right to tear the roof off every single house and look inside and tell anybody what I saw. So much power was, I agree, as you say, deranging. The world lost all harmony for me. And the only way I could restore it a little-little was by leaving the country, and spending more and more time in New York and Europe.

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