The Lone Woman by Bernardo Atxaga

Author:Bernardo Atxaga
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781448162765
Publisher: Random House

Second Dream

AS SOON AS she fell asleep, a feeling of strangeness came over her. She saw herself beneath a completely blue sky and in an unknown place that was nothing like the bus. And it wasn’t only what she saw that was strange, there were strange noises and smells too: the birdsong, the tinkling cowbells, the fragrance of rosemary and thyme.

“What is this place?” she thought, and the effort of trying to find an answer almost woke her up. But what she could see, smell and hear was so pleasant that she decided, right at the last moment, just as she was about to open her eyes, to go on and to immerse herself in that new reality.

She examined what there was beneath that blue sky. She saw sheep, lambs and a hut.

“Of course, that’s why I could hear bells,” she thought. Then she reached out her hand towards one of the lambs nearby and gathered it into her lap. It had a black head and its tail was light brown, but the rest of its body was completely white. It smelled really good.

Suddenly she noticed Margarita. She was sitting at the door of the hut and had a book in her hands. Next to her, lying on the grass, was a huge dog, a greyhound.

“I’m going to read you a poem, Irene. I think it fits your new situation perfectly. You look just like a shepherdess,” Margarita said, opening the book.

How could that be? Had Margarita left prison too? In that case, where were they? In Argentina? On the Pampas? She raised her head and looked around. All about her was a vast meadow. Yes, they could well be in the middle of the Pampas.

She had to interrupt her thoughts. Margarita was beginning to read.

Little Lamb, who made thee?

Dost thou know who made thee?

Gave thee life, and bid thee feed

By the stream and o’er the mead;

Gave thee clothing of delight,

Softest clothing, woolly, bright;

Gave thee such a tender voice,

Making all the vales rejoice?

Little Lamb, who made thee?

Dost thou know who made thee?

She started stroking the lamb. She felt a great feeling of calm, or something beyond calm; quietness, stillness, trust, serenity. Occasionally, a gust of wind brushed her hair, but it did not feel in the least cold. Was that what the Pampas were like? A kind of Arcadia? Perhaps it was. There was the flock, there was the blue sky, there too, although she had not heard it until then, was the sweet sound of the flute. Where was the shepherd flautist? She looked everywhere for him; she scanned the banks of a lake near the hut, she peered into the shadows of the willows bent over the water, but she could see no one.

The sheep had begun to move towards the lake, closely followed by their lambs. The sun was high and the water glittered.

“Do you want to go too?” she asked the lamb in her lap. The animal did not move.

“You were quite right to come here,” said Margarita, standing in the door of the hut.

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