TheAtonement

Silvina Ocampo, Argentinianwriter bom in Buenos Aires. Author of. The Forgotten
Journey (1937); Inventory of the Motherland (1942); Metric Spaces(1945); Garden
Sonnets(19a8); The Autobiographyof Irene (1948);The Poemsof Love in Despair
(1949);The Names(1953);The Fury (1960);The Guests(1961);The Bitter for the
Sweet(1962).

ntonio summonedRuperto and I to the room at the back of the house.

Imperiously,he told us to sit down. The bed wasmade.He went out to the
patio and opened the door of the birdcage, then came back and lay down on the
bed.
'I'm going to show you a trick', he
said.
'Are you going to be hired by the
circus?'I asked.
He whistled two or three times and Favorita, Maria Callasand Mandarin,
who was red, all flew into the room. Staring at the ceiling, he again gavea
whistle, more high pitched and tremulous this time. \Ufasthis the trick? t0flhy
had he summonedus, Ruperto and I? $fhy had he not waited for Cleobulato
arrive? I thought that the whole purposeof this show was to demonstratethat
Ruperto was not blind, but mad, and that he would prove it in a moment of
emotion,in the faceof Antonio'sdistress.The canariesflying aroundmademe
feel tired. My memoriesflew around my mind with the sameinsistence.They
say that at the moment of death one reviewsone'swhole life-I relived mine
that afternoonwith a remote feeling of sadness.
I could see'asclearly asif the imagewerepainted on the wall, my wedding to
Antonio at five in the afternoon,in the month of December.
It wasalreadyhot and whenwe arrivedat our house,to my surprise,from the
window in the bedroom where I took off my wedding dressand veil, I saw a
canary.
Now I realize that it was, in fact, Mandarin pecking at the only remaining
orangeon the tree in the patio.
Antonio didn't stopkissingme whenhe sawme soengrossed in the spectacle.
The bird's mercilesspeckingof the orangefascinatedme. I contemplatedthe
sceneuntil Antonio draggedme trembling to the bed, which, surroundedwith
weddingpresents,had beena sourceof pleasureto him and of terror to me on
the eveof our wedding.The dark-redvelvetbedspreadhad a stagecoach journey
embroideredon it. I shut my eyesand hardly knew what happenedafterwards.
Love is also a iourneyl for many days after that, I learnt its lessons,without
seeingor understandingthe pleasureand the pain that it causes.At the
beginning' I think that Antonio and I loved each other equally, with no
difficulty other than that which my conscience and his timidity created.
The tiny housewith its equallytiny gardenis situatedat the enrranceto the
193
194 THE BOOK OF FANTASY

village. The fresh mountain air surrounds us and we can see the nearby
countrysidewhen we open the windows.
$(Ie alreadyhad a radio and a fridge. Numerous friends would come to our
houseon dayswhen therewasa holiday or to celebratesomeeventin the family.
$flhat more could we ask for? Cleobulaand Ruperto would visit us more often
becausethey had been friends of ours since childhood. Antonio had fallen in
love with me, they had known this. He hadn't lookedfor me, he hadn't chose
me, ratherI had chosenhim. His only ambitionwasto be lovedby his wife and
that sheshouldremain faithful to him. He attachedlittle importanceto money.
Ruperto would sit in a corner of the patio and, while he was tuning his
guitar, would ask, without any preamble,for a matetea, or an orangejuice if it
washot. I thought of him asone of the many friendsor relativeswho werelike
part of the furniture in the house,that oneonly noticeswhen they are broken or
put in a different place.
'Thesecanariessing well', Cleobulawould invariably remark, but, had she
beenableto kill them with a broom, shewould havedoneso becauseshehated
them. \fhat would she have said if she had seen them perform so many
ridiculous tricks without Antonio having to give them a single little lettuce leaf
or a single sweet!
Automatically,I would handthe mateor the glassof orangejuice to Ruperto,
sitting in the shadeof the vine where he alwayssat, in a Vienna chair, like a dog
in its corner.I didn't think of him asa womanthinks of a man, therewasnot the
slightest hint of flirtatiousnessin the way I treated him. Often, after having
washedmy hair, with my wet hair held back by clips, looking an absolutefright,
or maybewith my toothbrush in my mouth and with toothpasteon my lips, or
my handscoveredin soapwhen I wasaboutto washsomeclothes,an aprontied
at my waist,with a largestomachlike a pregnantwoman,I would openthe door
and askhim to comein without evenlookingat him. Often in my carelessness, I
think he sawme comeout of the bathroomwrappedin a towel, shuffling along
in my slipperslike an old woman.
Chusco,Albahacaand Serranitoflew to the containerwhich held littte thorny
arrows.Carryingthe arrows,they would enthusiastically fly to other containers
which held a dark liquid in which they dipped the minute tips of the arrows.
They looked like toy birds, cheap penholders or the decorationson a
grandmother'shat.
Cleobula, who is not a malicious person, had noticed and told me that
Ruperto staredat me far too intently. 'lfhat eyes!' he'd repeat incessantly.
'\$7hatwonderful eyes!'
'I've managedto keepmy eyesopenwhen I sleep',murmured Antonio. 'It's
one of the cleveresttricks I've ever managedto do.'
I jumped when I heardhis voice. Was that the trick? After all, what was so
extraordinaryabout it?
'Like Ruperto', I said with a strangevoice.
'Like Ruperto', repeatedAntonio. 'The canariesobeymy ordersmore easily
than my eyelids.'
The three of us were in that darkened room as if in penance.But what
 THE ATONEMENT 195

possiblelink could there be betweenhis eyesbeing open during sleepand the

orders he gave to the canaries? No wonder Antonio left me somehow
perplexed-he was so different from other men!
Cleobulahad also assuredme that while Ruperto tuned his guitar he would
look me over from the tip of my hair to the tips of my feet. One night, falling
asleep,half drunk in the patio, his eyeshad stayedfixed on me. The result of
this was that I becameseH-consciousand maybe even flirtatious. Ruperto
looked at me through a kind of mask into which his animal-like eyeswere set,
eyesthat he didn't close,even to sleep.\fith a mysteriousintensity, he would
fix his eyeson me when he wasthirsty, God knows with what intention, iust as
he fixed them on the glassof orangejuice or mate tea that I servedhim. No one
in the whole province, in the whole world had eyes that stared so-a deep
shining blue, like fragmentsof sky, set them apart from the others, whoseeyes
seemeddull or dead.Ruperto wasnot a man, he wasa pair of eyes,without face,
without voice, without a body, or so it seemedto me but Antonio didn't share
my feeling. During the months when my lack of awarenesscameto exasperate
him, at the slightestexcusehe would talk to me abruptly or makeme do arduous
tasks, as if I had been his slaveinsteadof his wife. It grieved me to seehow
Antonio had changed.
Men are so strange! \Uflhatwas the trick that he wanted to show us? The
businessabout the circus hadn't been a ioke.
Soon after we were married, he began to frequently miss work, with the
excusethat he had a headacheor an inexplicable queasinessin his stomach.
!flere all husbandslike this?
At the back of the house,the huge birdcagefull of canariesthat Antonio had
alwayslookedafter so conscientiouslylay forgotten. In the morning, if I had the
time, I'd clean the birdcage, put canary grass,water and lettuce in the white
containersand when the femaleswere going to lay eggs,I'd preparethe little
nests. Antonio had alwayslooked after thesethings, but he no longer showed
the slightestinterest in doing it or even in my doing it.
\[fle had been married for two yearsand not one child! Instead, how many
young had the canariesgiven birth to!
The smell of musk and cedar filled the room. The canariessmelt like hens,
Antonio of tobaccoand sweat,but Ruperto smelt only of alcohol. Peopletold
me he often got drunk. The room was so dirty! Canary grass, breadcrumbs,
lettuce leaves,cigaretteends and ash were scatteredover the floor.
Sincechildhood, Antonio had spent his free time training animals. He first
put his art into practice,for he wasa true artist, with a dog, a horse,then with a
skunk that had had an operation and that he carried around for a time in his
pocket. Later, when he met me, he thought of training canariesbecauseI liked
them. During the months of our courtship, so as to win my heart, he had sent
the canariesto me carrying little piecesof paperwith romantic messages written
on them or flowers tied with a little ribbon. From the housewhere he lived to
mine there were fifteen large blocks; the winged messengerswent from his
houseto mine without faltering. Incredible asit may seem,they managedto put
the flowers in my hair and a little messagein the pocket of my blouse.
 t96 THE BOOK OF FANTASY

Canariesputting flowers in my hair and little papersin my pocket, was that

not more difficult than the ridiculous things they were doing with those
wretchedlittle arrows?
Antonio cameto enioy greatprestigein the village. 'If you hypnotizedwomen
like you do birds nobody would resistyour charms', his auntswould telt him in
the hope that their nephewwould marry somemillionairess.As I havealready
mentioned,Antonio wasnot interestedin money. Sincethe ageof fifteen he had
worked as a mechanicand,hehad all he wanted,which is what he offeredme
when he proposed.$fe needednothing else to make us happy. I couldn't
understand why Antonio didn't find an excuseto keep Ruperto away. Any
reasonwould have been good enoughfor the purpose,even if no more than a
quarrel over work or politics, which, without escalatinginto a fullblown fight
using fists or weapons, would have meant that Ruperto was barred from
entering our house. Antonio didn't let any of his feelingsshow, exceptfor in
that changeof characterwhich only I knew how to interpret. Going againstmy
naturalmodesty,I realizedthat becauseof me my husband,whom i nra always
consideredthe most reasonableof men, was being driven out of his mind with
iealousy.
Antonio whistled and took off his vest. His naked torso seemedmade of
bronze. I trembled to look at him. I rememberedthat before marrying him I
blushedwhen I sawa statuewhich looked very much like him. Had I not ,..n
him naked before?\$fhy was I so surprised?
But Antonio's character underwent another change which calmed me
somewhat:he went from being apatheticto being extremelyactive, from being
melancholyhe appearedto becomecheerful. His life becamefull oi mysterious
occupations,of a coming and going which seemedto denote great interest in
life. After dinner, we didn't evenhavea moment'speaceto listen to the radio or
to read the daily papers,or iust to do nothing, or to talk for a while about the
eventsof the day. Neither wereSundaysor holidaysan excuseto allowourselves
a rest. I, who am like Antonio's mirror image, becamepossessedby his
restlessness and, overpoweredby the necessityto keep up *ith my husband's
enigmatic occupations,paced around the house, tiAying wardrobesthat had
alreadybeingtidied or washingspotlesscushioncovers.His love and assiduous
carefor the birds redoubledand took up a large part of the day. He addednew
sectionsto the birdcageand the little dead tree which stood ar its cenrre was
replacedby another larger and more graceful one which made the cagemore
atffactive.
Dropping their arrows, two of the canariesstartedto fight: the little feathers
flew around the room, Antonio's face grew dark with anger. \Uflouldhe be
capableof killing them?Cleobulahad told me that he wascruel. 'He looksasif
he carriesa knife at his beh', she had added.
Antonio now no longer allowedme to cleanout the birdcage.At that time he
left the marital bed to sleepin the room which was used as a sroreroomat the
back of the house.Antonio slepton an ottomanwheremy brother usedto take a
nap when he cameto visit us but he would spendwhat I suspectwere sleepless
nights, as I could hear him pacing up and down until dawn. Sometimeshe
 THE ATONEMENT r97

would shut himself for hours at a time in that wrechedroom.

One by one the canarieslet the little arows drop from their beaks.They
landed on the back of a chair and started singing softly. Antonio sat up and
looking at Maria Callas, whom he had always called 'the Queen of Dis-
obedience',he uttereda word that I could not understand.The canariesstarted
to fly around again.
I tried to follow his movementsthrough the paintedwindowpanes.I cut my
hand on purpose with a knife so that I dared knock at his door. r$flhenhe
opened,a whole flock of canariesflew out in the direction of the birdcage.
Antonio dressedmy wound but, asif he suspectedthat it wasiust an excuseto
attract his attention, his manner was abrupt and suspicious.At that time he
madea iourney by bus which lastedtwo weeks-I don't know where he went
and he returnedwith a bag full of plants.
I gavea sidewaysglanceto my sttainedskirt. Birds are so small and so dirty.
tUfhenhad they stainedmy skirt? I looked at them with hatred-I like to be
cleanevenin a darkenedroom.
Ruperto, unawareof the bad feelingthat his visits caused,cameas often as
usual and had the samehabits. Sometimes,when I left the patio to avoid his
glances,my husbandwould find an excuseto makeme return. It seemedasif he
somehowenjoyedthat which he found so unpleasant.Ruperto's staresnow
seemedobscene:they undressedme in the shadeof the vine and made me do
shamefulthings when, at dusk, a freshbreezestrokedmy cheeks.Antonio, on
the other hand, never looked at me or, so Cleobulatold me, pretendednot to.
For a time, one of my most ardent desireswasto havenever known him, never
married him or felt his careessso as to have been able to meet him, discover
him, give myself to him. But who regainsthat which he has alreadylost?
I sat up-my legshurt. I don't like to be still for so long. How I envy birds
flying! But I pity canaries.They seemto suffer when they obey commands.
Antonio didn't try to stop Ruperto'svisits, on the contrary, he encouraged
them. During the carnival,one night that he stayeduntil very late, he went to
rhe extremeof inviting him to stayat our house.til(ehad to put him in the room
that Antonio provisionallyslept in. That night, as if it were the most natural
thing in the world, we slept togetheragain,my husbandand I, in the marital
bed. From that momentmy life returnedto normal, or so I thought.
In a corner, under the table with the light on it, I could just make out the
famousdoll. I thought of picking it up. As if I had actually gone to do so,
Antonio said to me:
'Don't move'.
I rememberedthat day during carnivalweekwhen I wastidying the rooms,I
had discoveredas a punishmentfor my sins, the rag doll, lying on Antonio's
wardrobe,with largeblue eyesmadeof cloth with two dark circlesin the centre
made to look like pupils. Had it been dressedas a gaucho it could have
decoratedour bedroom.Laughing,I showedit to Antonio, who took it from me
'I
with annoyance.'It's a souvenirfrom my childhood', he told me. don't like
you touchingmy things'.
'Vhat harm is there in touching a doll that you played with in your
198 THE BOOK OF FANTASY

childhood?I know boys who playedwith dolls, are you ashamedof it? Aren't
you a grown man now?' I askedhim.
'I don't haveto give you any explanation.The best thing is for you to shut

In a temper,Antonio againplacedthe doll on top of the wardrobeand didn't

say a word to me for severaldays. But we slept togetheragainas in happier
times.
I passedmy hand over my damp forehead.Had my curlers come undone?
Luckily, there was no mirror in the room as I would not have resistedthe
temptationof lookingat myselfinsteadof lookingat the canariesthat I found so
silly.
Antonio often shut himself in the back room and I noticedthat he left the
door of the birdcageopenso that oneof the little birds could fly in through the
window. One afternoon,driven by my curiosity,I spiedon him. I had to stand
on a chair, as the window wasvery high up (this naturallydid not allow me to
look inside the room when I was passingthrough the patio).
I could seeAntonio'snakedtorso.\ilflasit my husbandor a statue?He accused
Rupertoof being mad, but maybehe was evenmore mad. How much money
had he spenton buying canaries,insteadof buying me a washingmachine!
One day I caughtsight of the doll lying on the bed. A whole group of little
birds fluttered around it. The room had been transformedinto a kind of
laboratory.In a earthenwarecontainer,there was a pile of leaves,stemsand
dark piecesof bark. In anothercontainertherewassomelittle arrowsmadewith
thorns. In anotherone therewas a shining brown liquid. It seemedas if I had
alreadyseenthoseobjectsin dreamsand, soasto put an end to my perplexity,I
recountedthe sceneto Cleobulawho told me:
'That is what the Indians do: they usearrowsdipped
in Curare.'
I didn't ask her what 'Curare' meant. Nor did I know if shewas telling me
this with scornor with admiration.
'They aregivento witchcraft.Your husbandis an
Indian.' And on seeingmy
surprise,sheasked,'Didn't you know?'
Annoyed, I shook my head. My husbandwas my husband. I had never
thought of him belongingto anotherraceor to a world other than my own.
'How do you know?' I askedvehemently.
'Haven't you lookedat his eyes,his high cheek
bones?Haven't you noticed
how Indian he is? Mandarin, evenMaria Callasare more frank than he is. His
reserve,his way of not answeringa question,his way of treatingwomen, isn't
that enoughto prove that he is an Indian?My mother knowsall aboutit. They
took him awayfrom a settlementwhen he wasfive yearsold. Maybe that is what
you like about him, his mysteriousness which setshim apart from other men.'
Antonio wassweatingand the sweatmadehis torsoshine.Sucha solid young
man and wastinghis time! If I had marriedJuanLeston,the lawyer,or Roberto
Cuentas,the bookkeeper,I would probably not have sufferedso much. But
what sensitivewoman marries for money?They say there are men who train
fleasand what is the point of that?
I lost faith in Cleobula.Undoubtedly, she told me that my husbandwas
 THE ATONEMENT 199

Indian so as to hurt me or to make me lose my faith in him. But on leafing

through a history book which showed illustrations of Indian settlements and
Indians on horseback carrying bolas*, I saw the similarity between Antonio and
those naked men adorned with feathers. I also noticed that what had maybe
attracted me to Antonio was the difference between him and my brothers and
their friends, the dark colour of his skin, his slanting eyes and that Indian look
about him which Cleobula mentioned with perverse enioyment.
'rffhat about the trick?' I asked.
Antonio didn't answer me. He was staring at the canarieswhich began flying
around the room again. Mandarin separated himself from his companions and
from the darkness he could be heard singing like a lark.
My solitude increased. I told no one of my worries.
During Easter week, Antonio insisted that Ruperto stayed as a guest in our
house for the second time. It was raining, as it tends to do during Easter week.
Ve went to church with Cleobula to do the Stations of the Cross.
'How is the Indian?' asked Cleobula insolently.
'Who?'
.The Indian, your husband', she answered. 'That's what everyone in the
village calls him'.
,I like Indians. Even if my husband were not one I would still like them', I
answered, trying to continue my prayers.
Antonio was in an attitude of prayer. Had he ever prayed before? On our
wedding day, my morher had asked him to receive communion but Antonio did
not comply.
Meanwhile Antonio and Ruperto's friendship grew stronger. A kind of
camaraderie, from which I was somehow excluded, united them in a way which
seemedgenuine. At that time, Antonio showed off his powers. So as to occupy
himseff,1e would send the canarieswith messagesto Ruperto. People said that
they were using them to play some kind of cardgame, as they did once exchange
some Spanish cards. \flere they making fun of me? The game that the two men
were playing annoyed me and I decided not to take them seriously. Did I have to
concede that friendship was more important than love? Nothing had separated
Antonio and Ruperto. Instead, Antonio, uniustly in some wxY, had moved away
from me. My pride as woman suffered. Ruperto continued to stare at me. That
whole drama, had it been nothing but a farce? Did I miss the coniugal drama,
the torment thar had resulted from the jealousy of a husband driven mad for so
many days?
$7e stitl loved each other in spite of everything.
In a circus Antonio could earn money with his tricks, whY not? Maria Callas
nodded her little head to one side, then to the other and landed on the back of a
chair.
One morning, Antonio came into my room and, as if announcing that the
house was on fire, said to me:

rWeapon used by Argentine gauchos which consists of several ropes tied together with metal balls
at the ends.
2W THE BOOK OF FANTASY

'Ruperto is dying. They came to fetch me. I am going to see him.'

Busying myself with chores in the house, I waited for Antonio until midday.
He returned when I was washing my hair.
'Come on', he said to me. 'Ruperto is in the patio. I saved him.'
'How? Was it a
ioke?'
'Not at all. I saved him with artificial respiration.'

Not understanding anything, I quickly tied back my hair, dressed and went
our to the patio. Ruperto stood immobile by the door and was staring unseeingly
at rhe tiles on the patio floor. Antonio brought a chair to him so that he could sit
down.
Antonio didn't look at me, he looked at the ceiling as if he were holding his
breath. Mandarin unexpectedly flew by Antonio and stuck one of the little
arrows in his arm. I clapped as I thought this would please Antonio.
Nevertheless it seemeda ridiculous trick. \flhy did he not use his ingenuity to
cure Ruperto! On that fatal day, Ruperto, sitting down, covered his face with
his hands. How he had changed! I looked at his cold inanimate face, his dark
hands.
I(/hen would they leave me alone! I had to put my wet hair into curlers. I
asked Ruperto, trying to hid my annoyance:
'Vhat's happened?'
A long silence which made the birds' singing clearly audible quivered in the
sun. Ruperto answered at last:
'I
dreamt that the canarieswere pecking my arms, my neck, my chest, that I
couldn't shut my eyelids to protect my eyes. I dreamt that my arms and my legs
were heavy like sacksof sand. I couldn't scare away with my hands the horrible
beaks that were pecking at my eyes. I was sleeping without being asleep as if I
had taken some kind of drug. \(Ihen I awoke from that dream which was not a
dream, I saw darkness. But I could hear the birds singing and the normal
morning noises. Making a huge effort, I called my sister, who came to me. \$(lith
a voice that was not my own I said:
'
"You have to call Antonio so that he can saveme." "\7hat from?" asked my
sister. I couldn't say another single word. My sister ran out and came back half
an hour later with Antonio. Half an hour which had seemedlike a whole century
to me! Slowly as Antonio moved my arms, I regained my strength but not my
sight.'
'I am going to make a confession to you', murmured Antonio and
he added
slowly, 'but without words.'
Favorita followed Mandarin and stuck a little arrow in Antonio's neck. Maria
Callas hovered over him for an instant before sticking another little arrow in his
chest. Antonio's eyes, staring fixedly at the ceiling, seemed to change colour.
Was Antonio an Indian? Could an Indian have blue eyes? His eyes somehow
looked like Ruperto's.
'\iflhat does all this mean?' I mused.
'\Uflhatis he doing?' said Ruperto, who did not understand anything.
Antonio didn't answer. He remained immobile like a statue while the canaries
 THE ATONEMENT 201
piercedhim with the inoffensive-looking arrows.I went up ro the bedand shook
him.
'What doesall this mean?',
I said.'Answerme. Answerme.'
He did not reply. In tears,I embracedhim and threw myselfover his body.
Losing any self-restraint,I kissedhim on the mouth as only a film star could
havedone. A flock of canariesfluttered aroundmy head.
That morning Antonio lookedat Rupertowith horror. I now understoodthat
Antonio wasdoubly guilty. So that nobodywould find out about his crime, he
had said to me and had said afterwardsto everybody:
'Rupertohasgonemad. He
thinks he is blind but he can seeaswell asany of
us.t
Just as the light had left Ruperto's eyes, love left our house. It was almost as if
his glances were necessaryto our love. The gatherings in the patio had become
quiet and dull. Antonio fell into a deep gloom. He would explain to me:
'A friend's madnessis worse than death. Ruperto can seebut he thinks he is
blind'.
I thought despairingly, maybe with jealousy, that friendship was more
important than love in the life of a man.
\0(IhenI stopped kissing Antonio and took my face away from his, I saw that
the canarieswere about to peck at his eyes. I covered his face with my face and
hair, which is as thick as a shawl. I ordered Ruperto to shut the door and
windows so that the room should be in complete darkness, waiting for the
canariesto go to sleep. My legs ached. How long did I remain like that? I don't
know. Slowly I understood Antonio's confession. It was a confessionthat united
us in a frenzied misfortune. I understood the pain that he had endured when
sacrificing in such an ingenious way, with a minute dose of Curare and the
winged monsters which obeyed his whimsical commands, the eyes of Ruperto,
his friend, and his own, so that they would not be able to look at me, poor
things, ever again.