Dead Star Paz Marquez Benitez Essay

Dead Star Paz Marquez Benitez Essay-59
Esperanza had wanted to know if he went straight home after mass.

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He has not had another love affair that I know of," she said with good-natured contempt. Or was the love that others told about a mere fabrication of perfervid imagination, an exaggeration of the commonplace, a glorification of insipid monotonies such as made up his love life?

So he had avidly seized on the shadow of Love and deluded himself for a long while in the way of humanity from time immemorial. Greed--the desire to crowd into a moment all the enjoyment it will hold, to squeeze from the hour all the emotion it will yield.

THROUGH the open window the air-steeped outdoors passed into his room, quietly enveloping him, stealing into his very thought. "How can a woman be in a hurry when the man does not hurry her? In those days love was, for him, still the eternal puzzle; for love, as he knew it, was a stranger to love as he divined it might be.

Esperanza, Julia, the sorry mess he had made of life, the years to come even now beginning to weigh down, to crush--they lost concreteness, diffused into formless melancholy. Alfredo is not very specific, but I understand Esperanza wants it to be next month." Carmen sighed impatiently. " Carmen returned, pinching off a worm with a careful, somewhat absent air. Sitting quietly in his room now, he could almost revive the restlessness of those days, the feeling of tumultuous haste, such as he knew so well in his boyhood when something beautiful was going on somewhere and he was trying to get there in time to see.

He enjoyed talking with her and it was evident that she liked his company; yet what feeling there was between them was so undisturbed that it seemed a matter of course.

Only when Esperanza chanced to ask him indirectly about those visits did some uneasiness creep into his thoughts of the girl next door.

Six weeks ago that house meant nothing to him save that it was the Martinez house, rented and occupied by Judge del Valle and his family.

Six weeks ago Julia Salas meant nothing to him; he did not even know her name; but now-- One evening he had gone "neighboring" with Don Julian; a rare enough occurrence, since he made it a point to avoid all appearance of currying favor with the Judge.

The tranquil murmur of conversation issued from the brick-tiled azotea where Don Julian and Carmen were busy puttering away among the rose pots. "Hurry, hurry, or you will miss it," someone had seemed to urge in his ears.

Esperanza must be tired waiting." "She does not seem to be in much of a hurry either," Don Julian nasally commented, while his rose scissors busily snipped away. "What I mean is that at the beginning he was enthusiastic--flowers, serenades, notes, and things like that--" Alfredo remembered that period with a wonder not unmixed with shame. He could not understand those months of a great hunger that was not of the body nor yet of the mind, a craving that had seized on him one quiet night when the moon was abroad and under the dappled shadow of the trees in the plaza, man wooed maid. Was love a combination of circumstances, or sheer native capacity of soul?


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