“That’s right.”
“How’s that possible, when I saw you yesterday in that spectacular charge among the deer?”
“The deer?” Clarke was momentarily puzzled.
“I saw you clear as day!”
“Really? Do you know something? I think I have a double.”
Carlos accepted the idea immediately, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He described that particular combat, when a crescent of Tehuelche horsemen had unwittingly trapped a huge number of deer in front of them. The Vorogas of course had taken them to be demonic reinforcements, and had fled.
“It was there I met up with Mallén, who must also have thought it was you, because he said: ‘That Englishman knows every trick in the book.’ So you have a double. . where did you/he come from?”
“How should I know? He turned up here, when I was about to go to sleep. I thought it must have been a dream, but now with what you’re telling me. .”
“He’s entirely real, I can assure you. And even though I only saw him from a distance, I was sure it was you. The same face, the same bearing, that dandified look you have, but at the same time like a wise man, as if you’re constantly thinking about Newton’s binomial theorem.”
Carlos fell about laughing. They carried on in a similar vein for some time. The birds were delicious. They made tea, then Carlos fell asleep. He said he needed to catch up. Clarke, who was if anything ahead on sleep, lay back smoking his pipe and staring at the sky through the foliage. He did not feel like thinking, but preferred the voluptuousness of an empty mind, which was where thinking led anyway. He took up his daydreaming where he had left off when Carlos arrived. . Where was he? He was trying to decide between fish and game. . and there had been no need to decide: he had eaten anyway. He meditated at length without a single thought entering his mind, and this was a happy moment in his life, even though it left no trace. It did however allow him to make a slight adjustment: until that moment he had considered thought to be the true representation of the continuum; now he realized that happiness fit the bill more precisely. Happiness was the real continuum, the one that brought satisfaction.
12: Clarke’s Story
When Carlos woke up (because there is always somebody who wakes up to give fresh impetus to a story), Clarke had already decided to head back for Buenos Aires. He considered their adventure over, and he was not particularly interested in any remaining loose ends. On the contrary, he thought it appropriate that some threads remain unexplained. He had had enough, he was exhausted, and felt like a vegetable, incapable of performing any fresh actions. It may seem contradictory that someone who feels this way should be in such a hurry to depart, but basically it is natural. His mistake was of another order.
“I’ve been thinking,” he began, “and it seems to me the moment has come to turn back. I’ve had my fill of Indians and nonsense, and if we set a reasonable pace we could be back in Buenos Aires in a month.”
“Much sooner even.”
“The fact is I’d prefer not to rush. I’d like to take my time, have a rest, perhaps carry out some observations. Even so, we’d arrive in time for the start of classes, so your parents won’t be put out.”
“Don’t worry on that score!”
“Let me decide what I worry about. What d’you think of the idea?”
“Clarke, you know I’ll do whatever you think best. The only thing I’m sorry about is that you never found your Hare.”
The Englishman felt a momentary flash of irritation.
“If you weren’t so utterly thoughtless, I’d say you were a complete cynic. I don’t know how you can stand there and reproach me about the Hare when you — who came here to paint — never made so much as a single miserable sketch, and. .”
“I’m taking the pampa with me imprinted on my retinas, that’s what matters! What would you know about art anyway? The English have never painted anything worthwhile!”
“. . And you forgot your famous Yñuy in a hurry, didn’t you?”
Even as he was saying this, Clarke regretted it, but the boy was so surprised he did not even react bitterly:
“It’s true, Yñuy. . I swear I had forgotten about her.”
“You see?”
“But I did search for her, you’re a witness to that. Is it my fault I couldn’t find her?”
“Two weeks ago you wanted to get married, now it’s neither here nor there.”
“No, it’s not! If I found her I’d go on loving her. . ”
“Don’t talk of love, you make me laugh.”
The pair of them fell silent, in a sulk.
“Look Clarke, I have to say it: you’re a bit of a bastard. You had no right to say that to me.”
“Sorry.”
“Yes, ‘sorry,’ ‘sorry,’ but you said it all the same.”
“You deserved it.” But then, seeing that this was getting them nowhere, Clarke chose a different tack:
“Don’t worry. After all, she was the one who left. It wasn’t you who got her pregnant, was it?”
“How could you think that! When I met her, she was at least eight months pregnant.”
“As much as that?”
“She had a belly. . ”
“Perhaps she’s already had it, who knows? And maybe she’s had it adopted.”
“I don’t think so.”
“It’s incredible how unconcerned the Mapuches are about their newborn. They claim to be defenders of the human race, but they give up their children without batting an eyelid.”
“Far be it from me to question your wisdom, but I’d say quite the opposite. I think they’re very affectionate with their children.”
“That’s true, but I was talking about the identity of the children when they’re just born.”
“Yes, but that’s what the birthmarks are for.”
“What?”
“The birthmarks. Don’t you have one? I’ve got one on my. . on my buttock. A small mark that looks like a hare in flight. When we were fighting, and I was. . well, when I was almost naked let’s say, it was visible, you can’t imagine how much the Indians commented on it, they’re so observant.”
Clarke suspected he was having his leg pulled, but let it pass.
“I’ve got a birthmark as well,” he said, to say something. “Here, between my eyes. You can’t see it because of my thick brows.”
“Let’s see,” Carlos said, coming closer.
“It’s barely noticeable. It’s a V-shape that’s lighter than the rest of my skin.”
“But it’s perfectly visible. It looks just like a hare’s ears.”
The Englishman exploded:
“There you go with the hare again! Are you doing it on purpose?”
Carlos rocked with laughter. Then a moment later, his gaze lost in the distance, he murmured:
“Yñuy is a very sweet girl.”
“Is she pretty?”
“Beautiful. You’d have really liked her.”
“We might still find her.”
“I asked everywhere. . ”
A silence.
“Shall we head back then?” said Clarke.
“OK. . let’s. The fact is, I’ve no idea what we’re doing here. Are you sure you don’t want to go to Salinas Grandes?”
“Not on your life. Besides, we’re a long way away.”
“Clarke!”
“What’s the matter? Don’t shout like that, you’ll give me a heart attack!”
“We’re forgetting Gauna!”
“Good. He’s someone who’s better to lose than to find.”
They mounted. While they were ambling along, Carlos kept on about the tracker, so Clarke told him the story of the Gauna Alvear family, and the gaucho’s views on it.
“You can’t deny it’s an ingenious tale,” the boy said when his friend had finished.
“That’s the worst thing about it.”