The Bridge of San Luis Rey Page #6

In compiling my book,

I was pursued by the fear that...

...in omitting the slightest detail...

I might lose some guiding hint.

So you put down

every insignificant detail...

...on the notion perhaps

that, to the reader...

...these countless facts

would suddenly start to move...

...to assemble

and betray their secret?

I did not intend to betray

the secrets of the dead...

...for those are surely forgiven...

...even if their lives were forsaken.

The Apostles, if you recall,

in the New Testament...

...rightly reserve such an accolade

for Ohrist our Lord.

He alone was forsaken...

...crucified on the Oross

for the forgiveness of sins.

Doa Maria knew that

she, too, sinned...

...and that though her love

for her daughter was vast enough...

...to include all the colors of love...

...it was not without

a shade of tyranny.

She had loved her daughter...

...not for her daughter's sake...

...but for her own.

She longed to free herself

from this ignoble bond...

...but the passion

was too fierce to cope with.

How could she rule her daughter...

...when her daughter saw to it

that 4,000 miles lay between them?

All she could ask of her God

or of immortality...

...was some sign

of herdaughter's devotion...

...a kind word,

an affectionate aside...

...a letter from Spain.

I will bring it in to her.

Pepita?

Is that a package from Spain?

Let me see.

Here, quick. Read it to me.

"My dear mother...

...the weather here

has been most exhausting...

...and the fact that the orchards

and the gardens are in bloom...

...only makes it the more trying. "

"I could endure flowers

if only they had no perfume. "

Pass on to the end. Is there

nothing of more consequence?

"If Vicente returns

before the post leaves...

...he will be delighted

to finish out the leaf...

...and supply you with those

tiresome details about myself...

...which you seem to enjoy so. "

"I shall not go to Grignan

in Provence as I expected this fall...

...as my child will be born

in early October. "

What child?

How could she be so casual?

Santa Maria Rosa!

Take that knot out of your hair!

Go tell the maids they are all

to take the knots out of their hair.

And get me some red chalk!

Mother of God.

Quickly, take it off!

Every single one!

Will all be well...

...sweet, sweet Mother Maria

Santa Rosa of Cluxambuqua?

Will all be well?

And while I am making

my pilgrimage...

...you must be sure not one foot

falls on any of the red-chalked steps.

At last, the supreme rite

of Peruvian households.

Looking foreword

to this happy event...

...she set out on her pilgrimage...

...to the shrine

of Santa Maria de Cluxambuqua...

...to pray for a safe delivery.

My friend.

God give me praise.

Let me help you.

At least eat a little.

If you won't let me help you...

...will you tell me which you are?

Manuel...

God has taken him

into His hands.

For the Captain Alvarado.

He is the diamond of sincerity.

I will deliver it directly.

Go with God, Don Pio.

Go with God.

Bring me to him.

We do what we can!

We push on, Esteban...

...as best we can.

And it isn't for long...

...as time keeps going by.

You'll be surprised

at how quickly time passes.

Wait! Wait!

Whoa!

His Excellency, Don Andrs,

needs to speak with you urgently.

What in the devil about?

The epidemic, you old fool!

What epidemic?

Hundreds have been

struck down with a pox...

...and the cup of the envious

fairly overflow...

...with the rumor that

the Perichole has it, too.

Every gift I ever gave to her...

...returned without comment.

I must go to her at once.

Oh, I've tried.

Has anyone seen her?

She will see no one at all

but her maid...

...and will neither confirm nor deny

the rumors that she has been marked.

His Excellency

has made repeated attempts...

...to contact her, to no avail...

...save a large sum of money...

Ha!

...and a letter compounded...

...by all that's possible

in bitterness and pride.

And now this angry little dispatch.

And like many beautiful women...

...who have been brought up amid

continual tributes to their beauty...

...she assumed, without cynicism...

...that it was the basis

of others' attachment to her.

And what?

That any future attentions...

...must spring from a pity

so full of condescension...

...as to be sodden

with the satisfaction...

...at such a complete

reversal of fortune? Please.

You patronize His Excellency

and the court.

Allow him his thesis.

I am curious as to how he

can conclude the matter.

There are not sufficient words

to explain...

...the events that might

or might not have been the same...

...without the fall of

the Bridge of San Luis Rey.

La Perichole had removed

with her child, Don Jaime...

...to a farm house in a valley

between there and Cluxambuqua.

And thither the Marquesa was carried...

...high up into the Andean hills

on her pilgrimage...

...reciting all the glorious

and sorrowful mysteries...

...of her rosary along the route.

Pepita, devoutly devoted

to her prayerful purpose...

...followed behind on foot.

"Dear...

...Abbess. "

"Though I never see you,

I think of you all the time...

...and I remember what you told me

about my future with the sisters. "

"Sometimes I do not know

if you have forgotten...

...for I would like to leave

this world forever...

...and take my place

at the foot of the Cross of Christ...

...and follow His way. "

"Mother in God...

...I want only to do what you want...

...but I am so alone here. "

"I'm not talking to anyone...

...so if you could let me

come back to the convent...

...just for a few days, maybe...

...and if you could find a minute

to write me a little letteror something...

...I could keep it...

...though I know how busy you are. "

Read me what you've written.

Is it a letter?

I must go downstairs

and get you some new charcoal.

It can wait.

I would so like to hear

how you write.

"Dear Abbess,

"Though I never see you,

I think of you all the time...

...and I remember what you told me

about my future with the sisters. "

"Sometimes I do not know

if you have forgotten...

...for I would like

to leave this world forever...

...and take my place at

the foot of the Cross of Christ...

...and follow His way. "

My dear Pepita...

...it's very beautiful.

Believe me, I know.

It isn't.

It isn't brave.

And at last she wrote

what she called herfirst letter...

...her first stumbling, misspelled letter...

...in courage.

It is the famous letter LVI...

...known to the encyclopedists

as her I Corinthians...

...because of its immortal

paragraph about love.

"Of the thousands of persons

we meet in a lifetime, my child... "

...and so on.

This, the last of her letters...

...is at the very least immortal...

...though I know now that her daughter

barely glanced at any of them.

In spite of their appeals

for her attention...

...every one was returned.

And that it is to Pepita...

...that we owe their preservation.

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