Read Online City of the Beasts by Isabel Allende - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Isabel Allende
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Indians dumbfounded. They had no concept of guilt. Nor did they understand the need to wear clothing in this climate, or to accumulate wealth, since they couldn't take anything to the other world when they died.
"It's a shame they're condemned to disappear; they are an anthropologist's dream, don't you think, Professor Leblanc?" Mauro Carías's tone was mocking.
"That is true. Fortunately I have been here to write about them before they succumb to progress. Thanks to Ludovic Leblanc, they will live on in history," the professor replied, totally unaware of Carías's sarcasm.
That evening, dinner consisted of servings of broiled tapir, beans, and cassava tortillas, none of which Alex wanted to try, even though he was as hungry as a wolf.
•
After dinner, while his grandmother was drinking vodka and smoking her pipe in the company of the men, Alex went down to the river with Nadia. The moon was shining like a great yellow lamp in the sky. They were surrounded by the sounds of the jungle, like background music: bird cries, chattering monkeys, croaking toads, and crickets. Thousands of fireflies darted past them, brushing their faces. Nadia caught one in her hand and placed it in her curls, where it kept on blinking like a little light. She sat down on the dock and dabbled her feet in the dark water of the river. Alex asked her about piranhas; he had seen dried ones in the souvenir shops in Manaus, looking like miniature sharks. They were about eight inches long and provided with formidable jaws and teeth as sharp as knives.
"Piranhas are very useful; they clean dead animals and junk from the water. My father says that they only attack if they smell blood or if they're hungry," she explained.
She told Alex about the time she had watched as a caiman, badly wounded by a jaguar, dragged itself into the water, where piranhas ate into the wound and devoured the caiman from the inside in a matter of minutes, leaving its hide intact.
At that moment, Nadia sat up straight and made a sign not to speak. Borobá, the little monkey, began to jump up and down and shriek, very agitated, but Nadia quickly calmed it by whispering in its ear. Alex had the impression that the monkey understood its owner's words perfectly. All he could see were the shadows of the vegetation and the black mirror of the water, but it was obvious that something had captured Nadia's attention, because she got to her feet. In the distance, he heard the sound of someone strumming a guitar in the village. If he turned, he could see lights in the houses behind him, but they were alone at the river.
Nadia gave a long, sharp cry that to Alex's ears sounded exactly like an owl, and an instant later, a similar cry answered from the other bank. She repeated the call twice, and both times got the same response. Then she took Alex by the arm and motioned him to follow. He remembered César Santos's warning to stay inside the boundaries of the village after dusk, as well as all the stories he had heard about snakes, wild beasts, bandits, and drunks with guns. And best not even think about the ferocious Indians described by Leblanc… or the Beast. But he didn't want to look like a coward in the eyes of the girl, so he followed without a word, grasping his opened Swiss Army knife.
They left the last huts of the village behind and moved forward with caution, their only light the moon. The jungle was not as thick as Alex had imagined; the vegetation was dense along the banks of the river but then it grew more sparse and it was possible to walk without much difficulty. They had not gone far before the cry of the owl was repeated. They were in a clearing, and they could see the moon shining in the heavens. Nadia stopped and waited, not moving a muscle. Even Borobá was quiet, as if it knew what they were waiting for. Suddenly Alex jumped with surprise: less than ten feet away a figure had materialized from the night, suddenly and silently, like a ghost. He raised his knife,
"It's a shame they're condemned to disappear; they are an anthropologist's dream, don't you think, Professor Leblanc?" Mauro Carías's tone was mocking.
"That is true. Fortunately I have been here to write about them before they succumb to progress. Thanks to Ludovic Leblanc, they will live on in history," the professor replied, totally unaware of Carías's sarcasm.
That evening, dinner consisted of servings of broiled tapir, beans, and cassava tortillas, none of which Alex wanted to try, even though he was as hungry as a wolf.
•
After dinner, while his grandmother was drinking vodka and smoking her pipe in the company of the men, Alex went down to the river with Nadia. The moon was shining like a great yellow lamp in the sky. They were surrounded by the sounds of the jungle, like background music: bird cries, chattering monkeys, croaking toads, and crickets. Thousands of fireflies darted past them, brushing their faces. Nadia caught one in her hand and placed it in her curls, where it kept on blinking like a little light. She sat down on the dock and dabbled her feet in the dark water of the river. Alex asked her about piranhas; he had seen dried ones in the souvenir shops in Manaus, looking like miniature sharks. They were about eight inches long and provided with formidable jaws and teeth as sharp as knives.
"Piranhas are very useful; they clean dead animals and junk from the water. My father says that they only attack if they smell blood or if they're hungry," she explained.
She told Alex about the time she had watched as a caiman, badly wounded by a jaguar, dragged itself into the water, where piranhas ate into the wound and devoured the caiman from the inside in a matter of minutes, leaving its hide intact.
At that moment, Nadia sat up straight and made a sign not to speak. Borobá, the little monkey, began to jump up and down and shriek, very agitated, but Nadia quickly calmed it by whispering in its ear. Alex had the impression that the monkey understood its owner's words perfectly. All he could see were the shadows of the vegetation and the black mirror of the water, but it was obvious that something had captured Nadia's attention, because she got to her feet. In the distance, he heard the sound of someone strumming a guitar in the village. If he turned, he could see lights in the houses behind him, but they were alone at the river.
Nadia gave a long, sharp cry that to Alex's ears sounded exactly like an owl, and an instant later, a similar cry answered from the other bank. She repeated the call twice, and both times got the same response. Then she took Alex by the arm and motioned him to follow. He remembered César Santos's warning to stay inside the boundaries of the village after dusk, as well as all the stories he had heard about snakes, wild beasts, bandits, and drunks with guns. And best not even think about the ferocious Indians described by Leblanc… or the Beast. But he didn't want to look like a coward in the eyes of the girl, so he followed without a word, grasping his opened Swiss Army knife.
They left the last huts of the village behind and moved forward with caution, their only light the moon. The jungle was not as thick as Alex had imagined; the vegetation was dense along the banks of the river but then it grew more sparse and it was possible to walk without much difficulty. They had not gone far before the cry of the owl was repeated. They were in a clearing, and they could see the moon shining in the heavens. Nadia stopped and waited, not moving a muscle. Even Borobá was quiet, as if it knew what they were waiting for. Suddenly Alex jumped with surprise: less than ten feet away a figure had materialized from the night, suddenly and silently, like a ghost. He raised his knife,
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