Read Online The Discreet Hero by Mario Vargas Llosa - Free Book Online
Authors: Mario Vargas Llosa
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interrupted his qigong. He went to open it, thinking that this morning Saturnina was early, because she never came before seven. But when he opened the door, the person he found on the threshold was Lucindo.
“Run, run, Don Felícito.” The blind man from the corner was very agitated. “A gentleman told me your office on Avenida Sánchez Cerro is on fire and you should call the fire department and get over there fast.”
IV
The wedding of Ismael and Armida was the shortest, most sparsely attended that Rigoberto and Lucrecia could remember, even though it provided them with quite a few surprises. It took place very early in the morning, in the town hall of Chorrillos, when the streets were still filled with pupils in uniform heading for school and office workers from Barranco, Miraflores, and Chorrillos hurrying to work in jitneys, cars, and buses. Ismael, who’d taken the expected precautions to keep his sons from finding out ahead of time, let Rigoberto know only the night before that at nine sharp he should appear at the office of the mayor of Chorrillos, accompanied by his wife if he so desired, and be sure to bring his identity documents. When they reached the town hall, the bride and groom were there with Narciso, who had on a dark suit, white shirt, and blue tie with little gold stars for the occasion.
Ismael was dressed in gray, with his usual elegance, and Armida wore a tailored suit, new shoes, and was visibly constrained and confused. She called Doña Lucrecia “señora” even after Lucrecia had embraced the bride and asked her to use informal address. “Now you and I are going to be good friends, Armida.” But for the ex-maid it was difficult, if not impossible, to comply.
The ceremony was very quick; the mayor stumbled through the obligations and duties of the contracting parties, and as soon as he finished reading, the witnesses signed the register. There were the obligatory embraces and handshakes. But it all seemed cold, thought Rigoberto, false and artificial. The surprise came when Ismael turned to Rigoberto and Lucrecia with a sly little smile as they were leaving the office: “And now, my friends, if you’re free, I’ll invite you to the religious ceremony.” They were going to be married in a church as well! “This is more serious than it seems,” Lucrecia remarked as they went to the old Church of Nuestra Señora del Carmen de la Legua on the outskirts of Callao, where the Catholic wedding took place.
“The only explanation is that your friend Ismael is moonstruck and has really fallen in love,” Lucrecia added. “Do you think he’s senile? He really doesn’t look it. My God, who can make heads or tails of all this? I certainly can’t.”
Everything was prepared in the church where, in colonial times, they say travelers from Callao to Lima always stopped to pray to the Blessed Virgin del Carmen for protection from the gangs of thieves who swarmed over the open countryside, which in those days separated the port from the capital of the viceroyalty. The priest took no more than twenty minutes to marry the couple and give his blessing to the newlyweds. There was no celebration at all, not even a toast, except, once more, congratulations and hugs from Narciso, Rigoberto, and Lucrecia. Only at that moment did Ismael reveal that he and Armida were leaving for the airport to begin their honeymoon. Their luggage was already in the trunk of the car. “But don’t ask me where we’re going, because I won’t tell you. Ah, and before I forget. Be sure to read the society page in tomorrow’s El Comercio . You’ll see the notice informing Limeñan society of our wedding.” He guffawed and gave a mischievous wink. He and Armida left immediately, driven by Narciso, who’d gone from being a witness to resuming his position as Don Ismael Carrera’s driver.
“I still don’t believe all this is happening,” Lucrecia repeated, as she and Rigoberto were returning home to Barranco along
“Run, run, Don Felícito.” The blind man from the corner was very agitated. “A gentleman told me your office on Avenida Sánchez Cerro is on fire and you should call the fire department and get over there fast.”
IV
The wedding of Ismael and Armida was the shortest, most sparsely attended that Rigoberto and Lucrecia could remember, even though it provided them with quite a few surprises. It took place very early in the morning, in the town hall of Chorrillos, when the streets were still filled with pupils in uniform heading for school and office workers from Barranco, Miraflores, and Chorrillos hurrying to work in jitneys, cars, and buses. Ismael, who’d taken the expected precautions to keep his sons from finding out ahead of time, let Rigoberto know only the night before that at nine sharp he should appear at the office of the mayor of Chorrillos, accompanied by his wife if he so desired, and be sure to bring his identity documents. When they reached the town hall, the bride and groom were there with Narciso, who had on a dark suit, white shirt, and blue tie with little gold stars for the occasion.
Ismael was dressed in gray, with his usual elegance, and Armida wore a tailored suit, new shoes, and was visibly constrained and confused. She called Doña Lucrecia “señora” even after Lucrecia had embraced the bride and asked her to use informal address. “Now you and I are going to be good friends, Armida.” But for the ex-maid it was difficult, if not impossible, to comply.
The ceremony was very quick; the mayor stumbled through the obligations and duties of the contracting parties, and as soon as he finished reading, the witnesses signed the register. There were the obligatory embraces and handshakes. But it all seemed cold, thought Rigoberto, false and artificial. The surprise came when Ismael turned to Rigoberto and Lucrecia with a sly little smile as they were leaving the office: “And now, my friends, if you’re free, I’ll invite you to the religious ceremony.” They were going to be married in a church as well! “This is more serious than it seems,” Lucrecia remarked as they went to the old Church of Nuestra Señora del Carmen de la Legua on the outskirts of Callao, where the Catholic wedding took place.
“The only explanation is that your friend Ismael is moonstruck and has really fallen in love,” Lucrecia added. “Do you think he’s senile? He really doesn’t look it. My God, who can make heads or tails of all this? I certainly can’t.”
Everything was prepared in the church where, in colonial times, they say travelers from Callao to Lima always stopped to pray to the Blessed Virgin del Carmen for protection from the gangs of thieves who swarmed over the open countryside, which in those days separated the port from the capital of the viceroyalty. The priest took no more than twenty minutes to marry the couple and give his blessing to the newlyweds. There was no celebration at all, not even a toast, except, once more, congratulations and hugs from Narciso, Rigoberto, and Lucrecia. Only at that moment did Ismael reveal that he and Armida were leaving for the airport to begin their honeymoon. Their luggage was already in the trunk of the car. “But don’t ask me where we’re going, because I won’t tell you. Ah, and before I forget. Be sure to read the society page in tomorrow’s El Comercio . You’ll see the notice informing Limeñan society of our wedding.” He guffawed and gave a mischievous wink. He and Armida left immediately, driven by Narciso, who’d gone from being a witness to resuming his position as Don Ismael Carrera’s driver.
“I still don’t believe all this is happening,” Lucrecia repeated, as she and Rigoberto were returning home to Barranco along
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