Ah, why had fate led me into this
sweet Arcadia, since I must presently leave it to go back to the dull
world of toil and strife.
That vain low strife
Which makes men mad, the tug for wealth and power,
The passions and the cares that wither life
And waste its little hour?
Had it not been for the thought of Paquita waiting for me over there
in Montevideo, I could have said, "O good friend Sweet Potato, and good
friends all, let me remain for ever with you under this roof,
sharing your simple pleasures, and, wishing for nothing better, forget
that great crowded world where all men are striving to conquer Nature
and death and to win fortune; until, having wasted their miserable
lives in their vain endeavours, they drop down and the earth is
shovelled over them!"
Shortly after sunset the expected Anselmo arrived to spend the night
with his relations, and scarcely had he got down from his horse before
Margarita was at his side to ask the avuncular blessing, at the same
time raising his hand to her delicate lips. He gave his blessing,
touching her golden hair; then she lifted her face bright with new
happiness.
Anselmo was a fine specimen of the Oriental gaucho, dark and with good
features, his hair and moustache intensely black. He wore costly
clothes, while his whip-handle, the sheath of his long knife, and other
things about him were of massive silver.
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