Renaldo (11 page)

for the voyage. It, it . . . oh Mama! Pietro! Papa! I have let you down. Don’t be

dead, God in heaven, don’t let them be dead!”

He was now screaming at the top of his lungs, and the commotion

attracted the attention of Señora Chazarretta and the rest of the boarders.

As she entered the room, the landlady started to berate the boy for his

unbecoming behavior, but she was stopped in mid-sentence by his shocking

appearance.

“Señor De Seta, it is hardly . . . What on earth has happened?”

Mario Togneri handed her the letter while he explained its contents.

Señora Chazarretta cast it aside and grasped the boy lovingly in her arms. He

was whimpering softly now in Italian, words and phrases she could not clearly

make sense of. She stayed with him for hours, comforting and reassuring him

about his future. She let Togneri and the other man that shared the room

sleep in her flat that night so that she could keep a watchful eye on her newly

orphaned boarder.

Although alcohol was forbidden in the boarding house, she produced

a small flask of cognac when she brought him some soup and bread in the

early morning hours. The cognac was all the boy desired, and it succeeded

in calming his overwrought nerves enough to induce a fitful sleep. When he

finally awoke late the following afternoon, he was still in a state of delirium.

Nothing he said made sense, speaking half in Italian, half in Spanish. The

young immigrant thrashed wildly at times in his bed, shouting the names of

his lost loved ones. He refused all food, and with the exception of the cognac

that Señora Chazaretta discretely supplied him to bring on sleep, he took no

nourishment for three days. Lonfranco remained in his bed for that entire time,

unable, or unwilling to talk to anyone.

Finally on the morning of the fourth day, as he lay curled in the fetal

position, the drapes and blankets that had been used to keep all light out

of the tiny room were cast aside, and brilliant sunshine filled the chamber.

Lonfranco reacted immediately to the glare that struck his disheveled form,

and he gingerly raised himself on one elbow and protested vigorously.

4

JAMES McCREATH

“Qué pasa? ‘What are you doing?’ “Cover those windows up and get out!

Leave me alone!”

He had to shield his eyes to see the form that stood in front of him more

clearly, and even at that, he did not recognize who it was. His head felt as if it

would explode any moment. His mouth was parched and dry, and although he

had no food in his stomach, he thought that he was about to throw up.

“Who are you? What do you want with me? Please go and leave me in

peace, I beg of you.”

“So that you can spend the rest of your life in bed feeling sorry for yourself?

I think not! I have seen too much good in you to let you throw it all away in

self-pity.” Although his eyes were still unable to focus, there was no mistaking

that voice of authority. He strained to rise to a sitting position.

“General San Marco! How, how did you find me here? Why did you come?

I, I am just a worker, not worthy of your time and . . . ”

“Be quiet, my dear boy. Your roommate, Togneri, came to my home to

tell me of your tragedy. Unfortunately, I was away for two days on military

matters. It was three days before I was able to read his note relating your

perilous condition. I came at once! So, you have lost your family back in Italy.

Tragic! May God have mercy on their souls. I will pray for them, but that is

all anyone can do for them now. You, my young friend, are an entirely different

matter. You will come with me now, to my home. I have sent for my personal

physician to attend to you. He is awaiting our arrival. My carriage is downstairs.

Señora Chazarreta will gather your belongings. You may have lost one family,

Lonfranco, but you are about to gain another. I have talked it over with my

wife and children. You are welcome to stay with us in our new home! Heaven

knows, you were the one responsible for completing the casa in record time. As

for your future, we will talk when you are of sounder mind and body. Now, my

friend, let me help you up.”

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So ended the first phase of Lonfranco De Seta’s life in Argentina. He

never could have imagined that out of such tragedy would arise such

opportunity. His recuperation from the depths of despair was accelerated

by the affection and attention that were showered upon him by the general and

his family. To be a resident in their home, a home that Lonfranco had helped to

build with his own hands, was a wonder that never ceased to amaze him during

his entire stay.

And what a magnificent residence Casa San Marco had turned out to

be. Covering two complete building lots, the neoclassical structure rose three

stories to a summit where four chimneys, one in each quadrant, anchored a

wooden balustrade. An open-air walkway skirted the entire second level of the

building, protected from the elements by the overhanging roofline.

The casa had an independent and dramatic presence, with its formal,

white stucco exterior and symmetrical design. An oversized, double thick

steel doorway was a concession to the general’s security-minded staff, but to

minimize its strength, it was flanked by Tuscan columns and capped by a large

paladin window and a cartouche with festoons.

The interior of the casa was no less spectacular. The two-story entrance

hall merged perfectly with the Italian marble winding staircase leading to

the private second story. The main floor’s principal rooms were all meant for

entertaining, with the pièce de résistance being the Louis the Fifteenth-style

ballroom that could accommodate two hundred or more guests. No expense

had been spared in detail or finishing materials. General Figueroa San Marco

intended to play host to the most powerful and influential men in all of

Argentina. Under the imported Spanish-tiled roof of his new home, he was

confident that his guests would be instantly impressed.

The casa’s rectangular shape enclosed an enormous central garden that

was a horticulturist’s delight. Flora from across the land displayed their magical

beauty and wafted their fragrant aromas. A large reflecting pond and grassed

games pitch gave the captive area a different personality with every meandering

turn of its pebbled walkways.

More than anything else, it was the long walks in the garden with Maria

that made Lonfranco De Seta feel that there was hope, that all was not lost.

The peacefulness of this botanical setting, and the charms of the pretty Maria

JAMES McCREATH

enabled the youth to once again ponder his future with some optimism. Finally,

about a fortnight after his arrival, the general called his houseguest into his

study to discuss that very future.

“I have taken the liberty of corresponding with the attorney back in

Livorno on your behalf. My instructions were for him to liquidate your family’s

assets and to send the proceeds to a new account that I have opened in your

name at the Banco Central. I hope that you have no objections, Lonfranco,

but there is nothing in Italy for you now, and your future truly lies here in

Argentina, with me.” The boy could say nothing, so he just nodded his head

affirmatively in silence. “I think that I did mention to you that I own a large

estancia in Pergamino, some two hundred miles from here. The operation has

over one thousand head of stock, and I am constantly in need of good men

that not only have knowledge of the animals, but are also trustworthy. I am

graced with a very good head gaucho, but he is old and has arthritis. He can’t

stay in the saddle the way he used to. This man would be an excellent teacher,

however, if you were to decide that you had an interest in that kind of life. And

what a life it is! Miles and miles of the finest land in Argentina. The gauchos

are great people, once you gain their confidence. They are brave and fearless

men, men who pride themselves in their uninhibited way of living.”

The general’s eyes seemed to glaze over as he reflected upon past adventures.

“In any event, I must make a journey up there in a few days. If you like, you

can accompany me and see what you think. It is to this estancia that I plan to

retire eventually, if the government can see its way clear to relieve me of all the

responsibilities it keeps piling on my shoulders. What do you say? Is it worth a

trip to the Pampas to see if that is where your future lies?”

“I would be honored to do anything in the General’s service! If that is

where you can use me, that is where I will serve.”

The smile on the boy’s face was the first one the general had observed

since that tragic Sunday.

“Good. And don’t worry, Maria and the others visit for the entire summer

season, so you won’t have to be lovesick for too long.”

Lonfranco could feel his face redden at the general’s last remark, but he

kept silent for fear of putting his foot in his mouth.

The general was an astute and observant man, and he obviously knew that

his daughter had stolen this young man’s heart. At least the infatuation that

Lonfranco felt was much easier to bear than the anxiety that filled that same

heart whenever he thought about his dearly departed family. He was ready for

this new adventure. Whatever the future had in store for him, he knew that

there was great opportunity to be had in the shadow of a man like General

Figueroa San Marco.

50

RENALDO

Four days later, the two men stood on the platform of Recoleta station, the

general in a dapper civilian outfit, with Lonfranco in a new blue blazer, cotton

trousers, crisp white shirt, and cravat.

General San Marco was fastidious about his appearance in public and

relished the occasions when protocol did not require him to be in uniform.

Lonfranco thought of him as a truly elegant and dashing man.

They would ride in the general’s private command coach, which had been

customized to his specifications. This innovative idea allowed the military to

use the general’s expertise in any theater of operations to which Argentina’s

rapidly growing rail network extended. The coach was equipped with the latest

in telegraphic and electronic devises, maps and cartographic tools, working

desks for aides, and a private office and bed chamber for the general.

It could only have been by coincidence that this day happened to be the

boy’s sixteenth birthday. He had told no one, for he did not feel it his place to

create a fuss over himself. The San Marco sisters were already calling him their

brother and were constantly gawking at his every move and mannerism. Señora

San Marco said that it was because they had never had a brother, and no other

male except their father had ever lived under the same roof.

Lonfranco was very fond of the sisters in return and would talk and

play with them at every opportunity. Despite this mutual fondness, he never

overstepped the boundaries of propriety, and made sure that he was discreetly

absent if private family matters became a topic of discussion.

So there would be no birthday party, but the young immigrant did not

care. It was the adventure that lay ahead of him that captivated his whole

being. That and the memory of sweet Maria’s good-bye kiss.

The travelers sat in San Marco’s office initially, aids serving beverages and

light snacks before a full luncheon was offered. The general, sitting behind

his desk in an overstuffed swivel chair, undid his tie and waistband. Then he

placed his spat-covered, black leather shoes upon the desk.

He began to describe the estancia in great detail, first the history of all the

buildings, and then the working mechanics of operating one hundred square

miles of land as a profitable business. Cattle, sheep, and crops were the staples

of economic stability, and he detailed each segment extensively. But it was the

thoroughbred horses that made his eyes light up when he talked. They were

obviously his pride and joy.

He spoke of the gauchos at great length, their robust spirit and free, open

lifestyle. It was not the same now as it had been years before, when the general

first fought in the Pampas as a young private. Agriculture, immigrant farmers,

and sheep herders had changed the face of the region. Cities and towns had

sprung up where only pulperias, or small villages, once stood. The gauchos

were forced to live under a different set of so-called civilized rules, on ever-

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