The Wanderess (8 page)

I admit that Dragomir had charmed me with his story of
Señorita Baena. Were it true that she was the only woman in
Barcelona worth loving, I would’ve been happy to give as well as
receive her presents.

Behind me I could hear a small roar. A roar?,
a snore
,
rather. It was Pulpawrecho. The servant who had been so lively
only moments before was now scrunched up on a bench in the far
end of the room. He now slept and snored loudly in an opium
daze.

“Why is he gnawing on his wrist like that?” I curled my lip
in alarm. Pulpawrecho was scrunched-up in the fetal position
devouring his own wrist the way a dog lying in a corner gnaws on
a bone or a piece of hide.

“Poor Pulpawrecho was taken from his mother’s breast too
soon, it seems. He used to suck his thumb when he first entered
my service. I found it unseemly for a servant of mine to suck his
thumb like a baby, so I disciplined him. He needed to suck
something though, so I let him chew his wrist while he sleeps.
Won’t you sit back down a minute? When are you leaving
Málaga?”

“Ha-ha, no please sit down… I am no clairvoyant. At least
not the ‘S.V. Dragomir, Clairvoyant’ people take me for. That is
only one of the hats I wear …and the one I am wearing now. You
see, I’ve worn a lot of hats over the years… Heaven’s, you are all
flushed! Please have some water… Okay, you look better now.
Do you know how old I am? I’ll be forty-two in a few days. Yet
I’ve worked in many trades, I’ve lived many lives. I’ve been an
actor, a magician, a
contrabandista
, a pawnbroker, a hired
sharpshooter, a priest, a gambler… I even tended bar and worked
as a fry cook. Yes,
a fry cook!
, if you can believe that. I’ve been to
jail a few times, but I was born an honest child like we all are. The
road shakes you up. You know the road, Saul. You’ve traveled
your fair share. I like you and you interest me, this is why I am
telling you this. That I am a charlatan and not a clairvoyant, that
is no harm to my ego. I pay dear little Pulpawrecho who is
sleeping over there an honest wage for all the services he offers
me, and I live as I please. I had a large shipment of Turkish opium
arrive in Gibraltar two weeks ago, and that is why I am able to
help you with the stash you have in your pocket. Your meeting
miss Baena will be of personal use to me. People are around to
help other people in this world. Do you believe that? I really will
pray for you, Saul, once our ways part. As I said:
You do interest
me.
”

I wanted to leave, I was dizzy. But curious about one
thing, I asked, “This story you and your servant told about how
you met, I know that he was following this poor girl in the street.
She looked ‘baffled’ as he put it. And once he saw her leaving
through the courtyard, she looked, he put it… ‘even more baffled’
than before. It was no doubt because of something you told her
that she looked even more baffled than when she had arrived.
You read her fortune, of course…
so what exactly was the ‘bonne
aventure’ that you told her?”

“Oh, I
did
read her fortune—or rather I
guessed
at her
fortune. But it was because she sought me out for that and paid
me.”

“Sought you ought? How? Your servant said she was
running through the street and stopped in front of the sign stating
your profession, and she kissed her hands. She must have been
hoping for answers in life, and she stumbled on your house by
chance.”

“Certainly not. A lot of people come to me from the port.
My services are advertised down at the port where the boats come
in and directions are given to where I can be found. Wherever
one finds a port city, one finds travelers coming from abroad from
somewhere or another by sea, and everyone who is traveling from
abroad by sea seeks two things: to first find land, and then to find
their fortune. She was no exception. Once she gained land, she
wanted then to gain her fortune. She came to me and I saw her
vulnerable state and her young age and thought to refuse her a
consultation. But she offered to pay me and even insisted on it,
emptying her little purse of five gold
pistoles
. I’m not one to
refuse five gold pistoles! This is a hard world for one with money
in his pocket. For one without, it is impossible!”

“Yes, yes,” I was impatient with my desire to know why she
had left this man in such bafflement, running through the streets
as she did, “So she paid you and was obviously was in need of
some information. So tell me then, what was the information you
gave her?”

“I could give a damn. I’ll just leave…” I again gathered my
travelling satchels and then made to stand, “I was just curious to
put the pieces together, you must have told her an interesting
fortune. You must have been able to read her life.”

“Read her life? Eh, no, actually I simply
guessed a few
things…
a few things correctly. And when a complete stranger
guesses correctly your life, you are ready to believe anything they
tell you. It is strange how that works—or not really strange,
actually. First, I simply made some obvious guesses based on her
accent and physical features; then I took a leap and told her that
her first name meant something like:
‘clear, bright, and celebrated.’
I didn’t know her name, of course, but she was stunned when I
said this. She told me I was right, that her name meant exactly
that:
‘clear, bright, and celebrated’
—a lucky shot in the dark!, I
admit it. Although there are good odds in guessing names since
most girl’s first names tend to revolve around words such as

blessed
,
beautiful
, or else
clear
,
bright
, and
celebrated
. These
qualities seem to be an obsession among those about to give birth.
I was just lucky, I chose from those five words and happened to
pick the right three. Yet I won her over completely after another
guess that was a safe-bet after looking at her fingertips. All this
was after she’d paid me; and of course having made a few such
lucky guesses, she was now ready to believe whatever nonsense I
told her. So I had a little fun with her, told her this and that. I
told her where she needed to go and what she needed to do to,
quote, ‘realize her destiny,’ unquote. I made a few more guesses
and played with her mind a little…”

“You played with her mind?” I asked, “…played with a very
young girl who was travelling alone? I would have taken you for a
man of honor. You’ll do what you will, I just hope you didn’t tell
her anything that made her leap off a precipice.”

“A precipice? Why? I am not a
mean
person, Saul. I’m a
charlatan, yes, but I am not
mean
. Don’t worry about the poor
little girl. She was already running very quickly, I just gave her a
little direction in life. I gave her a kind of roadmap, if you will,
which she is now still probably following. We are very susceptible
at that age. Is that all?”

“It is all very interesting. The only thing I still wonder
about is your servant. He wanted to be your servant so as to find
out where this little girl ran off to. Did you ever explain to him
the ‘roadmap’ you gave her?”

“What for? To see him run off on her trail? To
lose the
perfect servant?!
I told you, Pulpawrecho is the perfect servant! I
wouldn’t risk losing him by telling him where to run off to...”

“Of course!,” Dragomir said, “I can’t risk losing you
either! No, I couldn’t do that!” He doubled his laugh with a roar
that I joined in on out of nervousness. We both quieted our
laughter. “Anyway, it’s too late, I see you’re already going. You’re
already standing by the door. Anyway, that nonsense with the
little girl was a long time ago. Three years have passed since
then.”
With these words, the fatigue and opium overtook me and

I soon found myself out in the street, walking up the desolate
stone lane, making my way more or less in circles as I hoped to
stumble on the road that led to the port. “How do I get to the
port?” I wondered aloud, mumbling to myself in the darkness.

“You just have to walk to the end of this street. Then cross
the bridge, and you’re there…” This response had come from a
figure who had appeared suddenly in the street.

“…Just go to the end of the street, cross the bridge, and go
straight and you’ll reach the port,” he repeated. And it was then I
recognized the long pointy face of Dragomir who stood staring at
me in the dark road. In haste, I clutched my satchels and hurried
away from him. I hurried across the empty bridge, and paced
quickly towards the black waters of the ocean that lay before me.

“Perhaps I am boring you,” Saul said to me, bringing me back
from his tale, “There is so much to tell, I don’t want to leave out
details that will enlighten you to the mystery of this story.”

“Boring me? Heavens no!” I picked up the bell that was
on our table and shook it to make it ring. That was to signal to
the waiter that we wanted something, and that he had permission
to enter our private dining-room. Both Saul and I agreed that our
empty bottle of cognac had been too small. We told the waiter to
bring more liqueurs, a larger bottle of cognac, and enough candles
to last until morning. When these arrived, the waiter left for
good.

“Boring me?—a ridiculous idea! I could stay awake for a
week listening to your story, I’ve written down all you said so far.
Please do go on, I am looking forward to hearing about Saskia.”

“She will come soon, fortunately. She is the hero of this
story. This cognac is very good. The candles are fresh and tall.
The room is warm. I’ll go on with my story….”

The ship horns were calling in the port of Málaga the next
morning, waking me earlier than was decent. From the window
of the pension where I’d spent the night I could see the stream of
passengers getting thinner as all were now aboard and waiting to
leave the harbor. I gathered my two valises and went downstairs
to the dining hall.

I had left nothing remaining behind me in the
room, my valises were by my side, and it was during my breakfast
in the dining hall that I discovered the first unpleasant event of
my European odyssey: my gold watch was missing! That Breguet
watch was the last sentimental treasure I owned. I remembered
I’d had it the night before at Dragomir’s. I was so scattered in my
brain after leaving his home, perhaps I lost it
en route
to the hotel.
Nothing to be done though, I had to leave Andalusia seeing as I
was already late to get on the road to Madrid.

Andalusia is riddled with gypsies of all ages and tricks, and
as I was leaving this beautiful country, I came across an old
gitana
¹
with thick skin like leather and knotty black hair outside the
station where travelers were filing past. “Hola guapo,” she
slithered up to me, “Give me your hand! Oh, ho! There are two
pretty girls in your life… I will tell you all, etc., etc….” As I was in a
rush to leave, and wanted to keep my hand away from this servant
of the devil, I withdrew it firmly. Though being superstitious, I
felt in my pocket for some silver
piastres
and gave a largess to the
old fortuneteller. I knew these gypsies were capable of snatching
a soul the way a juggler snatches a scarf, and I wanted to keep my
soul for myself. Appeasing the old woman with money, I passed
unhindered and felt safe, body and soul, for my journey to follow.

I arrived in Madrid early in the morning and went straight
to the address that was given in the letter I received in Alexandria.
There I would find my friend and old business partner, Juhani,
who was a banker in Madrid, an entrepreneur, and an oil-painter
of much talent. He and I worked together in Malta organizing
parties until I had to flee the country, first returning to Tripoli and
then fleeing there to live in Egypt. I lived in poverty in Egypt until
I received Juhani’s letter announcing that he too had left Malta
and was living in Spain, and that he had saved my share of the
profits from our last party in Malta. He announced that he’d
saved ten-thousand scudi for me from our last event, which was
an incredible fortune for an impoverished adventurer such as
myself to fall upon. That letter found me in a miserable situation;
it announced my fortune and made me rich. I set off for Europe
immediately when I received it.