Breakfast in Coralio was at eleven. Therefore the people did not go to market early. The little wooden market-house stood on a patch of short-trimmed grass, under the vivid green of a bread-fruit tree.
one morning the venders , bringing their with them. A porch or platform six feet wide encircled the building, shaded from the mid-morning sun by the projecting, grass-thatched roof. Upon this platform the venders were to display their goods—newly-killed beef, fish, , fruit of the country, cassava, eggs, dulces and high, stacks of native tortillas as large around as the sombrero of a Spanish .
But on this morning they whose stations lay on the seaward side of the market-house, instead of spreading their merchandise formed themselves into a softly and gesticulating group. For there upon their space of the platform was , asleep, the unbeautiful figure of "Beelzebub" Blythe. He lay upon a strip of cocoa matting, more than ever a fallen angel in appearance. His suit of coarse flax, soiled, bursting at the seams, into a thousand wrinkles and , inclosed him absurdly, like the of some that had been stuffed in sport and thrown there after had been upon it. But firmly upon the high bridge of his nose his gold-rimmed glasses, the surviving badge of his ancient glory.
The sun's rays, reflecting quiveringly from the sea upon his face, and the voices of the market-men woke "Beelzebub" Blythe. He sat up, blinking, and leaned his back against the wall of the market. Drawing a silk handkerchief from his pocket, he assiduously rubbed and his glasses. And while doing this he became aware that his bedroom had been invaded, and that polite brown and yellow men were him to vacate in favour of their market stuff.
If the señor would have the goodness—a thousand pardons for bringing to him molestation—but soon would come the compradores for the day's provisions—surely they had ten thousand regrets at disturbing him!
In this manner they expanded to him the intimation that he must clear out and cease to the wheels of trade.
Blythe stepped from the platform with the air of a prince leaving his couch. He never quite lost that air, even at the lowest point of his fall. It is clear that the college of good breeding does not necessarily maintain a chair of morals within its walls.
Blythe shook out his clothing, and moved slowly up the Calle Grande through the hot sand. He moved without a destination in his mind. The little town was languidly stirring to its daily life. Golden-skinned babies tumbled over one another in the grass. The sea breeze brought him appetite, but nothing to satisfy it. Throughout Coralio were its morning odors—those from the heavily tropical flowers and from the bread baking in the outdoor ovens of clay and the smoke of their fires. Where the smoke cleared, the crystal air, with some of the efficacy of faith, seemed to remove the mountains almost to the sea, bringing them so near that one might count the scarred on their wooded sides. The light-footed Caribs were swiftly to their tasks at the waterside. Already along the bosky trails from the banana files of horses were slowly moving, , except for their nodding heads and legs, by the bunches of green-golden fruit heaped upon their backs. On doorsills sat women combing their long, black hair and calling, one to another, across the narrow thoroughfares. Peace in Coralio—arid and bald peace; but still peace.
On that bright morning when Nature seemed to be offering the lotus on the Dawn's golden platter "Beelzebub" Blythe had reached rock bottom. Further descent seemed impossible. That last night's in a public place had done for him. As long as he had had a roof to cover him there had remained, unbridged, the space that separates a gentleman from the beasts of the jungle and the of the air. But now he was little more than a whimpering led to be on the sands of a Southern sea by the artful , Circumstance, and the implacable carpenter, Fate.
To Blythe money was now but a memory. He had drained his friends of all that their good-fellowship had to offer; then he had squeezed them to the last drop of their ; and at the last, Aaron-like, he had the rock of their hardening for the , drops of Charity itself.
He had his credit to the last real. With the minute keenness of the shameless sponger he was aware of every source in Coralio from which a glass of rum, a meal or a piece of silver could be . Marshalling each such source in his mind, he considered it with all the thoroughness and that hunger and thirst lent him for the task. All his optimism failed to thresh a grain of hope from the of his postulations. He had played out the game. That one night in the open had shaken his nerves. Until then there had been left to him at least a few grounds upon which he could base his unblushing demands upon his neighbours' stores. Now he must beg instead of borrowing. The most could not by the name of "loan" the coin contemptuously flung to a beachcomber who slept on the bare boards of the public market.
But on this morning no beggar would have more thankfully received a charitable coin, for the thirst had him by the throat—the drunkard's matutinal thirst that requires to be at each morning station on the road to Tophet.
Blythe walked slowly up the street, keeping a eye for any miracle that might drop manna upon him in his . As he passed the popular eating house of Madama Vasquez, Madama's boarders were just sitting down to freshly-baked bread, aguacates, pines and delicious coffee that sent odorous guarantee of its quality upon the breeze. Madama was serving; she turned her shy, , gaze for a moment out the window; she saw Blythe, and her expression turned more shy and embarrassed. "Beelzebub" owed her twenty pesos. He bowed as he had once bowed to less embarrassed to whom he owed nothing, and passed on.
Merchants and their clerks were throwing open the solid wooden doors of their shops. Polite but cool were the glances they cast upon Blythe as he lounged tentatively by with the of his old air; for they were his almost without exception.
At the little fountain in the he made an apology for a toilet with his wetted handkerchief. Across the open square filed the line of friends of the prisoners in the calaboza, bearing the morning meal of the . The food in their hands aroused small in Blythe. It was drink that his soul , or money to buy it.
In the streets he met many with whom he had been friends and equals, and whose patience and liberality he had gradually exhausted. Willard Geddie and Paula cantered past him with the coolest of nods, returning from their daily horseback ride along the old Indian road. Keogh passed him at another corner, whistling cheerfully and bearing a prize of newly-laid eggs for the breakfast of himself and Clancy. The of Fortune was one of Blythe's victims who had his hand oftenest into his pocket to aid him. But now it seemed that Keogh, too, had himself against further invasions. His greeting and the light in his full, grey eye quickened the steps of "Beelzebub," whom desperation had almost to attempt an additional "loan."
Three drinking shops the forlorn one next visited in succession. In all of these his money, his credit and his welcome had long since been spent; but Blythe felt that he would have in the dust at the feet of an enemy that morning for one of aguardiente. In two of the pulperias his petition for drink was met with a refusal so polite that it stung worse than abuse. The third establishment had acquired something of American methods; and here he was seized bodily and cast out upon his hands and knees.
This physical indignity caused a singular change in the man. As he picked himself up and walked away, an expression of absolute relief came upon his features. The and conciliatory smile that had been graven there was succeeded by a look of calm and resolve. "Beelzebub" had been floundering in the sea of improbity, holding by a slender life-line to the respectable world that had cast him overboard. He must have felt that with this ultimate shock the line had snapped, and have experienced the welcome ease of the drowning swimmer who has ceased to struggle.
Blythe walked to the next corner and stood there while he brushed the sand from his garments and re-polish............