from Three Plays of the Argentine
translated from the Spanish by Jacob S. Fassett
New York, Duffield and Company, 1920

Juan Moreira

A National Drama of Life on the Pampas
In Two Acts and Six Scenes

by Silverio Manco

PERSONS OF THE DRAMA

JUAN MOREIRA, an humble gaucho
VICENTA, his wife
JTJANCITO, their son
TATA VIEJO, an elderly gaucho
DON FRANCISCO, Alcalde of Lobos1
JULIAN ANDRADE, Moreira's friend
SARDETI, a miserly and lying pulpero*
A SERGEANT OF THE CONSTABULARY
GAUCHOS, GUITAR PLAYERS, AND CONSTABLES

TITLES OF THE SCENES

ACT ONE
SCENE ONE: Injustice! SCENE Two: Alone!
SCENE THREE: In the Stocks

ACT TWO

SCENE FOUR: Fatality! SCENE FIVE: Dishonored!
SCENE Six: Conquered!

1 Alcalde is a local magistrate corresponding somewhat to justice of the peace.
2 Pulpero: a sort of grocer.

p.3

JUAN MOREIRA

ACT ONE

SCENE ONE

A hut with a door and a window in the background. On the right a table upon which is a candle stuck into the neck of a bottle. On the left, a cot. In the center, hugging the fire, are VICENTA and TATA VIEJO. JUANCITO is asleep on the cot. It is night.

TATA VIEJO. It's useless, my child; when everything is against you and misfortune tosses you against the wall on your back it leaves you flatter than a pancake.
VICENTA. Yes, Tata; when I married Juan I thought that all my troubles were at an end, and that there would be nothing but joy and happiness left. But it wasn't so. [Weeps.
TATA VIEJO. The miserable law hounds Juan because they think he's a murderer. [Weeps} Bah! I wish I were twenty years younger-I'd give that scoundrel Don Francisco a good whipping. Poor Juan! Just on account of that good-for-nothing he must hide out on the pampas with never a chance to kiss his wife or hug his boy, or even to embrace this poor old man who is dying of sorrow at the very thought of him. Curse the law for treating the gauchos of the Argentine so miserably I
VICENTA. Don't remind me of those things, Tata, for they hurt me terribly. I'm afraid I'll go mad with despair. Every time Don Francisco's face comes to my mind it seems as if I

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saw my poor Juan with his head in the stocks. Why couldn't I have died at birth instead of suffering all this unhappiness?
TATA VIEJO. Very well, my child; call Juancito and tell him to give us some bitters to sweeten our sorrow.
VICENTA. Tata, I'm sure the police will kill my Juan and that I'll never see him again.
TATA VIEJO. Very well, I say. . . . Call the boy. Juan isn't so ungrateful. He'll try to give the police the slip, and look in on the people the law made him desert in order to save his life. Call the boy, my child.
VICENTA. [Rises and wakes the child] Juancito! Juancito!
JUANCITO. [Sitting up] Mamita!
VICENTA. Get up! You've already slept too long.
TATA VIEJO. Yes, little puppy; get up and make Tata Viejo some mate.1
JUANCITO. [Getting down from the cot] Where is my papito?
VICENTA. Your papito? My poor boy! Your papito has gone, and nobody knows if he'll ever come back.
TATA VIEJO. Come here, little puppy; give me a hug and kiss, and then go to the window and ask the murmuring pampero 2 to carry them both to your papito.
JUANCITO. But where is Papito?
TATA VIEJO. Poor little puppy! Come, get me the mat6 and then I'll tell you.
JUANCITO. No, tell me now.
VICENTA. Don't be stubborn, son. Do what you're told.
JUANCITO. All right, I'll do it. [He starts to prepare the mate.
TATA VIEJO. My heart aches so I can hardly stand it. I don't know why, but it seems to tell me that Juan is coming, and . . . who knows but what he is?
VICENTA. I don't think it's possible, Tata. Besides, he

1 Mate: the Argentine substitute for tea. 8 Pampero: the wind on tbe pampas.

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would have sent somebody to let us know that he was coming to this unhappy place.
TATA VIEJO. How you talk! Perhaps he wanted to surprise us, and so sent no messenger.
VICENTA. Hark! I hear a galloping horse. I wonder if it's he?
TATA VIEJO. Happy little puppy-here comes your papito!
DON FRANCISCO. [Outside] Since you have had the temerity to scorn me, Vicenta, I'll see to it that that little gaucho of yours comes to grief. You shall stay in seclusion with neither his love nor mine, and when he steps out to meet my men all his reputation as a brave man will be as nothing to my power for revenge.
VICENTA. He! The traitor! The murderer!
JUANCITO. Mamita! Mamita!
TATA VIEJO. And still he comes to mock you; the dog!
DON FRANCISCO. All his galloping about is useless. He can't escape me, for I have stretched the rope for him, and he's bound to get tangled up in it. I sha'n't stop until he is in my power. I'm going to catch him, and then he'll pay with his body for the way you have insulted me. After that . . . you shall be mine!
VICENTA. Tata!
JUANCITO! Mamita!
TATA VIEJO. What does this mean?
VICENTA. Tata, I am dying of sorrow. [Swoons in his arms.
TATA VIEJO. Vicenta, my poor child The scoundrel is already avenged.
DON FRANCISCO. [Entering furiously with four soldiers] Hush, you old mule; if you keep on braying like that you'll find yourself in the stocks alongside of Juan Moreira.
JUANCITO. Please don't hurt them!
TATA VIEJO. All this bluster won't help you a bit. You'll pay with your head for all the harm you've done. Come

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on, then, coward! So you tremble before an old man? It would disgust me to kill you, that's why I don't do it. But you'll carry something to remember me by. [He attacks DON FRANCISCO. The soldiers seize and hold TATA VIEJO
TATA VIEJO [Struggling] Leave this house, cowards! . . . Dogs! Would you harm an old man? . . .

Rapid Curtain

SCENE TWO

Open country. Trees in the distance. In the center a large ombu with abundant foliage, beneath which, recumbent upon a saddle, is JUAN MOREIRA. He is deep in thought.

MOREIRA. Curse the luck! Ah, Don Francisco, Don Francisco! It's useless for you to hound me this way. You'll have a hard time of it if you think you are going to catch me. ' Your plans are bound to fail, and you'll be throttled by your own vengeance. Vicenta is too strong ever to give herself into your arms, for your love disgusts her and your person inspires her with a mortal hatred. As for you, you dog. the cause of all my misfortune, it won't be long before you'll find yourself spitted on my dirk. It's through you that I have had to leave my son and Vicenta and dear Tata Viejo who used to give me so much good advice. Bah! A gaucho who is born honest must always be so. The curse of fate is always with me; the wind of misfortune tosses my black locks; the breeze of ill luck whines past me in a fury, leaving contempt and curses in its wake. Still, I must ride the pampas on my good nag and finish like a man what is in my heart. Vengeance lights my way, and I must drink deep of it in order to accomplish mine as I long to ... hand to hand and face

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to face with my enemy. Alone! Alone! Without even a friend! The neighing of my horse is the only consolation I have in my sorrow. Out on the pampas I awake at dawn flat on my belly over my saddle, and watch the morning come with all its little noises and the glad awakening of those who are happy and live quietly by the warmth of their firesides. While I, a poor gaucho, buffeted by fate and hunted by the police, am like a tree, leafless in the luxuriant springtime of b'fe, and lashed by passing winds that leave upon its brow the evil mark whose curse is sculptured there as the sign of a murderer. Yes! The law pursues me merely because it happens to wish to, and if tomorrow I should become a real criminal disgusted with this wretched existence, the law alone would be to blame. For it was the law that drove me to this road where only sadness, deception, bitterness, and grief are found. Don Francisco! Don Francisco! [JFeeps] Eh? I hear a horse coming this way. {Gets up in surprise. Enter JULIAN ANDRADE on his horse, lie dismounts and approaches JUAN
ANDRADE. Excuse me, friend, and don't be alarmed. I am no spy nor policeman, or anything of the sort. I am a poor, honest gaucho whose only fortune is a stout heart. The playful breeze that rustles over the pampas brought to my ear the whisper of a great grief, of a deep sorrow. It told me in its mysterious language, in accents of sorrowful passion, of the sad misfortune of a humble and hard-working gaucho. I could see that you were thoughtful and sad, and suddenly I remembered Juan Moreira. Aren't you Juan Moreira?
MOREIRA. Yes, my friend, I am Juan Moreira. I am that humble and hard-working gaucho. And here I am, in the midst of this great plain, this bit of beautiful pampa, the cradle of my most sacred memories. I am a fugitive from justice and dodging the footsteps of the constabulary.
ANDBADE. The plague take the law! Because of it one has

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to fly about like a lost dove. Nowadays the police frown upon a gaucho because they think he's a murderer.
MOREIRA. You are right, my friend. The confounded law perverts us and forces us toward the brink of the abyss, with never a thought to our finer feelings.
ANDRADE. Your bitterness moves me. From now on you may count upon me as a friend who is as ready as the stroke of an axe and stronger than tala wood.
MOREIRA. Many thanks, good friend. I accept the privilege because I see that you are honest and stout of heart.
ANDRADE. Julian Andrade offers himself to you as a brother. Come, Moreira, it deserves an embrace. [They embrace.
MOREIRA. The pampas sleep quietly, and everything is hushed. Probably the damned police are preparing a trap.
ANDRADE. We'll have to fight them until we either win or die; and we must have the courage to withstand. We'll saddle our horses that are pawing the ground over there and get ready like two brave horsemen.
MOREIRA. I must mount and ride like the devil. They must be waiting anxiously for me at the Alcalde's.
ANDRADE. [In surprise] At the Alcalde's?
MOREIRA. Yes; Sardeti will be missing me.
ANDRADE. Sardeti?
MOHEIRA. He's my enemy. I've brought suit against him to recover some money that he has owed me for a long time, for if I don't get it I'll never be able to live in peace.
ANDRADE. The horses are whinnying, Moreira. Good-by, good friend Juan, and good luck to you.
MOREIRA. We'll meet again, comrade.
ANDRADE. I leave you my heart.
[He throws himself on his horse and rid,es off.
MOREIRA. Until we meet again, my friend. [Looks about him] Alone... with my bad luck and fatal misfortune! I wish I were dead, Even the grave attracts me, Tata ViejoJ
Vicenta! My dear little puppy! How I suffer!... How unhappy I am! O breeze that rustles so sweetly over the pampas, go tell my people that I send them my heart. And then, with all your brave cunning whisper to that traitor that the avenging of my sorrows will be all the more terrible for this.
[Lifting his hands to his face, he fatts prostrate.

Rapid Curtain

SCENE THREE

The office of the village ALCALDE. On the right, the stocks1 On the left, down stage, a table with writing materials. Further up stage, several chairs in a row. A door in the background. DON FRANCISCO is seated at the table, writing. Two CONSTABLES guard the door.

DON FRANCISCO. Very good. Let us see if that vile gaucho's accusation against Sardeti is true. I pity him if his testimony proves to be false. . Tears and supplications will |. avail hiih nothing. To the stocks with him, and that's the end of it. What does he think? Now I'll be able to avenge myself for the insult he gave me by robbing me of my Vicenta's love. I shall take pleastire in revenge! It will be a source of real satisfaction to be able to take revenge on this vile and |. quarrelsome gaucho who struts about here and puts on more g, airs than a fighting-cock. [Consults his watch] They ought to be r, bere soon. Yet, if I'm not mistaken, he may not show up. '\ I haven't much faith in the fellow. Sardeti is a friend of mine, oo I don't think he will miss such an important meeting. [Some one knocks. To the constables] See who it is. A CONSTABLE. [Looking out] It's Sardeti. DON FRANCISCO. Let him in.

1 These are the standing stocks, like a whipping-post.

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Enter SARDETI, who speaks with an Italian accent
SARDETI. Eef you please. Hello, Don Francisco.
DON FRANCISCO. Hello, my friend. How goes it? Take a seat.
SARDETI. [Seating himself] We are half mad.
DON FRANCISCO. Why? Tell me.
SARDETI. Why? Why is it that they have sent for me?
DON FRANCISCO. I sent for you because the gauche they call Juan Moreira has presented himself here with a claim against you for a certain sum that he says you owe him.
SARDETI [Excitedly] That is a lie, Signor Alcalde. I owe to this man a sum of moneys? No, no! That is a lie, and I tell you so again.
DON FRANCISCO. Then it isn't true that you owe Juan Moreira ten thousand pesos?
SARDETI. Not one peso I owe to him!
DON FRANCISCO. [Shrugging] But, my friend, did you ever see such a shameless fellow? To come and laugh in one's face. That can't be done! As soon as the insolent wretch comes in we'll stick his head in the stocks without more ado. Friend Sardeti, I have wanted to get rid of this fellow for a long time. He has offended me unpardonably, and has left a tremendous wound in my heart. But I shall be avenged! [A knock is heard at the door. To the constables] See who it is.
A CONSTABLE. [Looking out] It's Moreira.
DON FRANCISCO. Let him in.

Enter MOREIRA

MOREIRA. [With dignity] A very good day to you all.
DON FRANCISCO. [Smoothly] Sit down, friend Moreira, and tell me straight why you came to tell such a big lie in respect to the suit you have brought against Sardeti.
MOREIRA. Lie nothing, Don Francisco! Everything I said was the absolute truth; and besides, I don't think an honest gaucho like me would lie.
DON FRANCISCO. My friend Sardeti here tells me that he owes you nothing, and that he was consequently very much put out by having to come here on your account. MOREIRA. He says he doesn't owe me anything? SARDETI. Not one peso!
MOREIRA. [To SARDETI] Ah, scoundrel! So you refuse me the ten thousand pesos I loaned you? We'll face this out later if my luck doesn't kill me. Is this what justice is made of? Curse the justice that harbors murderers and thieves!
DON FRANCISCO. [To SAUDETI] Very good, my friend; you
may go. [To MOREIRA] As for you- [To the constables] Here,
you! To the stocks with this man, and give him fifty lashes.
[MOREIRA, struggling desperately, is placed in the stocks,
and is whipped. SARDETI whispers something in the
ALCALDE'S ear and then departs,
MOREIRA. [Writhing with pain] Ah! Sardeti, Sardeti! You'll pay your debt in your own blood!
DON FRANCISCO. Suck on that for the present. This is
the way we shall fix you so you won't tell any more lies about
persons more respectable than yourself. You may go now,
and if you have any hankering after more, you may return.
[MOREIRA is removed from the stocks and prepares to
take his departure.
MOREIRA. [As he draws his shirt over his bleeding back] You'll pay me for this, Don Francisco, and that soon. We shall meet . . . hand to hand and face to face!

Rapid Curtain

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ACT TWO

SCENE FOUR

SARDETI'S pulperia1 Severed GUITAR PLATERS strum their instruments. SARDETI is behind ike counter, quietly smoking.
SARDETI. Let's see, my friend, if you can sing the good song.
GUITAR PLAYER. If my first string doesn't break-
SARDETI. How can it break? When you make vibrate the string it is as though the lark of the pampas were singing.
GUITAR PLAYER. I'd hardly say that, Sardeti.
SARDETI. Very good. Please to sing me the pretty verse.
GUITAR PLAYER. All right-as long as you put it that way, I'll give you the pleasure of hearing me, comrade.
SARDETI. Do not wait no more, comrade, for I have a wish to hear the lark.
GUITAR PLAYER. Good! Listen-[Sings]
Good gentlemen, I pray give ear, And harken to this sad lament Which from a heart with sorrow spent, Arises wet with many a tear. I dedicate it to all here. This song is born in sorrow and pain, With never a thought of honor to gain. I breathe it to the sound of strings. A novice, I, and one who sings For love of song, to entertain.

1 Pulperfa: a small country grocery store of the pampas.

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SARDETI. That is the lovely melody. Bring on the mazainorra.1
GUITAR PLAYER. A gaucho of the Argentine, A native of this pampas land, Belgrano saw me, sword in hand, Defend her from a foe unclean. But since that time I've never seen A happy day or happy hour. A cruel fate has made me cower. In black despair and bitter grief: A gaucho treated like a thief, I languish in fate's awful power.
SARDETI. That is the kind of a song I like. Help yourself to the gin.
GUITAR PLAYER, I'll toast you without more ado. My throat is dry and my mouth is watering. [He drinks.
SARDETI. As you wish, singer . . . you are wonderful. GUITAR PLAYER. Good! . . . Listen: [Sings]
I roam the pampas on my steed, And seek for hospitality. And where I go my hand you see Held out for food to meet my need. At festivals I oft proceed To sing of love and love's sweet story. And so, my friends, I sit before ye And crave forgiveness for my lay. No singer, I, but let me say If you don't like it ... well, I'm sorry! SARDETI. You have sung like the nightingale, my friend; winning many flowers h'ke a good creole.
GUITAR PLAYER. Many thanks, comrade. I'm much obliged for your flowers, and I return the compliment. Enter suddenly JULIAN ANDRADE and JUAN MOREIHA

1 Mazamorra: a sort of porridge.

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ANDRADE. Canejo! Your wail has given me a great deal of pleasure. I congratulate you, my friend, with all my heart.
MOREIRA. Comrade, I also congratulate you as an honest Creole. Bring on the drinks; I'm dying for one. Give us one, ,1 pulpero. [SARDETI serves them, trembling with fear.
GUITAR PLAYER. As a cursed outcast, I thank you for ;| your words. I offer you a stout and devoted heart.
[They all drink. 3
MOREIRA. [Drawing his knife] And now, excuse me, gentlemen, if I disturb this gathering. This man [indicating SARDETI] owes me a debt. Defend yourself, thief, and don't stand there cowering with fear! I'm going to cut out your entrails for a thief and a swindler.
ANDRADE. Say no more to him, comrade; I'll watch him from behind. Finish this pulpero so he can't do any more
meddling.
SARDETI. [Preparing to fight] We'll do our possible. No one is born a fighter. But it is just possible, amico Moreira, that the cow may turn out to be the bull.
[They fight while the onlookers watch them anxiously.
MOREIRA. It's no use jumping about like that, my doddering old fool. Stop this one, Sardeti, it's going straight for
your skin.
SARDETI. Cover yourself . . . recommend your soul to the Holy Mother, Moreira. [Stabs him]
MOREIRA, Ahijuna! You've stabbed me, you really have! Now I swear I'll cut out your entrails! [Stabs him and SARDETI
falls.
SARDETI. Farewell . . . you have killed me! I have no
hope!
ANDRADE. Have you collected your debt, Moreira, my friend? MOREIRA. I have reaped my revenge!

Rapid Curtain

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SCENE FIVE

Same as Act One. TATA VIEJO and JUANCITO are drinking mati. It is night.

JUANCITO. Where is Marnita, Tata? Why doesn't she come and take mat6 with us?
TATA VIEJO. I can't tell you exactly where she is, my son, for she went out without letting me know.
JUANCITO. I asked you so I could call her in case that man who struck you the other day should come again.
TATA VIEJO. Poor little puppy! If you saw me in danger, would you defend me?
JUANCITO. Indeed I would! That's what that little knife Papito gave me is for. [Weeps] Poor Papito! I wonder where be is tonight.
TATA VIEJO. Hush, my boy . . . you tear my heart.
JUANCITO. My poor papito! [Pause] But why doesn't. Mamita come?
TATA VIEJO. Ah, puppy! While your father is probably fighting some one, or exposing his body to bullets, your mother is whispering in some old hag's ear about some medicines.
JUANCITO. Mamita used to cry a lot when Papito was away. ... But now she doesn't seem to be so sorry.
TATA VIEJO. That's because one forgets as time goes on. Ah! Don Francisco, Don Francisco! It is his fault that your father had to flee for his life, like a dove without a nest, and suffering a thousand wants.
Enter JUAN MOREIRA. He is in a towering rage
MOREIRA. Vengeance has escaped me! The miserable scoundrels! Tata! Puppy! [They embrace.
TATA VIEJO. My son!

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JUANCITO. Papito!
TATA VIEJO. There is blood on your hands! What have you done, Juan?
MOREIRA. Killed a swindler, lawfully, as one should kill a man . . . hand to hand and face to face. TATA VIEJO. You killed-?
MOREIRA. Sardeti, the pulpero. But I have yet another to kill to make my vengeance complete.
TATA VIEJO. What are you saying? Still more killing?
MOREIRA. Dou Francisco, the Alcalde of Lobos ... for not treating me with justice. But where is Vicenta?
Enter VICENTA in great agitation. In a panic of guilt she throws herself upon her knees
VICENTA. Forgive me, my dear Juan! I thought you were dead!
MOREIRA. [Starling back] So! You have deceived me, canatta?
VICENTA. [Pleadingly] No, my Juan! MOREIRA. [Menacingly] How about the man who just left you?
VICENTA. My God! [Swoons]
MOREIRA. Remorse will be good for you. Farewell, Tata Viejo! Farewell, dear little puppy mine! The police are on my trail and will be here before long.
TATA VIEJO. My son! [embracing Juan]
JUANCITO. Papito!
MOREIRA. [Putting them away from him] No! I must go and fight the police until I conquer or die. Farewell, dear family. [Throws them a kiss and departs]
TATA VIEJO. Puppy . . . come to my arms! [JUANCITO embraces him] Let us weep for your father, shamefully dishonored by her, your mother.
Enter a SERGEANT and four CONSTABLES SERGEANT. Juan Moreira!
TATA VIEJO. [Stepping back] Eh?
SERGEANT. [Looking around] He must be hiding here. If he doesn't come out of his own free will, we'll have to drag him out.
TATA VIEJO. Please!
SERGEANT. It's no use. Tie this old man up and see to it that you leave marks on his skin.
The CONSTABLES seize TATA VIEJO.
JUANCITO. [Throws himself on the prostrate body of his mother] Mamita!
TATA VIEJO. Savages! Scoundrels! Don't treat me like this. Draw your swords and let me die fighting!
[The SERGEANT raises his sivord. TATA VIEJO frees himself and grapples with him a moment and then falls.

Rapid Curtain

LAST SCENE

A courtyard. On the right, the entrances to two houses. On tlie left, up stage, a well. Along the background stretches a very low watt of adobe above which one catches a glimpse of an immense plain. Enter the SERGEANT and four CONSTABLES.

SERGEANT. Keep a sharp lookout, boys, and don't slip! Moreira must have fallen into the river; he'll never show up around these parts any more.
CONSTABLE. Sergeant!
SERGEANT. What is it, Chirino?
CONSTABLE. That door is open. Moreira might be in there.

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SERGEANT. In that case, to arms!
[They enter the open doorway and drag forth ANDRADE, bound hand and foot.
CONSTABLE. We've done well!
SERGEANT. Not so much! This is Julian Andrade, another wild gaucho and a very good friend of Juan Moreira's. He's probably in this other house. Take this fellow away.
[The CONSTABLES remove ANDRADE and then return.
CONSTABLE. Shall I knock, Sergeant?
SERGEANT. Knock, and then be ready for the attack. [The CONSTABLE knocks. MOREIRA from within asks who it is] Open in the name of the law, friend Moreira!
MOREIRA. [From within] Damn these Creoles! If you come to arrest me, you won't have to die of longing.
lie dashes suddenly out, fires a few shots, and goes back again.
SERGEANT. You'd better surrender, friend Moreira. It's no use hiding in there.
MOREIRA. [Re-enters, carrying VICENTA in his arms. He throws her at the SERGEANT'S feet] Here's something to amuse yourselves with! [Another shot, and he rushes back into the house]
VICENTA. [On her knees to the CONSTABLES] Forgive me ... please ... I am a miserable woman!
CONSTABLE. [Warning her away] Be off quickly, Senora; they may burn you if you don't. [VICENTA runs off.
SERGEANT. Again I tell you to stop fighting and surrender, my friend. [MOREIRA returns and fires again.
MOREIRA. Take that, you thieves! [They all discharge their weapons. The CONSTABLES, trembling with fear, take refuge behind the well] The storm is over, the clouds have rolled away. Now's the time to cheat the cheaters. May God show me the way. . . '. Look! Here is a wrall with which I can save myself-my only hope. [Starts toward the wall as if to jump over it] As soon as I am free of the constables I'll make for the open

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country. [A CONSTABLE, rising suddenly behind him, stabs him in the back] Ah-h! Farewell, sweet hope. They've killed me! [Without turning, he fires a shot that wounds his murderer in the eye and hand] Ah! ... Coward! . . . Traitor! ... It is unjust! Juan Moreira is conquered... conquered ... but by treachery! [He and the CONSTABLE both sink lifeless to the ground]

Rapid Curtain