Of Love and Other Demons by Gabriel García Márquez, Edith Grossman Page A

and knocked over the railings in the stablesand the fences around the corrals. The bees flew away, and the animals, bellowing with panic, stampeded as far as the cloistered sleeping quarters.
    From then on, nothing occurred that was not attributed to the pernicious influence of Sierva María. Several novices declared in the acta that she flew on transparent wings that emitted a strange humming. Two days and a squadron of slaves were neededto round up the livestock and shepherd the bees back to their honeycombs and put the house in order. Rumors circulated to the effect that the pigs had been poisoned, that the water induced prophetic visions, that one of the frightened hens flew abovethe rooftops and out to sea, disappearing over the horizon. But the terrors of the Clarissans were inconsistent, for despite the emotional displaysof the Abbess and the dread that each of them felt, Sierva María’s cell became the focus of everyone’s curiosity.
    Curfew in the cloister was in effect from the singing of Vespers at seven in the evening until the hour of Prime and six-o’clock Mass. All lights were extinguished except for those in a few authorized cells. Yet never before had life in the convent been so agitated and free. Therewas a traffic of shadows along the corridors, of intermittent whispers and haste held in check. They gambled in the most unexpected cells, either with Spanish decks of cards or weighted dice and drank furtive liquors and smoked the tobacco rolled in secret ever since Josefa Miranda had forbidden it in the cloister. The presence inside the convent walls of a girl possessed by demons had all the excitementof an extraordinary adventure.
    Even the most rigid nuns slipped out of the cloister after curfew and went in groups of two or three to talk to Sierva María. She greeted them with her nails but soon learned to deal with them according to each one’s personality and each night’s mood. A frequent request was that she serve as their intermediary with the devil to ask for impossible favors. SiervaMaría would imitate voices from beyond the grave, voices of those who had been decapitated, voices of the spawn of Satan, and many believed her sly deceptions and attested to their truth in the acta. A band of nuns in disguise attacked the cell one evil night, gagged Sierva María and stripped her of the sacred necklaces. It was an ephemeral victory. As they hurried away, the commander of the raidingpartystumbled and fell on the dark stairs and fractured her skull. Her companions did not have a moment’s peace until they returned the stolen necklaces to their owner. No one disturbed the nights in her cell again.
    For the Marquis de Casalduero, these were days of mourning. It had taken him longer to confine the girl than to repent of his action and he suffered an attack of melancholy fromwhich he never recovered. He spent several hours prowling around the convent, wondering at which of the countless windows Sierva María was thinking of him. When he returned home, he saw Bernarda in the courtyard enjoying the cool air of early evening. He was shaken by a premonition that she would ask about Sierva María, but she did not even look at him.
    He let the mastiffs out of their cagesand lay down in the hammock in his bedroom, hoping to sleep forever. But he could not. The trade winds had passed, and the night was burning. The swamps sent out all kinds of insects dazed by the sweltering heat, along with clouds of carnivorous mosquitoes, and it was necessary to burn cattle dung in the bedrooms to drive them away. Souls sank into lethargy. This was the time of year when the firstrainstorm was hoped for with as much longing as that with which perpetual clear weather would be prayed for six months later.
    At daybreak the Marquis went to Abrenuncio’s house. He had just sat down when he felt in advance the immense relief of sharing his sorrow. He came to the point with no preambles: ‘I have left the girl in Santa