-Xvi-

The Promise

During the following days nothing happened; but there came one upon which an astounding, momentous, crowning event took place. Teodoro Golfín, that sublime craftsman in whose hands the surgeon’s knife was the chisel of genius, had undertaken the correction of a delicate piece of Nature’s workmanship. Dauntless and serene, he had entered with his science and his experience into the wondrous chamber whose structure is the epitome and abridged summary of the immense architecture of the universe. It was necessary to confront the greatest mysteries of life, to question them and explore the causes that prevented the eyes of a man from apprehending visible reality.

For this it was necessary to work with resolute courage: dividing one of the most delicate organisms, the cornea; seizing the crystalline lens and expelling it, while sparing the hyaloid membrane and treating the vitreous humor with the greatest consideration; enlarging the dimensions of the pupil by an incision; and examining by deduction or by means of catoptrics the condition of the posterior chamber.

Few words followed this daring excursion into the interior of a microscopic world—an enterprise no less colossal than the measurement of the distances of the stars in the infinite reaches of space. Dumb and terrified were the members of the family who witnessed the event. When the resurrection of a dead man or the creation of a world is awaited, people are in no other frame of mind. But Golfín said nothing definite; his words were:

“Contractility of the pupil... sensitive retina... some pigmentary condition... nerves full of life.”

But the sublime phenomenon, the fact, the irrefutable fact, vision—where was it?

“In due time it will be known,” said Teodoro, beginning the delicate operation of bandaging. “Patience.”

And his lion-like countenance expressed neither despondency nor triumph; it gave no hope, neither did it take it away. Science had done all it knew. It was a semblance of creation, like many others that are the glory and pride of the nineteenth century. In the presence of such audacity, Nature, who suffers not her secrets to be surprised, remained mute and reserved.

The patient was isolated with the utmost rigor. His father alone attended him. None of the family was allowed to see him.

Nela went to inquire after the patient four or five times a day; but she did not pass the outer gate, waiting there until Don Manuel, his daughter, or someone else of the household came out. The young lady, after giving her full particulars and describing the anxiety in which the whole family lived, was in the habit of walking a little with her. One day Florentina wished Marianela to show her her home, and they went down to Centeno’s dwelling, the interior of which caused no small displeasure and disgust to the young lady, especially when she saw the baskets that served the orphan for a bed.

“Nela will soon come to live with me,” said Florentina, leaving that cavern in all haste, “and then she shall have a bed like mine, and dress and eat just as I do.”

Señora Centeno was struck dumb on hearing these words, as were Mariuca and Pepina; and nothing occurred to them but that the wretched, abandoned orphan had found some king or prince for a father, as in the tales and ballads.

When they were alone, Florentina said to María:

“Pray to God day and night that He may grant my dear cousin that gift which we possess and of which he has been deprived. In what great suspense we are living! With his sight will come a thousand blessings and many evils will be cured. I have made a sacred vow to the Virgin: I have promised that if she gives sight to my cousin, I will take the poorest of the poor I can find, giving her everything necessary to enable her to forget her poverty completely, making her entirely my equal in the comforts and well-being of life. For this it is not enough to clothe a person, or seat her before a table where there is soup and meat. It is necessary to offer her also that alms which is worth more than all the crusts and all the rags imaginable: consideration, dignity, a name. I will give my poor one these things, breathing into her respect and self-esteem. I have already chosen my poor one, María; my poor one is you. With all the voices of my soul I have told the Most Holy Virgin that if she restores sight to my cousin, I will make a sister of you: you shall be in my house just what I am; you shall be my sister.”

Saying this, the Virgin clasped Nela’s head lovingly in her arms and kissed her on the forehead.

It is utterly impossible to describe the feelings of the wanderer at that crowning hour of her life. An instinctive horror drew her away from the house of Aldeacorba—a horror with which the image of the young lady of Penáguilas mingled like figures in a nightmare; and at the same time she felt rising in her soul considerable admiration and affection toward that very person.... At times she believed with childish innocence that she was the Virgin Mary in essence and presence. She understood her goodness so well that she fancied she saw, like the interior of a beautiful open paradise, Florentina’s soul, full of purity, love, kindness, and wise and comforting thoughts. Nela had rectitude enough to adopt and assimilate at once the thought that she could never hate her newfound sister. How hate her, when she felt spontaneously impelled to love her with all the energies of her heart? Aversion and repulsion were like a sediment that at the close of the struggle must remain at the bottom, to decompose at last and disappear, its elements serving to nourish admiration and respect toward her beneficent friend. But if aversion disappeared, not so the feeling that had caused it; which, unable to bloom of itself or manifest itself alone with the overmastering exclusivity peculiar to such affections, produced in her a moral prostration that brought with it the bitterest sorrow. In Centeno’s house they observed that Nela did not eat, that she seemed quieter than usual, that she remained silent and motionless like a statue for long intervals, and that it was a long time since she had sung by day or night. Her incapacity for everything had become absolute; and Tanasio having sent her for tobacco to the Primera de Socartes, she sat down by the roadside and remained there the whole day.

One morning, when eight days had passed after the operation, she went to the chief engineer’s house, and Sofía said to her:

“Good news, Nela! Do you not know what people are saying? Today they took the bandage off Pablo’s eyes.... They say he sees something, that he has his sight.... Ulises, the head of the machine shop, has just told us.... Teodoro has not come yet, but Carlos has gone up there; we shall soon know if it is true.”

Nela remained on hearing this more dead than alive, and folding her hands, exclaimed:

“Blessed be the Most Holy Virgin, for it is she who has done it!... She, she alone has done it.”

“Are you glad?... I should think so! Now Señorita Florentina will fulfill her promise,” said Sofía in a mocking tone. “A thousand congratulations to Señora Doña Nela.... There you see how when one least expects it, God remembers the poor. This is like a lottery... what a grand prize, little Nela!... And perhaps you will not be grateful... no, you will not be.... I have never known a poor person to be grateful. They are proud, and the more they are given, the more they want.... It is a settled thing now that Pablo will marry his cousin: they make a handsome couple; both are good-looking young folk, and she seems no fool... and she has a lovely face, though what a pity about her face and figure with those dreadful clothes!... No, no, if I ever need a dressmaker, do not bring me the one from Santa Irene de Campó.”

She was saying this when Carlos entered. His face was radiant with joy.

“A complete triumph!” he shouted from the door. “Next to God, my brother Teodoro!”

“Is it true?...”

“As true as daylight.... I could not believe it... But what a triumph, Sofía! What a triumph! There is no greater joy for me than being my brother’s brother.... He is the king of men.... Truly it is as I say: next to God, Teodoro!”