-Iii- · IV

I am going to ask my father to let you live in our house, so that you may never leave me.”

“Good, good!” cried María, clapping her hands again.

And as she said this, she skipped forward a few paces, gathered up her skirts with exquisite grace, and began to dance.

“What are you doing, Nela?”

“Ah, my dear boy, I am dancing! My joy is so great that it has set me dancing.”

Presently they had to scramble over a low hedge, and Nela offered her hand to the blind youth.

Having passed that obstacle, they followed a lane whose two rustic walls were mantled with luxuriant ivy and brambles. Nela held back the twigs so that they should not brush against her friend’s face; and at last, after descending a long slope, they climbed a hill through thick chestnut and walnut groves. When they reached the top, Pablo said to his companion:

“If you do not mind, let us sit down here. I hear footsteps.”

“It is the countryfolk returning from Homedes market. Today is Wednesday. The highway is just in front of us. Let us sit down here before reaching the highway.”

“That is the best thing we can do. Choto, come here.”

The three sat down.

“Why, the ground is covered with flowers...” said Nela. “Good heavens, how lovely they are!”

“Gather me a bunch. Although I cannot see them, I like holding them in my hand. I fancy I can hear them.”

“That is a comical idea, surely.”

“It seems to me that holding them in my hand gives me to understand... I cannot tell you how... that they are beautiful. Inside me there is something, I know not what, that answers to them. Ah, Nela, I fancy that within myself I see something.”

“Oh, yes, I understand... as if we had everything inside us. The sun, the grass, the moon, and the great blue sky full of stars; everything, everything we have inside. I mean that besides the divine things outside, we carry others within. And that is all.... Here is a flower, and another, and another—six of them, all different. I warrant you do not know what flowers are.”

“Well, flowers,” said the blind youth, somewhat perplexed, bringing them close to his face, “are... a sort of little smiles that the earth puts forth.... Truth to tell, I do not know much of the vegetable kingdom.”

“Most Holy Mother, what poor science!” exclaimed María, caressing her friend’s hands. “Flowers are the stars of the earth.”

“What nonsense! And the stars, what are they?”

“The stars are the glances of those who have gone to heaven.”

“Then flowers....”

“Are the glances of those who have died and have not yet reached heaven,” asserted Nela with all the conviction and assurance of a doctor. “The dead are buried in the earth. As they cannot stay down there without casting a little glance up at the earth, they send forth something that rises in the shape and fashion of a flower. When there are many flowers in a meadow, it is because long ago... in bygone times, many dead folk were buried there.”

“No, no,” replied Pablo gravely. “Do not believe such absurdities. Our religion teaches us that the spirit is severed from the flesh and that mortal life comes to an end. What is buried, Nela, is merely clay, useless dust that can neither think, nor feel, nor see.”

“That is what the books say, which Señana says are full of lies.”

“That is what faith and reason tell us, dear Nela. Your imagination leads you into a thousand errors. Little by little I shall dispel them, and you will have sound ideas concerning all things in this world and the next.”

“Oh, listen to the little penny-doctor!... Indeed... as when you tried to make me believe that the sun stands still and that the earth turns round and round!... How plainly one can tell you do not see it! Mother of God! May I drop dead this very moment if the earth is not as still as a rock, while the sun goes racing across the sky. My young master, do not set yourself up for so wise a man, for I have spent many hours by night and day looking up at the sky, and I know how that whole machine is governed.... The earth is down below, full of islands great and small. The sun rises over there and sets over here. It is the palace of God.”

“What a silly girl!”

“And why should it not be so? Ah! You have never seen the sky on a clear day: why, it looks as though blessings were raining down.... I do not believe there can be wicked people—no, there cannot be, if they look up and see that great eye watching us.”

“Your religion, dear little Nela, is full of superstitions. I will teach you better notions.”

“Nobody has taught me anything,” said María with simplicity; “but I, thinking and thinking, have drawn many things from my own head to comfort me; and so when a good idea comes to me, I say: ‘This must be so, and not otherwise.’ At night, when I walk home alone, I think about what will become of us when we die, and how dearly the Most Holy Virgin loves us all.”

“Our loving mother.”

“Our dear mother! I look up at the sky and feel her above me, just as when one draws near a person and feels the warmth of their breath. She watches over us night and day through... do not laugh... through all the beautiful things in the world.”

“And those beautiful things...?”

“Are her eyes, silly! You would understand it well enough if you had yours. He who has never seen a white cloud, a tree, a flower, running water, a child, the dew, a little lamb, the moon walking so grandly across the heavens, and the stars, which are the glances of the good who have died....”

“They would hardly be able to go up yonder if they stay beneath the ground putting forth flowers.”

“Look at the wiseacre! They stay down below while they are being cleansed of their sins; afterwards they fly straight up. The Virgin waits for them. Yes, believe it, silly boy. What can the stars be but the souls of those who are already saved? And do you not know that stars fall? Why, I myself have seen them shoot down like this, drawing a bright line. Yes, sir, the stars come down when they have something to tell us.”

“Ah, Nela!” exclaimed Pablo warmly. “Your nonsense, huge though it be, charms and enchants me, for it reveals the purity of your soul and the power of your imagination. All those errors spring from a great readiness to apprehend the truth—from a powerful faculty of yours that would be exquisite were it aided by reason and schooling.... You must acquire a precious gift of which I am deprived; you must learn to read.”

“To read!... And who is to teach me?”

“My father. I will beg my father to teach you. You know he denies me nothing. What a pity it is that you should live like this! Your soul is filled with precious treasures. You have peerless goodness and an enchanting fancy. Of all that God possesses in His absolute essence He gave you a generous share. I know it well; I cannot see what is without, but I see what is within, and all the wonders of your soul have been revealed to me since you became my guide... A year and a half! It seems only yesterday that our walks began.... No, I have known you for thousands of years. For there is so close an accord between what you feel and what I feel!... You have just spoken a thousand foolish things, and I, who know something of the truth regarding the world and religion, have felt moved and enraptured on hearing you. I could fancy that you speak within me.”

“Mother of God!” exclaimed Nela, clasping her hands. “Can that have anything to do with what I feel?”

“What is that?”

“That I am in the world to be your guide, and that my eyes would be of no use at all if they did not serve to lead you and tell you what all the beauties of the earth are like.”

The blind youth suddenly and eagerly lifted his head, and reaching out his hands until they touched his companion’s frail body, cried with intense longing:

“Tell me, Nela, what are you like yourself?”

Nela made no answer. She had received a dagger thrust to the heart.