ABSURDITIES.
Pablo and Marianela went out into the country, preceded by Choto, who
ran on and danced round them, leaping with delight, and sharing his
caresses with great impartiality between his master and his master’s
guide.
“Nela,” said Pablo,--“it is a lovely day; the air is soft and fresh,
and the sun warm without being scorching. Where shall we go?”
“Let us go straight on through the meadows,” replied Nela, poking her
hand into one of the pockets of the lad’s coat. “What have you brought
me to-day?”
“Search and you will find,” said Pablo laughing.
“Ah! Holy Virgin! chocolate! how I love chocolate!--nuts--and something
done up in paper. What is it? Oh, Blessed Virgin! a sweetie! Do not I
like sweeties! How rich I am! We do not have such good things to eat at
home, Pablo. There is no luxury in our food; there is no luxury in our
clothes either, to be sure. In fact, no luxury of any sort.”
“Where shall we go to-day?” repeated the blind lad.
“Wherever you like, child of my heart,” replied Nela, eating the
sugar-plum and tearing up the paper it had been wrapped in. “I hear and
obey, king of the world.”
The child’s black eyes sparkled with happiness; her sprightly little
birdlike face smiled and wrinkled with satisfaction, and was not still
for an instant, as though fitful flashes came and went there like
dimpling light on wavelets in a pool. This helpless little creature,
whose spirit seemed imprisoned and confined in the feeble body,
expanded and rose elastic when she was alone with her master and
friend. With him she at once became original, bright and intelligent;
she had feeling, grace, refinement and fancy. When she left him, the
dark doors of a prison seemed to close on her once more.
“But I tell you we will go wherever you like,” remarked the blind
youth. “I like to do what you like. If you wish we will go to the clump
of trees beyond Saldeoro--but just as you like.”
“Yes, yes, delightful!” exclaimed Nela, clapping her hands. “And as
there is no hurry, we can sit down whenever we are tired.”
“There is a nice place near the spring--do you remember, Nela? And
there are some large tree-trunks, which seem to have been left there on
purpose for us to sit upon, and we hear so many, many birds singing,
that it is quite glorious.”
“And we can go past the mill-stream that, you say, talks and mumbles
the words out like a tipsy man. Oh! what a lovely day and how happy I
am!”
“Is the sun very bright, Nela? Though if you say ‘yes,’ I shall be none
the wiser, since _bright_ has no meaning for me.”
“It is very bright indeed, _Señorito mio_. But what does it matter
that you cannot see it? The sun is not at all pretty; you cannot look
in its face.”
“Why not?”
“Because it hurts.”
“Hurts what?”
“Hurts the eyes. How do you feel when you are happy?”
“When I am out with you, just we two together in the fields?”
“Yes.”
“Oh! I feel inside me a sort of freshness, a springing up of something
sweet and soothing....”
“That is just it; now you know how the sun shines bright.”
“What with freshness?”
“No, no--silly boy.”
“What then?”
“Oh, like that.”
“Like that? But what is that?”
“Like that,” Nela insisted again.
“I see, it is a thing that cannot be explained in words. Do you know I
used to have a notion of day and of night. It was daytime when people
talked, it was night when people were silent and the cocks crowed. Now
I estimate it differently; it is day when you and I are together, and
it is night when we are apart.”
“Ah, Holy Mother!” exclaimed the girl, shaking back the elf-locks that
hung over her forehead.--“To me, who can see, it is exactly the same.”
“I mean to ask my father to let you come and live in our house, so that
I may always have you with me.”
“Good, good!” cried Marianela clapping her hands once more. And as she
spoke, she skipped on a little way in front and picking up her skirts
with a great deal of grace began to dance.
“What are you about?” asked the blind boy.
“Child of my heart, I am dancing, I felt so happy that I thought I must
dance.”
However, they now had to get over a little fence, and she slipped her
hand into his. After surmounting this obstacle, they went along a lane
hedged in on each side by luxuriant ivy and brambles. Nela held the
branches back that they might not scratch her companion’s face, and at
last, after going down-hill for a considerable time, they went up a
slope shaded by chestnut and walnut trees. When they had reached the
top Pablo said:
“If you do not mind we will sit down here. I hear some people going
past.”
“They are the people returning from the market at Homedes. To-day is
Wednesday. The high-road runs just below and we can rest here before
going on.”
“It is the best thing we can do. Choto, come here.”
The trio seated themselves.
“The place is full of flowers,” said Nela. “What beauties!”
“Pick me some. Though I cannot see them, I like to hold them in my
hand. I fancy I can hear them.”
“Here are some lovely ones.”
“As I hold them in my hand I fancy that they make me feel and
understand--I cannot tell you how--that they are pretty and gay. There
is something inside me, that they seem to belong to, and that answers
to them. Do you know, Nela, I fancy that I can really see, inside, as
it were.”
“Oh! yes, I quite understand--we have everything inside us there. The
sun, the flowers, the moon and wide blue sky, with all the stars--we
have them all there; I mean that besides all the beautiful things
outside us, and around us, we carry others with us in our minds. Here
you have a flower--and another, and another--six, all quite different.
Now, what do you think flowers are?”
“Flowers,” said the blind youth, puzzled and lifting them to his face.
“Flowers are I fancy as if the earth smiled; but, in truth, I know very
little about plants and flowers.”
“Merciful Mother! what terrible ignorance!” cried Nela, stroking her
friend’s hands. “Flowers are the stars of the earth.”
“What an extravagant fancy! And what are the stars then?”
“The stars are the eyes of those who have gone to Heaven and look down
on us.”
“Well, but then the flowers....”
“Are the eyes of those who are dead and have not gone straight to
Heaven,” said the girl, with all the decision and conviction of a
Doctor of Theology. “The dead are buried in the ground; but as they
cannot lie still there without just peeping out at the world, they put
forth something which takes the form of a flower. When, in a field
there are many, many flowers, it is because--once upon a time, long
ago, a great many people were buried there.”
“No, no,” said Pablo very seriously. “Do not believe such nonsense. Our
holy religion teaches us that the spirit quits the flesh and that our
mortal life comes to an end. What is buried, Nela, is a mere shell of
useless clay which can neither think, nor feel, nor even see.”
“The books say so--but Señana says that books are full of lies.”
“But faith and reason say so too, dear Nela. Your imagination makes you
believe a number of foolish things, but by degrees I will show you your
errors, and you will have true and right ideas about everything in this
world and the other.”
“Aye, aye! I know, lessons at three for a penny!--And you wanted to
make me believe that the sun stands still and the earth spins round and
round it! How can you know, you who cannot see. Merciful Heaven! May I
die on the spot, if the earth is not as steady as a rock and the sun
running on. _Señorito mio_, I do not set up for learning, but I have
spent many hours of the day and night in looking at the sky, and I know
how the machine works.--The earth is below and full of islands, some
large and some small. The sun comes up on this side and goes down out
there. It is God Almighty’s palace.”
“Foolish child!”
“But why not? Ah! you have never seen a fine day and clear sky; why,
child, you could fancy blessing was dropping down from it. I do not
think there could be wicked people--nobody could be wicked--if they
would only turn up their faces and see the great eye that looks down
upon us.”
“Your religion is full of superstition, my little Nela. I will teach
you something better.”
“Nobody has taught me anything,” said María very simply. “But I myself,
whoever may object, have found out in my own head a great many ideas
that comfort me, and so when a good idea occurs to me, I say: ‘Of
course, it must be so; it cannot be otherwise.’ At night, when I am
alone at home, I wonder what will become of us when we die, and I think
how much the Holy Virgin loves us.”
“Yes, she is our loving Mother.”
“And I look up at the sky and I feel her close over my head, just as
when you go up to any one, you feel the warmth of their breath. She
looks at us night and day through all the lovely things there are in
the world--do not laugh at me.”
“Those lovely things...?”
“Are her eyes, of course. Oh! you would understand it if you had eyes
yourself. You have not seen a white cloud, a tree, a flower, running
water, a little child, a little lamb, the sparkling dew, the moon
sailing across the sky, and the stars, which are the eyes of the good
men who are dead....”
“They would not want to go up there if they lie under the ground
throwing out flowers.”
“Only hear this all-knowing fellow! Why they stay down there only till
they are purified of sin, and then they mount and fly up there. Yes,
I believe it, simpleton. Why, what can the stars be if they are not
the souls of those who are saved? Do not you know that stars sometimes
come down? I, I myself, have seen them fall; down, down, leaving a ray
of light behind them. Yes, Señor, the stars come down when they have
something to tell us here below.”
“Oh, Nela!” Pablo exclaimed eagerly. “Your wild imaginings, absurd as
they are, charm and captivate me, for they betray the innocence of your
soul and the strength of your fancy. All your errors even are part of
an earnest disposition to know the truth, and of great gifts, which
would be very superior talents if they were cultivated by reason and
education. You must acquire one precious accomplishment of which I am
deprived--you must positively learn to read.”
“To read!--And who is to teach me?”
“My father will; I will ask him to teach you. You know he never refuses
me anything. What a pity it is you should live in such a wretched way;
your mind is a mine of treasures. You are goodness and sweetness
itself and have a lovely imagination. God has given you a large share
of all the gifts that are in his store and part of himself; I know
it well--I cannot see what is outside, but I can see within, and I
know all the wonders of your spirit that you have shown me since you
have been my guide.--It is a year and a half now, and it seems like
yesterday, that we first began our walks together--and yet, no; I
have known you a thousand years. How is it that there is such a close
relationship between your feelings and mine? Just now, for instance,
you have talked all sorts of extravagant nonsense, and I, who know the
truth about the world and religion, I was stirred to enthusiasm as I
listened to you. I feel as if it were a voice speaking in my own heart.”
“Holy Mother!” exclaimed the girl, folding her hands. “And can he see
something else that I feel?”
“What is that?”
“That I was put into the world expressly to be your _lazarillo_, and
that my eyes would be of no use at all, if it were not to guide you and
to tell you how beautiful the world is.”
The blind boy turned his head suddenly and eagerly, and putting out his
hands to touch the child by his side, he said anxiously:
“Tell me, Nela--what are you like?”
But Nela did not answer; the question was a stab to her heart.