"You see, Nela, you may as well go home. My son will not be able to go out this afternoon." And then, seeing that still she did not move, he added:
"You may run round to the kitchen. Dorotea will give you something nice."
[CHAPTER VIII.]
AND YET MORE.
The following day Pablo and his guide set out at the same hour; but, as the sky was overcast and a disagreeable breeze was blowing which threatened to become a south-westerly gale, they decided on making their walk a short one. Crossing the village green of Aldeacorba, they went along the great slope above the mines to the west, intending to go down into the excavations.
"Nela, I must tell you something that will make you leap with joy," said the blind lad when they were at some distance from the house. "My heart is bursting with happiness.—I feel as if the whole Universe, all the sciences, history, philosophy, natural history—all that I have ever learnt had got inside me, and was dancing in procession. You saw those two gentlemen who were waiting for me yesterday...."
"Don Cárlos and his brother...."
"He is a famous doctor who has been all over America, making wonderful cures.—He is come to see his brother, and as Don Cárlos is a great friend of my father's, he asked his brother to examine me. How kind and gentle he is! First he sat talking to me; he asked me a number of questions, and told me all sorts of pleasant and amusing stories. Then he told me to sit quite still; I felt his fingers on my eyelids, and after a long time he said something I did not understand—medical terms, and my father never read me anything about medicine. Then he led me close to the window, and while he examined my eyes with some instrument the room was as quiet.—Then he said to my father: "It is worth trying." They said more, but in a low voice that I might not hear, and I think they talked partly by signs. When the visitors were gone, my father said to me: 'Son of my soul, I cannot conceal from you the joy that is in me. This man, this angel from Heaven, has given me a hope—a very faint hope—but we cling most to a hope when it is smallest. I try to give it up by telling myself it is impossible—no, almost impossible—but it sticks to me like a burr.'—This was what my father said, and I could hear in his voice that he was crying. What are you doing, Nela? Are you dancing?"
"No.—Here I am, close to you!"
"But you used to dance when I told you anything that made me happy. Where shall we go to-day?"
"It is a dull day—we will go as far as Trascava, that is a sheltered spot, and then go down into La Terrible."