"No, no, I do not wish her to go yet," said Teodoro detaining her. "Besides, she is going to have some milk with us."
"Do you wish to see my son this evening?" asked Penáguilas.
"No, yesterday's examination was quite satisfactory," replied Golfin. "The operation can be performed."
"And successfully?"
"Ah!—as to that I cannot say. How great a pleasure it would be to give sight to a young fellow who so richly deserves it, I need not tell you! Your son has a most superior intelligence, a brilliant imagination, and a most delightful nature. His total ignorance of the outer, visible world, only throws his beautiful qualities into relief; they stand out in conspicuous simplicity, with the naked charm and dignity of a work of Nature, untouched and unspoiled by the hand of man. He is full of idealism, it affects all his thoughts—a grand and beautiful idealism. It reminds me of a colossal mass of unwrought marble—a block as it lies in the quarry. He knows nothing of reality, he lives a charmed life, a life of pure illusion. If we could but give him sight! Still, I say to myself—supposing that by giving him sight we should make him a man instead of an angel.—It is a question that raises doubts in my mind. However, we are bound to try to make a man of him; it is the duty of science; we will drag him out of the world of fancy into that of reality, and then, with his powerful mind, he would rapidly gain accurate information and sound judgment. He would soon acquire the invaluable power of estimating the true relative value of things."
Three cups of milk were now brought in, white, warm, fragrant, and frothy to the very rim. Penáguilas handed a cup first to Sofía, and the two gentlemen took the others; but Teodoro Golfin offered his to Nela, who was overwhelmed with bashfulness and refused to touch it.
"Come, little woman," said Sofía, "do not be so rude; take what is given you."
"Another cup of milk for Don Teodoro," said Don Francisco to the servant. And then they heard the milk as it flowed into the pails from the full udders of the cows.
"He will appreciate the true relative value of things," said Don Francisco, repeating the doctor's last words, which had made a deep impression on his mind. "That is an admirable observation, Don Teodoro. And with regard to the subject under discussion, I must explain to you the doubts I have felt for some days past. But I may as well sit down." And Don Francisco seated himself on a stool he had in his hand. The others had already been accommodated with chairs brought out of the house, and Nela was still perched on the stone bench. The milk she had drunk as she was bidden had left a thin white moustache on her upper lip.
"I must tell you Don Teodoro that for some days I have been very uneasy at the excited state in which my son has been; I attribute it to the hope that has been held out to him—but still, there is something else—something more than that. You know that I am in the habit of reading to him out of various books. I believe that this reading has done much to fire his imagination and instruct his mind, and that many ideas have been developed in his brain, which are, as it were, above the comprehension of a blind man. I do not know whether I am making myself clear."