"I can say no more than that I have conscientiously examined the case, and can find no sufficient reason for saying it is hopeless, as the other distinguished operators have said whom our good friend has consulted. I cannot pledge myself to succeed, nor can I think it impossible. The examination I made yesterday revealed no defect or injury in the retina, and no disease in the optic nerve. If the retina is perfect, all that is needed is the removal of some impediment in front of it. The crystalline lens often becomes opaque—sometimes hard and stony—and this is what does the mischief. If all the other parts of the organ are healthy and work—but, in the commonwealth of the eye, many individual portions are only too ready to become atrophied by idleness."
"So that, in short, it amounts simply to congenital cataract," said Penáguilas eagerly.
"Oh no, Señor; if it were no more than that, it would be a happy thing for us! All that would be needed would be to get rid of the part that does its duty so badly. It ought to let the light in and instead of that, it is congested, degenerate, stony, and as opaque as a wall. No—there is something more than that, Don Francisco. The iris is defective, the pupil must be taken in hand.—Still, I can laugh all these details to scorn if, when I enter into possession, as it were, of this dormant organ, I only find the choroid and the retina uninjured. If, on the other hand, when I have removed the opaque lens and let the light in, I find complete amaurosis—if it were only partial, that would be something—but if it is total.... When the nerve of sight is dead we can do nothing. The deep mysteries of life are closed against us. There is nothing for it but patience. This case is to me a most interesting one; there are symptoms which lead me to believe that the internal function is unimpaired. The retina, as Sovereign lord, seems quite disposed to receive the light I shall introduce to it, and that high functionary, the vitreous humor, will probably find it no novelty. If from long want of exercise it has sunk into a state of incipient glaucoma—a kind of melancholy—we will treat it for that. All will then be well in that darkened chamber. But there is another thing to be considered. A fissured iris, and an ordinary cataract usually admit some gleam of light, and our patient sees not a glimmer. This made me hesitate. In fact, the sclerotic too is very much thickened; the impediments to the admission of light are many and serious.... However, we shall see, Don Francisco. Have you courage for anything?"
"Courage! What should I have courage for?" asked Don Francisco.
"Sir, you will want all your courage if...."
"Well, if...?"
"If, after undergoing a painful operation, your son is still as blind as before. I said to you, plainly: The case is not desperate; shall I operate?"
"And I answered, and I answer once more; Yes—operate; and God's will be done. Onwards!"
"Aye, onwards! You have taken my motto."