The Manuscript Found in Saragossa (77 page)

Crime has the property of stifling the sentiments of nature. Having given herself up to unbridled desire, Señora Santarez forgot that her father was languishing in a dungeon, perhaps under sentence of death; and if she thought little about him, I thought even less.

But one evening a man, carefully wrapped up in his cloak, appeared in my rooms, causing me some alarm, and I was hardly reassured when I noticed that he had put on a mask the better to hide his identity. The mysterious person indicated that I should sit down, sat down himself and said to me:

‘Señor Hervas, you seem to me to be attached to Señora Santarez. I want to speak frankly to you about something that concerns her. Since the matter is a serious one, it would be painful for me to discuss it with a woman. Señora Santarez once put her trust in a rash fellow
called Cristoforo Sparadoz. Today he is in the same prison as Señor Goranez, the father of the said lady. This mad fool, Sparadoz, believed that he was in the confidence of certain powerful men, but I am the person who has their confidence. This, briefly, is what I know. In a week from now, half an hour after sunset, I shall go by this door and say the name of the prisoner three times: Goranez, Goranez, Goranez. The third time, you will give me a bag containing three thousand pistoles. Señor Goranez is no longer in Segovia but in prison in Madrid. His fate will be decided before the middle of that same night. That is what I have to say. My mission is accomplished.' As he said this, the masked man rose and left.

I knew, or I thought I knew, that Señora Santarez had no financial means. So I decided to have recourse to Don Belial. All I said to my charming hostess was that Don Cristoforo didn't come any more to her house because he had become suspect in his superior's eyes, but I myself had sources of information in the ministry and I had every reason to expect complete success. Señora Santarez was overjoyed at the prospect of saving her father. She added gratitude to all the emotions which I had already inspired in her. The surrender of her person seemed to her less reprehensible. So great a service seemed necessarily to absolve her. New pleasures occupied all of our time. I tore myself away from them one night to go and see Don Belial.

‘I was expecting you,' he said. ‘I knew full well that your scruples would not last long and your remorse would be even shorter lived. All the sons of Adam are made of the same clay. But I didn't expect that you would be so quickly tired of pleasures the like of which the kings of this little globe, who have not had my sweet-box, have never tasted.'

‘Alas, Señor Belial,' I replied, ‘part of what you say is all too true, but it isn't that I am tired of my present state. On the contrary, I fear that if it were to come to an end, life would have no more charms for me.'

‘Yet you have come to ask me for the three thousand pistoles to save Señor Goranez, and as soon as he is declared innocent he will take his daughter and his granddaughters home with him. He has already promised his granddaughters' hands to two clerks in his office. You will see in the arms of those fortunate husbands two charming
persons who have sacrificed their innocence to you and who as a price for such an offering asked only for a share in the pleasures of which you were the focal point. Inspired more by rivalry than jealousy, each of them was happy in the happiness she had given you, and enjoyed without envy the happiness which you owed to the other. Their mother, more knowledgeable but no less passionate, could look on her daughters' pleasures without resentment, thanks to my sweet-box. After such moments what will you do with the rest of your life? Will you seek the legitimate pleasures of matrimony? Or sigh away your love in the company of a coquette who will not be able to promise you even the shadow of the sensual pleasures that no mortal before you has known?'

Then Don Belial changed his tone and said, ‘No: I am wrong! The father of Señora Santarez is really innocent and it is in your power to save him. The pleasure of doing a good action should take priority over all the others.'

‘Señor, you speak very coldly about good works but with great warmth about pleasures, which after all are sinful ones. You seem to want my eternal damnation. I am tempted to think that you are…'

Don Belial did not let me finish but said, ‘I am one of the principal members of a powerful society whose aim is to make men happy by curing them of the vain prejudices which they suck in with the milk of their wet-nurse, and which afterwards get in the way of all their desires. We have published very good books in which we demonstrate admirably well that self-love is the mainspring of all human action, and that gentle compassion, filial piety, ardent, tender love, and clemency in kings are so many refinements of egoism. Now if self-love is the mainspring of all our actions, it follows that the satisfaction of our own desires must be its natural goal. Legislators have clearly felt this: they have written laws so that they can be evaded. And self-interested people rarely fail to do so.'

‘What, Señor Belial!' I said. ‘Don't you regard just and unjust to be real qualities?'

‘They are relative qualities. I will make you see this with the help of a moral fable:

‘Some tiny insects were crawling about on the tips of tall grasses. One said to the others, “Look at that tiger near us. It's the gentlest of
animals. It never does us any harm. The sheep, on the other hand, is a ferocious beast. If one came along it would eat us with the grass which is our refuge. But the tiger is just. He would avenge us.” You can deduce from this, Señor Hervas, that all ideas of the just and the unjust, or good and evil, are relative and in no way absolute or general. I agree with you that there is a sort of inane satisfaction to be had from what you call good works. You will certainly find it by saving good Señor Goranez, who is unjustly accused. You must not hesitate to do this if you are tired of living with his family. Think about it. You have the time. The money has to be handed over on Saturday, half an hour after sunset. Be here on Friday night. The three thousand pistoles will be ready at exactly midnight. Farewell. Please let me give you another sweet-box.'

I went back home and ate a few pastilles on the way. Señora Santarez and her daughters were waiting for me and had not gone to bed. I wanted to speak about the prisoner but I was not given time… But why should I reveal so many shameful crimes? You need only know that we gave full rein to our desires, and that it was not in our power to measure the passage of time or count the days. The prisoner was completely forgotten.

Saturday was on the point of ending; the sun, which had set behind clouds, seemed to me to cover the sky with blood-red hues. Sudden flashes of lightning made me tremble. I struggled to recall my last conversation with Don Belial. Suddenly I heard a hollow, sepulchral voice say three times, ‘Goranez, Goranez, Goranez.'

‘Merciful heavens,' cried Señora Santarez. ‘Was that a spirit from heaven or hell? It was telling me that my father is no more.'

I fainted; when I came round I took the road to Manzanares to make one last appeal to Don Belial. I was arrested by
alguaziles
and taken to a part of the town which I did not know at all, and into a building which I knew no better but which I soon saw to be a prison. I was clapped in irons and pushed into a dark dungeon.

I heard the sound of chains rattling near me. ‘Are you young Hervas?' my companion in misfortune asked me.

‘Yes,' I said. ‘I am Hervas. And I can tell from the sound of your voice that you are Cristoforo Sparadoz. Do you have any news of Goranez? Was he innocent?'

‘He was innocent,' said Don Cristoforo. ‘But his accuser had hatched his plot with a skill which placed Goranez's condemnation or his salvation in his control. He demanded three thousand pistoles from him. Goranez was not able to procure them and has just hanged himself in prison. I was also given the choice of either hanging myself or spending the rest of my days in the castle of Larache on the African coast. I have chosen the latter course, and have decided to escape as soon as I am able and turn Muslim. As for you, my friend, you will be cruelly tortured to make you confess to things you know nothing about; but your affair with Señora Santarez gives rise to the presumption that you know all about them and are an accomplice of her father.'

Imagine a man whose soul as well as his body had been softened by pleasure; a man threatened with the horrors of protracted and cruel torture. I thought I could already feel its pains; my hair stood up on my head. A shudder of terror ran through my limbs, which no longer obeyed my will but were jerked by sudden convulsions.

A gaoler came into our prison to fetch Sparadoz. As he went away, Don Cristoforo threw me a dagger. I did not have the strength to grasp it and would have been even less able to stab myself with it. My despair was such that death itself could not bring me comfort.

‘Oh Belial,' I cried. ‘Belial, I know who you are and yet I invoke you.'

‘Here I am,' the vile spirit cried. ‘Take this dagger. Draw blood and sign the paper I am giving to you.'

‘Oh my guardian angel,' I then cried. ‘Have you altogether forsaken me?'

‘It is too late to invoke your angel,' cried Satan, grinding his teeth and vomiting out flames.

At the same time he scored my forehead with his claw. I felt a burning pain and fainted, or rather fell into a trance.

A sudden light illuminated the prison. A cherubim with shining wings held up a mirror to me and said, ‘Behold on your forehead the inverted
Thau
. It is the sign of reprobation. You will see it on other sinners. If you bring twelve back to the path of salvation you will return there yourself. Take up this pilgrim's habit and follow me.'

I woke up, or I thought I did, and in truth I was no longer in prison but on the high road to Galicia. I was dressed as a pilgrim.

Soon after, a company of pilgrims came by. They were going to Santiago de Compostela. I joined them and went with them to all the holy places in Spain. I wanted to go into Italy and visit Loreta. I was in Asturias and took the road to Madrid. Once I reached this city I went to the Prado and looked for Señora Santarez's house. I could not find it even though I recognized all those in the neighbourhood. These hallucinations proved to me that I was still in Satan's power. I did not dare pursue my researches further.

I visited several churches and then went to the Buen Retiro. The garden was completely deserted. I saw only one man sitting on a seat. The great Maltese cross embroidered on his cloak told me that he was one of the principal members of that order. He seemed lost in thought and plunged in so deep a reverie that he seemed to have lost all power of movement. As I came closer I thought I saw under his feet an abyss in which his face was depicted upside-down as if in a pool of water, but in this case the abyss looked as though it was filled with fire.

As I came still closer, the vision disappeared, but in looking at the man I saw that he bore on his forehead the inverted
Thau
, the sign of reprobation which the cherubim had made me see on my own forehead in the mirror.