MADNESS TO COME BETWEEN a man and his madness. Around eight o’clock, after it got dark, I noticed Jose from my window walking up and down in front of the building. I guessed it had to do with his cousin across the street because every time he got to the corner he’d turn, stop and stare at the nuns’ house. I watched him and until a police car came cruising by, slower than they usually cruise, I had no intention of interfering. And, sure enough, by the time I got downstairs it had rounded the block and was cruising by again, even slower. I told him that those cops were looking him over. They have reason, he said, they smell my violence. He really looked wild. He was dressed OK, but there was a tension in his neck and legs, and his head was thrust forward like an angry nut. I am about to violate that sanctuary of virginity, he said, the blood of my blood is being held prisoner, I must release her. You mean your cousin? Today she promised to come to me and she has not. When did she promise? This morning. She actually promised, to do what? To come to me. You mean up to your room? Yes, to my room. Well, maybe she changed her mind, how do you know she’s a prisoner? Because she promised to come. Well, anything could have happened, maybe she couldn’t make it or something. Of course she couldn’t make it, and this is why I will tear down the door of those malevolent penguins. No, I mean maybe she tried to sneak out, and it wasn’t possible. Sneak, she said she would come and she would not sneak, she would come rending her veil in two. Well, maybe she would and maybe she wouldn’t, I don’t see how you know. I know because she has Llano blood, are you questioning the blood of my family? I’m only questioning your grasp of the facts, Jose. Come on upstairs, we’ll have a drink, and we can talk it over. No, if she escapes and I am not here she will go back. Why would she go back, who’s questioning the blood of your family now? She knows where you live, doesn’t she, I mean the room and everything. I have described it to her a hundred times. Well, if she does get out she can certainly walk across the street by herself, can’t she? And if she doesn’t, you’ll learn all about it in the morning. Tomorrow she will be gone. Where? They will have sent her away. Away where? My friend, he said, you do not know the resources of Mother Church. They have secluded retreats where they send the troublesome religious, whom they call insane. O come on, Jose, for Chrissake, you’re thinking of the Spanish Inquisition, that parish is run by simple-minded Irishmen. They will smuggle her into Red China, she will be lost to me forever. Well, they’re not going to do it tonight, and if you stay here you’re sure as hell going to be picked up by those cops. The nuns probably saw you glaring at them from over here and thought you were some kind of madman, which I’m not sure you aren’t. You think that? No, not really, Jose, but I was watching you from upstairs and I could see why somebody might, so why not come upstairs and we’ll talk about it. We’ll both watch from the window, and if the door opens you can run down and grab her, I’ll even help you. He shook his head. She will be gone in the morning, he said. The squad car came around the block again, and without another word he came up to my room. At first he insisted on standing by the window, but after a couple of drinks he sat down and told me the story. It seems that that morning he had threatened to expose their relationship—such as it is—if she didn’t come with him immediately, and after much badgering she promised to meet him in his room when her classes were done at three o’clock. Well, that’s why she hasn’t come, I said, you forced the promise out of her. A promise is a promise, he said, at least to a Spaniard. You don’t seem to realize that you’ve put the girl in an impossible position. I, he said, I, she has put herself in the impossible position, I will extricate her from it. Do you actually think you’re going to solve this girl’s problems and your own by getting her into your room and into bed? He spat his spitless spit. Do you think I am interested in a cheap seduction, the quick answer of the flesh? I have written a Very Tale for her, which will show her the question and the answer, the problem and the solution, the dilemma and the choice. What, about a nun with a priest on her back, I said, and I wasn’t far wrong. So he read me his wildness, which I transcribe more or less from memory. Bear with it, there’s an epilogue. Once upon a time there was a young nun who liked to walk about the ample convent grounds observing the beauties of nature. In every cloud and blade of grass she saw some aspect of God’s grandeur. One summer’s day, while strolling along the banks of the stream that ran through the convent property, she decided to sit down and rest a moment. It was very warm, and the sight of the trees overhead, the chirping of the birds and the sound of the rushing waters were so pleasant that she fell asleep. It so happened that two beavers were swimming downstream looking for a place to build a lodge and a dam, and when they reached the nun lying asleep on the bank the male beaver beat his broad tail on the water to draw his companion’s attention to the strange sight. They had never seen a nun before. So they swam to the bank and examined her from head to foot, much marveling. This must be some rare natural formation, they thought. The nun, being by temperament innocent and trusting, was sleeping with her legs apart, and the beavers ambled between them, enjoying the shade of her dark long habit. Deep under her skirts the beavers discovered what they thought was an abandoned burrow, and cautiously they entered the moist opening. They were very pleased. Here, they decided, is a fine place to live, here we shall build a dam to hold the waters after rain, and here we shall bring up our young. Immediately they set about carrying branches, mud, and stones from the banks of the stream, and before long they had finished their dam. They then decided that before the sun went down they would make a foray into the woods to gather birch and aspen bark for supper. While they were gone, however, the nun awoke and returned to the convent unaware that she took with her the beavers’ home. That evening after prayers and supper, when she went to pee, she found she could not. Nor could she the following morning. Nor after the midday repast. Nor even after supper the second night. At first she thought it only a temporary indisposition, but when a week had gone by, she found herself in severe distress, not only because of the physical discomfort but also because her figure was changing. She had become plainly round about the middle. The other nuns, jealous of her reputation for piety, began to spread nasty rumors, and when they reached the ears of the mother superior she called the young nun to her and bluntly asked if she had dallied with the gardener or the chaplain. The nun swore that she had not, and although the mother superior believed her she instructed the old physician who attended the community to examine her. Virgo intacta, the physician reported. Immediately there were hopes of a virgin birth, which the doctor blasted by adding that the young nun was suffering from a mysterious impaction which would have to be removed if she was to remain in good health. Specialists were brought from the most distant regions of the land, and although each of them had his own solution to the problem none was successful. It was finally decided that someone, both able and trustworthy, would have to proceed to the seat of the trouble to remove the impaction. There were a number of volunteers, among them some nuns of mannish mode as well as quite a few priests of dubious virtue, but no religious was found able, experienced and agile enough to perform the sensitive mission. All this time the nun was growing larger and larger. Finally, in the army, of all places, a soldier was discovered who had served with distinction in the recent war as a demolitions expert. He was tall and dark and a youth of unquestioned purity. The day of the mission, which came to be known as Operation Operation, arrived, and the young hero, equipped with web-feet, skin-tight plastic clothing, and a large supply of oxygen, was brought to the convent. Both his mother and father, as well as a special delegation of church dignitaries from Rome, were on hand to see him off. It was a solemn occasion. Rumors had persisted, so that not only the health of the nun but the reputation of the entire order was at stake. Dynamite strapped to his legs, crowbar and hand grenades attached to his belt, the young soldier set forth. A day and a night he was gone. Finally after twenty-six hours there was a muffled boom from the nun’s lower regions and then a great rush of waters. Swept out were the ruins of the beavers’ dam and the soldier himself. The nun heaved a great sigh of relief, as did the mother superior, the delegation from Rome, and in fact the entire nation. Despite the clamor for a public appearance, the young man was spirited away to a secret meeting of the Church dignitaries and closely questioned about his feat. There he confessed that at one point, wearied by his long journey, he had been overcome by lassitude, lain down, gone to sleep and dreamed. In the dream, he explained, he had met the nun on a more equal footing and fallen in love with her. The dignitaries were shocked. Exactly what had ensued in the dream, they wanted to know. The young soldier blushed scarlet. Quickly his plastic suit was examined, and it was determined that he had experienced while asleep a nocturnal emission. Thus it was decided after long debate that the nun would have to be released from her vows and marry the young man. She was not at all displeased with the outcome of events, and although in this way she lost sainthood she gained womanhood. You understand the symbolism, Jose asked. Nothing could be clearer, I said, and suddenly I was sick of Jose and his sick little Very Tales and his screwy plans to seduce his nun-cousin. For all I knew there wasn’t even any Rita-Sister Barbara in the school across the street. But he persisted. Who are the beavers, he asked. O come on, Jose. You see what a brilliant metaphorical rendering it is. Rendering of what, I said. Of her situation, he said. It sounds more like a rendering of your situation. I am the soldier, he said. Well, you may be the soldier, but how come the nun keeps changing sizes, at one point she’s small enough to be your bride and at another she’s big enough to be, you should pardon the expression, your mother. Wow, talk about the wrong thing to say! I thought you had eluded them, he said. Eluded who? The Jews, he said, I thought that unlike the rest of your countrymen you had seen through their devices. What are you talking about? I thought you understood that psychoanalysis was at the center of the Jewish conspiracy to strip us of our manhood. Look, Jose, that was an amusing story, sort of, but it came out of your head and because of that I’m sure it has much more to do with you than with a nun who you claim is your cousin, who you claim loves you, and who you claim promised to meet you today. Does anyone have to be a psychoanalyst to see you have all sorts of Oedipal things working for you in that story, and anyway why get so excited about it? He held up his hand and said May I ask you a question? Shoot. You have told me many times about your Catholic background, you even entertained a priest in this room, but really you are a Jew, aren’t you? Is that another metaphorical rendering? No, you are a Jew, aren’t you? I could tell from his face that he meant it, and as I considered what to say I learned something rather important about myself. On the one hand I was furious that he was about to launch again into his familiar anti-semitic line. On the other hand I was furious at being asked whether I was a Jew. I never thought I was anti-semitic, but apparently I am. I say this with a kind of wonder. Well, there wasn’t much more. He left with the question unanswered. By me, that is, which I guess was answer enough for him. You know, plenty of friends in my life have faded away. But this is the first one who died.