Macedonio Fernández - The Museum of Eterna's Novel

“He calls those mounds and bunches of colored paper that you see scattered around his room paintings, since at first he had oils and watercolors, which he replaced later with chrome imitations, very well-chosen, but now all of that is supplanted by colored paper; it’s his painting salon. He’s a great admirer of painting.”

“He’s extravagant, and later he says that since Lombroso was a genius one must grant even less credence to the theory that geniuses are madmen.”

“Again we speak of genius.”

“It’s just that I’m very level in my judgment (and as such, when I received you, although I relieved you of your load of boxes and packets, I didn’t take the bouquet of flowers from your hands, even though it pained me to see you with it in your hands the whole duration of our long conversation, I never offered to take it from you, nor did I know whom it was for, nor did I ask).”

“Ah! It’s true that you are anxious to clarify this problem with geniuses.”

“All I know is that I’m very sane. It’s been a while since we’ve heard you singing at the piano; the President says you should be studying music and that when a musician friend comes he’ll have him evaluate your voice.”

“So you’re leaving?” Sweetheart says here, detaining Maybegenius as he gets up to go.

“I could stay here forever conversing with you.”

“So stay in this ‘dialogue,’ that’s what it is. Or go visit The Lover.”

“He’s not here now.”

“How you love him! He’s very delicate. If he had as much on his mind as the President, do you think he’d be as sweet?”

“I think so.”

“Fine, since, as you’re fond of telling me, you like it when I order you around, begin your visits to Petrona. You’re just standing there staring, don’t you like it when I tell you what to do?”

“I’m looking at you, Sweetheart, and I will go where you tell me.”

“You will conquer her, Maybegenius; you know, I know nothing of conquest; you are good, intelligent, and free.”

“Free? I was; I will never again be free because I cannot forget.”

“You’re in love, that’s for sure, I can see it. How painful that must be! And she can’t love you back?”

“No, she can’t.”

“So she’s in love already.”

“Yes, maybe she doesn’t know it; and the person she loves is in the dark, too. I’m the only one who knows of her love, and I love her too, and she doesn’t know it.”

“How much suffering! That’s life!”

“I’d rather you didn’t sigh over it. I’m leaving.”

“You’re a good man, Maybegenius; you’re good looking and elegant; she’ll receive you well. But that tie…”

“It’s bad, I know.”

“Go get someone to fix it for you.”

“Why don’t you do it, put your hands on me for that. I’ll only mess it up later.”

“What!”

“You straighten it, and I’ll mess it up a bit.” 1

“I don’t understand a thing.”

“Let me do it. I’ll go. While I do encounter new impediments, I do have hope of winning her friendship.”

“I understand even less.”

“It’s a great thought; In order to make Petrona love me, every day she must see something that needs fixing in my moral character.”

“Moral character?”

“Yes, my moral character is how I comb my hair, arrange my tie, my watch fob, my hatband, everything that has a right side and a reverse side, that can be orderly or disorderly, put on the right way or twisted. I’m sure of it: for Petrona, this is my moral character. Don’t worry about understanding it, don’t think yourself unintelligent, since I wouldn’t understand it either if someone said it to me.”

“If you want I’ll say I understand, but since you say I shouldn’t worry, that it’s a riddle…”

“You’ll understand it better tonight when you listen to my communique informing of the result of my first visit. Goodbye, Sweetheart.”

“Wait, listen: I'm anxious about telling you what I have to say: why were you so good to me when I first came here?”

“Who knows. . You seemed so sweet, and you looked frightened.”

“I wasn’t afraid; I knew the President well enough. Be that as it may, however, if I want to keep living I hope to encounter no more good people.”

“How strange! That lends itself to confusion much more readily than my opinion about badly-knotted ties.”

“Explain your incomprehensible seduction procedure to me one more time. I understand that it all happens naturally. Is Petrona not attractive?”

“She would be, except for her face.”

“You also must explain why you feel no regret about making Petrona believe in your false love.”

“Very well: The procedure — I’ll shoo away the flies of regret — charms me to the extent that it absolves me of all morality, casting aside the fact that Petrona is a trollop. I don’t think there’s a single woman of her type, or even women much superior to her, who can resist the unsettling affect of a twisted hatband, or a badly-knotted tie, or a stain on a piece of clothing, wrinkled socks, or a loose button. It’s an unease that, when prolonged by repeated presentations in the person of a single gentleman, drives women to such a state of desperation that they must take charge of the man entirely, to the point of using conjugal union to put an end to all the sartorial imperfections of this person who has so irritatingly crossed her path…”

“That’s all fine and well but: Doesn’t it seem undignified that you would push yourself up against a wall just to stain your back with whitewash — and on the way to see your beloved? What will the reader think of your plan? How rude, we never consulted him in this.”

“Well then, why not tell us your plan, distinguished reader — or has he gotten distracted, and left us alone?”

Reader: “I am as interested in your ideas as I am discreet about them; you can be sure that I’ll only distance myself when I suspect the fatality of a kiss, and I’ll return once I’ve calculated that the friendly spectator would not be an indiscretion. Now, of course, I'm at your service, and I approve of your plan.”

“Thank you very much, that’s worth living.”

Maybegenius went on his way and Sweetheart was left to recite her favorite quintet:

How good it would be

to be good and

Only with good people live.

To suffer with every pain,

And smile at every good fortune.

Simple: “Oh, Sweetheart, how have I not adorned my time here with your conversation, as I see you now free and happy.”

Sweetheart: “It’s true, I feel very happy. What delight to be a part of the camaraderie of ‘La Novela.’ I was doubtful when the President invited me to come, because at that time my life was so insignificant that any possible change terrified me.”

“I also remember with emotion what he told us: ‘I invite you to a “training of the characters,” so that you may be happy in the novel.’”

“This change has been everything for me; I’ve forgotten my past, and I feel hopeful again.”

“I already had some happiness in life. I had begun to understand happiness.”

Actually, Simple is the most adept man when it comes to happiness: as an usher at the Teatro Colón, he knew to keep his place while the orchestra and the song of the great tenor and the great diva resonated together with an astonishing clamor of immense and powerful force, while the distinguished conductor waved and shook his coattails and hair, alternately calming and inciting operatic fury with his gestures. During all this devastating virtuosity, including the virtuosity of knowing how to absorb oneself in this opulence, Simple knew to keep to himself while the singer let out a string of “do re mi.” He played a toccata on his guitar, docile and content and feeling satisfied with life, so much so that in some moments it was possible, amidst all that ruckus, to hear his instrument.