Roberto Arlt - The Seven Madmen

He saw this as so obvious he was amazed that the doctors had still not realised it.

Ergueta was delighted at his discovery. He was no longer a man, but a spirit, “a pure sensation of the soul”, its outlines clearly defined within the framework of his flesh, like clouds in the infinite blue.

He felt happy and light. On previous nights he had become convinced he could leave his body, casting it off as casually as a suit of clothes. This sudden conviction made him slightly afraid. At certain moments he even had the sensation that he was only in contact with the tips of his soul, so that the balance between his body, about to fall behind, and the surface of his skin left him nauseous, as if he were travelling down in a speeding lift.

He was also afraid of completely leaving his body behind. If it was destroyed, how would he ever get back into it? The nurse looked a vicious sort, and although Ergueta would have liked to be sure he would not do away with his body before he came back, he could not trust him. But once he had got over this first impression, Ergueta saw him more as a weak child, although this did not stop the nurse laughing at the sight of him trying to control his ninety kilos, unaware of the fact that Ergueta could go wherever he liked … but no … he did not want to play games. His goodness would not allow that. And how beautiful it was to feel himself so full of charity! His compassion spread over the world like a cloud over the roofs of the city.

His body lay further and further below.

Now he could see it as if it were at the bottom of a box: the asylum was just one white cube among a whole row of them; the streets glinted blue among banks of shadow; the green lights of the railway shone feebly; then space entered him like the ocean into a sponge, and time ceased to exist.

The heights fell beneath him in his soaring joy: Ergueta was at peace with himself, a wellspring of goodness willed by some outside force. He rejoiced like a dry lake must rejoice when heaven sends it rain.

As he turned to look on the earth with his charity, he saw its green rounded edges with their filmy coating of the blue ether. And since the sight left him speechless, all he found to say was: “Thank you … thank you Lord.”

He felt no stirring of curiosity. A sense of submission reinforced his humility.

In the celestial fields he suddenly caught sight of a rocky hill. Although it was night, the rocks were bathed in a golden glow, and the blue in the distance fell from the golden heights into deep ravines. His body restored to him, Ergueta walked cautiously forward, his fierce eyes unwavering in his hawk-like features.

Of course he could feel anxious, because his body had fallen into sin on countless occasions, and because he knew that in spite of its present solemn expression, his face bore the violent features of a thug, just like the ones he had imitated as a child in the gangs of his poor neighbourhood.

Yet his spirit was seeking forgiveness, and that might be enough, though he could not help but exclaim: “What will the Lord say of my ‘mug’? How dare I show myself before him?” When he looked down at his shoes and saw how they needed a polish, he was even more afraid.

“What will the Lord say of the way I look; when he sees what a gambler and a pimp I am? He’ll ask about my sins … he’ll remember all the stunts I’ve pulled … and how will I answer him? … that I didn’t know … but how can I say that, when he left proof of his existence with all the prophets?”

He gazed down at his dirty, scuffed shoes once more.

“He’ll say to me: ‘You’ve even turned into a bum … a filthy tramp: you who went to university … you gambled on horses, you besmirched the immortal soul I gave you in orgies, you dragged your guardian angel into brothel after brothel while he wept after you, as you filled your slobbering mouth with abominations …’ And the worst of it is I won’t be able to deny a thing … how can I deny my sin? What a mess, dear Lord!”

Above his head the sky was a blue plaster dome. Distant planets revolved on their axes like oranges, and Ergueta looked humbly up towards the golden rocks.

All at once he became greatly troubled. Lifting his head he saw — not ten paces to his left — the Son of God, our Lord Jesus Christ.

Wrapped in a sky-blue robe, the Nazarene turned his gaunt profile towards him. One calm, almond-shaped eye shone.

Ergueta was thrown into great confusion — he could not kneel because “a gent never bends his back” and would never kneel before a Jewish carpenter, and yet he felt a tremendous sob wrenching his soul, and silently stretched out his arms, hands clasped in entreaty, towards the silent God.

He felt all his ignoble frame being filled with devotion to him.

Ergueta stared in silence at Jesus perched on the rocks. His eyes brimmed with tears. He lamented that there was no-one else there to come to blows with, just to demonstrate his great love to the Lord, and finally the silence grew so unbearable he overcame his terrible bewilderment and humbly said:

“I’d like to be different, but I can’t.”

Jesus gazed at him.

“Believe me … I find it so hard to tell you I love you.”

Ergueta turned his back, walked three steps away, then turned round and came to a halt again.

“I’ve committed every sin and a lot of cra … nonsense … I’d like to repent, but I can’t … I’d like to be able to kneel … to kiss your feet, you who died on the cross for us … Oh, if you only knew all the things I wanted to tell you, but they’ve slipped my mind … and yet, I do love you. Can I say it because it’s just the two of us here?”

Jesus gazed at him.

A fresh smile graced Jesus’ face.

Ergueta was silent for a moment, then blushed and said shyly:

“Oh, how good you are! How good! You deign to smile on me, a miserable sinner … D’you see? You smiled. Next to you, believe me, I feel like a child, a mere kid. I’d like to worship you my whole life, to be your bodyguard. From now on I will never sin again, I’ll think of you my whole life, and woe be it on anyone who doubts you … I’ll smash his face in …”

Jesus gazed at him.

Then Ergueta, who wanted to give the best he had to offer, said:

“I kneel before you” — he took a few steps forward and when he came level with Jesus bent his head, put one knee on the golden rocks — but just as he was about to prostrate himself, Jesus reached out his pierced hand, touched him on the shoulder, and said:

“Come. Follow me always and sin no more, because your soul is as beautiful as those of the angels who praise the Lord.”

Ergueta wanted to say something, but found himself surrounded by a silent, rushing emptiness. Ergueta understood he had met God. This was obvious, because when he turned to listen to the voices calling out in the dark ward, a madman who had been dumb since birth shouted out in astonishment:

“You look as if you’ve just come down from heaven.”

Ergueta was amazed.

“You have a halo of light round your head like the saints.”

Fear took hold of Ergueta. He leant his head back against the wall. A one-eyed inmate who had been quiet until now suddenly exclaimed: “Miracles … you can perform miracles. You gave the dumb man his speech back.”

Their conversation woke a third lunatic, who spent the whole day squashing lice between his worn, calloused fingers. Turning his bearded face to Ergueta, he said:

“You came to resurrect the dead …”

“And to restore sight to the blind,” the dumb man added.

“And to the half-blind,” the lunatic with one eye missing insisted. “I can see with this eye now.” The deaf-mute pushed himself upright in his bed, and went on: