674
RAMON SENDER
he avoided holding Matild31 too close. And as they danced she
was saying:
"The more I think about it the more convinced I am that
maybe I could be the mother of that creature the planet needs.
But it would be more difficult than you realize. With Bob, I
mean, because Bob
is
far away. Always far away. Of course they
do artificial insemination now but even so . . ."
At that moment her white shawl caught on the hard twigs
of a boxwood sphere. One of those potted shrubs stood at each
corner of the dance floor. They stopped to disentangle it and
then began dancing again. Over Matilda's shoulder Arner could
see the physician seated, smoking. He was exhaling the smoke
in
wide clouds that rose slowly above the terrace wall where they
were torn apart and dissolved in the breeze. Arner asked Ma–
tilda, referring to the man on the smokestack:
"What did he do before coming to the sanatorium?"
"He was an engineer, I believe. A generating engineer," she
replied tranquilly.
In the glare of the naked electric bulbs the patients' faces
changed expression, according to the music. With the bolero they
all became dreamy.
"Do you believe," she asked, "that the man on the smoke–
stack could
be
the right father? To create the new being human–
ity is waiting for, I mean."
"Ah, that ... one never knows. That
is
a mystery."
Arner fell silent and she said:
"Everything is a mystery. Bob knows how to make the
nights elastic. I'm serious. Nights fifty and sixty hours long.
And
even longer. I understand this is hard for you to believe, but I
can explain it, if you like."
The music stopped and they returned to their table.
"Do you want me to explain
it
to you?"
The electric bulbs had been covered with their shades again.
Before Arner could answer Matilda, a nurse approached saying:
- . '-<You
are wanted on the telephone."
