688
RAMON SENDER
Bob took Matilda's hand and asked her:
"Will you come to my house, now?"
Before replying Matilda r.emembered the tablets. She did
not answer. Bob was meditating, stirring his whiskey with a
swizzle stick.
On the sanatorium terrace Matilda was dancing again with
Arner, unable to recall anything more. There it
all
ended. That
is to say, she vaguely supposed that she had married Bob, and
then he became ill, and scandalous and unpleasant things hap–
pened to her. The only thing she knew for certain was that Bob
was not coming to see her at the sanatorium, although he sent
her flowers and books from New York, Florida, Bermuda, and
even from Paris. The flowers from Paris seemed to bring with
them some kind of intelligent roguishness.
The music on the terrace stopped and they returned to
their table. Matilda glanced up at the sky frequently and a
neighbor came up to her and said:
"The plane will not come."
"What plane?" she asked a little frightened.
Arner smiled and also looked at the sky. The night was
turning cold and some of the patients were retiring, accompanied
by nurses. Matilda's paper napkin slipped off her lap and Arner
bent over to pick it up. In the spaces between the rugs the floor
of red stone slabs looked hardened and meteorized. They stood
up and went over to the balustrade nearest the orchestra.
They saw a woman enter the terrace with uncertain steps,
walk over to a table, take a glass of orangeade and leave again,
after bowing slightly to Matilda. Matilda explained:
"The poor dear's on the fourth floor. Did you notice how
she walks? Sideways. She was born that way, they say. Like:that,
diagonally. One might say she lives a diagonallife.'l
Matilda began talking about Bob who still loved her, she
said, in spite of their separation. Arner felt that it must be easy
to love this woman. Again she 'asked:
"Now do you understand about the infinite night?"
