DANIEL MOYANO
419
had told you about comets was true, but Vargas, quite excited,
didn't stop talking, relating country superstitions filled with terrors.
It was evident he didn't believe what he was saying, but the subject
delighted him. I half-listened because I began
to
think how afraid of
stars you were. The first time you saw them consciously you were
afraid they'd fall down on you. Everything I could explain to you
about that impossibility was useless. When you didn't understand a
thing, you scowled, shut your eyes tight, and said, "It can't be," and
then refused to go on talking about the matter. One time, you didn't
want to accept the earth's forming part of the Milky Way. It was one
of your father's many mistakes. The cornetist soon forgot the comet
and went on talking about other things. When I stopped thinking
about the matter of the Milky Way and listened attentively again, he
was talking about the salaries they had promised us and the possibil–
ity that the legislature would not approve the new tax because there
was feeling against it among the representatives. Happily, he left
and I hurried to your room. "Son, come see the comet," I said. You
didn't hear me very well, you let me take you and dress you, but
when we got to the patio and you opened your eyes and saw that ball
of fire in the sky, you looked at me as if terrified. There was a
neighboring cornfield which could be seen almost as if it were
daylight. Nearby the cocks were crowing, and the dogs were barking
in the distance. You asked me to put you down. When I did so, you
looked toward the comet and in your expression there was, I believe,
a flash of acceptance. You looked at me as if telling me you were sur–
prised to verify what you had once believed to be legend or error in
your father's mouth. I felt proud. You asked me several questions
which I answered rapidly. Do you remember? Mane. Tail. I knew
many things about comets. That grimace of doubt came over your
face when I stated that the comet would return
to
earth in seventy–
six years. I said you would see it again and that was a real piece of
luck because many people went through life without being able to
see a comet. You went to bed right away. Your mother was anxious
to put you back in bed as if she too feared the comet. I stayed up a
while watching until it began to fade. Then I went to bed thinking
that the permanent disbelief you had about everything must be
something fundamental, some primary confidence, but I failed to
imagine what it could be. I was afraid it might be something
dangerous. Afterwards I fell asleep with an answer which earlier,
referring to other events, the lead drummer had given me: your
denials were nothing more than forms of your security, they were
