“Fine. Thank you very much,” the doctor replied rather oddly.
Then Cervantes turned his back on us and continued on down the street at a brisk pace, a large sack swaying on his back.
“Perhaps you are the second dog,” the doctor turned to me.
“That’s fine with me,” I said, nevertheless somewhat offended by his remark. “I love dogs. I grew up with them. My father had two dogs in his yard, and in our garden at Rojas. .”
“Yes, yes, fine,” the doctor waved dismissively. “You walk on ahead, you keep bumping into my legs.”
We continued on our way.
15. Against Fevers from Colds and for Creative Energy
When we went to see Father Luis del Alcazar the Jesuit, an astounding vision unfolded before us. His fever had decidedly taken a turn for the worse, but as the reader will see, for very puzzling reasons. We found him trembling all over — like an autumn leaf, as they say — with chattering teeth, yet dressed only in an undershirt, sitting in his bed, with sheets of paper spread across his lap and on the blankets, with a quill in hand, an open Bible and an inkpot on the nightstand next to him, with the tobacco leaf from yesterday still tied to his head — and spattered with ink from head to toe. Everything on him and around him was spattered with ink — his shirt, the blankets, his beard, his neck, the papers, even the pages of the Bible. His hand was shaking furiously, which perhaps explained the large, crooked letters on the pages.
In the first instant, Dr. Monardes and I froze in our tracks, speechless. The priest nodded at us and greeted us, trembling intensely all the while.
“What’s happened to you, padre?” Dr. Monardes found his tongue. “Your fever seems to be getting worse.”
This was obviously true. But the padre’s answer was rather unexpected: “This fever is a gift from God, señores,” he said, and I would note that his voice sounded enthusiastic. “Because thanks to it, I received extraordinary visions last night.”
“Yes, yes,” Dr. Monardes replied and nodded at me to begin preparing the leaves.
“No, really,” the priest went on. “I saw scenes from the Apocalypse, as clearly as I’m seeing you right now.”
“We need to treat you, padre,” the doctor said.
“Which scenes exactly, padre?” I asked.
“I saw the twenty-four thrones,” Luis del Alcazar replied, “with the elders upon them.”
“Who?” the doctor raised his head from the brazier which was heating the leaves. It seems that he hadn’t quite heard.
“The elders,” the priest repeated. “From the first to the last. Twenty-four elders.”
“How strange,” I said.
“Yes. And light and voices and peals of thunder were coming from the stones.”
The doctor placed his hand anxiously on the priest’s forehead and nodded. “It’s hot. This is a stubborn fever, padre.”
“I also saw the seven burning lamps of fire,” the priest continued, not paying him any attention. He was speaking to me, as he clearly sensed that I was more interested. “And also the book sealed with seven seals.”
“What book was it?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” the priest replied. “Nothing was written on the outside. But I saw the seals. Strange, red seals.”
“Made of wax?” I asked.
“So it seemed to me,” Father del Alcazar nodded. “I also saw the seals breaking open. When the first broke open, a rider on a white horse appeared, with a bow in his hand.”
“Interesting vision, padre,” Dr. Monardes said. “Now sit still and we’ll change the leaf on your forehead.”
I unwound the white strip of cloth that was tied under the priest’s chin keeping yesterday’s leaf on his head, and the doctor, holding a new, warmed tobacco leaf in his hand, carefully placed it on his bald pate, after which I retied the cloth.
“Now lay down, father, so we can put leaves on your chest.”
“Later I also saw Death, the rider on a pale horse,” the priest said, as he lay on his back. “The horse was dappled, gray with white spots. That makes it a pale horse.”
“What did Death look like, señor?” I asked as I placed the leaves on his chest.
“Like an ordinary horseman. He didn’t look any different from the first.”
“But in human form?” I asked.
“In human form, yes,” the priest replied. “He appeared after the opening of the fourth seal.”
“But father, all of that is already written in the Apocalypse,” Dr. Monardes broke in, and I, at least, clearly managed to catch the skeptical ring to his voice.
“That’s true,” the priest replied, “but it’s another thing entirely to see it with your own eyes. With your inner vision,” he corrected himself.
“And what else did you see, padre?” I asked with curiosity. “I haven’t read the Apocalypse. Or rather, I have read it, but let’s not go into that now.”
“After the opening of the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of those slain for their faith in God, crying out for vengeance.”
“For vengeance?” the doctor asked. The padre nodded vigorously. He was still trembling all over, by the way. “How typical!” Dr. Monardes noted.
“That’s all I saw,” the priest turned to me. “But the most important thing is that some secrets of the Apocalypse seem to have been revealed to me. In fact, I have no doubts about it whatsoever. I am completely convinced that the first through the eleventh chapters speak of the rejection of Judaism, the punishment of the Jews, and the destruction of Jerusalem. That’s just what I’m trying to write out now. With God’s help, the hidden sense of the Apocalypse will become clear to me.”
“Padre,” said Dr. Monardes. “I’ll come again tomorrow. But if your fever worsens during the night, send someone to call for me. Don’t hesitate and don’t wait!”
The priest agreed, and the doctor and I left shortly thereafter. The doctor looked concerned.
“That fever is not progressing well,” he said. “It should have shown signs of improvement by now, but it hasn’t.”
His apprehensions vanished the following day, however. It was, incidentally, the same day that Cervantes was released. In the afternoon after we parted with him, we again went to see Father Luis del Alcazar.
“I received new visions!” he said when we entered the room. “And I think that everything is now clear to me.”
The scene which unfolded before us was not much different from the previous day’s, with the exception that his fever had subsided, while the ink stains and papers had increased.
“What is it like to be such a person?” I thought to myself. I would say that for a moment a certain fear gripped me.
The doctor placed his hand on the father’s forehead, and this time he was satisfied.
“His body temperature seems to be normalizing,” he noted. “But obviously you are still trembling, father.”
“Yes,” replied the priest. “But this illness has repaid me richly. Such visions! The four angels from the four corners of the earth”—he turned to me—“I also saw the fifth, rising from the east, holding the seal of the living God.”
“What did the seal look like?” I inquired.
“A regular red seal,” the priest replied. “But a lot bigger, of course.”
“How big? Like this?” I asked, making a circle with my hands about the size of a fairly large loaf of bread. That’s what I had in mind, in any case.
“Bigger, I think,” the priest replied.
“Like this?” I spread my hands wider.
“Yes. Something like that,” the priest replied hesitantly.
“What exactly is making you tremble, señor? The fever or the visions?” asked Dr. Monardes.