Chapter XXX

In the morning Maximina, after taking chocolate, felt a trifle indisposed. They attributed it to a little indigestion, and took no account of it. All that day she dragged about, feeling wretchedly, but still keeping up. When Miguel came from his office, she had thrown herself on the bed; on hearing the bell she quickly got up, and came out as usual to receive him. Nevertheless, she soon felt obliged to lie down again; she kept getting up to attend to this thing and that, but returned to a lying posture again, now on Miguel's bed, now on her own.

"I am going to call a doctor," said he. Maximina was strongly opposed. The only compromise that he could make was that she would allow him to call one on the next day if she were not better. She absolutely expected to wake up the next day sound and well.

But it was not so.

She awoke with a quick pulse, and Miguel would not hear to her sitting up. He called in an old and experienced doctor that there was in the ward, and he, after taking her pulse and looking at her tongue, declared that she had some fever, but that apparently there was no disorder of the stomach. Miguel, on hearing this, wished to stay away from the office, but his wife was so opposed to it that finally he gave in to her, promising to come home early.

In the afternoon her temperature had risen slightly; still she was calm: only from time to time, as though she felt some oppression, she would draw long, deep sighs.

The next morning the doctor found her decidedly feverish, but he could not as yet decide what was the cause, for the frequent and deep inspirations which he obliged her to take were perfect, and there seemed to be no lung difficulty, and the stomach also was in sound condition. He inclined to think that it was rheumatic fever, for, a few days before, she remembered that she had complained of pains in her shoulder; more than that he could not assure them.

Miguel went to his office, but he returned at two o'clock; the doctor left his clinical thermometer, so that her temperature might be taken from time to time and recorded on a piece of paper.

On the next day the temperature was still higher. The doctor now inclined to the opinion that the fever was nervous, because rheumatic symptoms were not well defined. He prescribed the valerianate of quinine and a potion. Miguel went to the office to report to his chief--nothing more. He stopped, however, to speak with his comrades; among them was one who had studied medicine, although without great success.

"What is the matter with your senora?" they asked him.

"I do not know. The doctor is doubtful whether it is a rheumatic or a nervous fever."

"Man alive! I don't see what one fever has to do with the other," said the medical employe, with self-sufficiency. "At all events pray God, Rivera, that it may not be nervous fever."

Miguel, on hearing these words, felt chilled through. A strange trembling passed over his frame. He made an effort to control himself, and said in a voice that was already changed:--

"The doctor told me to take her temperature often."

"And how does her temperature stand?"

Although he did not know what exact connection the degrees had with the fever, yet, terrified by the words that had passed, he did not dare to say that she had forty-one and a few decimals, and replied:--

"Forty centigrade."

"That cannot be; that would be a very high fever.... Come, friend Rivera, it must be confessed that you know more about philosophy than about taking temperatures."

"Yes, Rivera; you must be mistaken," said another.

He stood rooted to the floor; he grew terribly pale, and was on the point of fainting away.

His companions, noticing his pallor, began to encourage him.

"Man! don't be frightened.... You must have made some mistake. Besides, even if you hadn't, it would not be necessarily fatal."

A companion, to give him still more encouragement, whispered: "Don't mind that pestilent fellow! What does he know about fevers? He never in his life opened a book!"

Nevertheless, he felt a stab in his very heart. He left the Consejos with his face changed, and took a carriage, for he feared that he might faint. He rushed into his wife's room.

"How do you feel?"

"Well," she replied, with a sweet smile.

"Let me take your temperature," said he, hastening to put the thermometer under her arm. His heart beat furiously. Not being able to stay still while the thermometer remained there, he began to walk up and down through the room. At last with trembling hand he took it out, and ran to the shutter, which was closed; he opened it a little way and looked. The temperature had risen a few decimals: it was almost forty-two degrees.

He could not speak a word.

"What makes you so excited about that blessed little tube?" said Maximina. "What is the good of it?"

"I don't know; the doctor sent it to me.... I am going to set down the temperature."

Instead of going to his study, however, he went to his chamber, threw himself face down upon his bed, sobbing.

"They have killed me! They have killed me!" he murmured, while his tears bathed the pillows.

For nearly half an hour he thus lay without ceasing to repeat amid sobs the words: "They have killed me! They have killed me!"

In fact, a stab through the heart would not have had more effect upon him than the frightful idea that had been suggested to him at the office.

At last he arose, bathed his eyes in cold water, and again repairing to his wife's room told her that he was going to notify Don Facundo; for he would not forgive him for not doing so.

As he was going out, the neighbor who lived in the opposite apartment called at the door, to offer her services "for everything, absolutely for everything."

She was an excellent lady, a colonel's widow, whose son was a lieutenant and gave her much sorrow. Although she had only spoken a few words with Maximina on the stairway, it seemed that she was much drawn toward her. Miguel was very grateful to her, and took her into the bedroom, and then immediately set out on his errand.

He felt that he must confide in some one, and therefore he went in search of Don Facundo. As soon as he saw him, he began to weep like a child. The poor senor endeavored to console him as well as he was able.

"You are very impressionable, Miguelito. Who would ever have thought of getting into such a state when the doctor has not said as yet that there was any danger! But, at all events, as you are so much alarmed, it would be a good idea to have a consultation of doctors, even if it were for nothing else than to calm you."

"Yes, yes, Don Facundo; I want to have a consultation!" exclaimed the anxious young man, as though salvation entirely depended on it.

"Very well, I will notify the doctors; you speak with the regular attendant, so that he will not be offended."

Miguel left the apothecary shop, much calmer. When he reached home, Maximina was a little delirious.

"She imagines," said the colonel's widow, "that there is a door open behind the head of the bed, and much cold comes in."

"How do you feel?" asked Miguel, laying his hand on her forehead.

"Well; but a great deal of cold air comes in from that open door."

"You are right; I will go and shut it."

He pretended to do so, and for a time she was pacified. The young man afterward wanted to kiss her; but she would not allow him, saying in great agitation, though in a low voice:--

"How can you be so shameless? Don't you see that this senora is here?"

Not even though she was delirious did the sentiment of bashfulness desert this young creature.

During the afternoon she was very restless, sometimes out of her head.

After her whim about the door she imagined that a number of men had come to get her. When Miguel approached the bed, she would say, in terror:--

"See! see that man who has come to take me away!"

"Never mind, _preciosa_; as long as I am here, no one will take you away!"

Her husband's voice and caresses brought her back to reason as by magic, and soothed her for a few moments.

The widow insisted on staying to watch that night, for it was two nights since either Juana or Miguel had gotten any sleep. The latter went and threw himself down on his bed, charging that if there were the least change, he should be called.

And in fact the widow woke him up about midnight, saying that Maximina refused to take her potion and was very restless.

He immediately arose and ran to her room. His wife, after the struggle that she had undergone with the worthy senora, was in a very agitated state, her face extremely flushed and her eyes wildly rolling. She did not know her husband. He, seeing her in that state, lost all his courage and began to weep. Then Maximina looked straight at him; her eyes soon lost that terrible look of delirium, and she sat up in bed, and leaning over toward the young man asked him:--

"Why are you weeping, light of my life? why are you weeping?"

"Because you have refused to take your medicine, and if you don't, you won't get well."

"I will take it, I will take it; don't cry, for Heaven's sake! Give it to me!"

And she eagerly drank the spoonful that he put to her lips.

"You will not weep any more, will you?" she asked him, anxiously, and on hearing him say "no," she kissed his hand again and again.

In the morning the consultation of physicians was held. One at a time they went in to see the sick woman.

"How tired I am of showing my tongue!" she exclaimed, with a comic gesture which made him laugh in spite of his tribulations.

The doctors could not come to a definite decision as to the seat of the fever; they all were inclined, however, to the opinion that it was in the nervous centre. They were perfectly agreed that at all hazards the temperature must be in some way reduced. For this they prescribed an antipyretic remedy.

Miguel himself went in search of it. Its effect was very quick. Within a few hours after taking it the fever had subsided two degrees; in the morning the thermometer indicated only thirty-nine and a few decimals; her restlessness and delirium had entirely disappeared. She felt so much better that Miguel had no doubt that in four or five days she would be up and about.

He was so excited by his excess of joy, that, being unable to stay in the house, he went out to enjoy the coolness of the morning, although he had been watching the night before. He took a turn through the Retiro; the weather was cool and beautiful; the joy that filled his soul to overflowing made him see in the bright sun, in the songs of the birds, in the foliage of the trees, mysterious beauties which he had never before realized. It was as much as he could do not to throw his arms around the solitary pedestrians whom he met.

But alas! he did not know that the remedy that the doctors had prescribed fulfilled its work merely in cooling the blood, and had not the power of overcoming the malady. Toward the end of the afternoon her temperature began to rise again. So deceived was he that he attributed it to the natural increase that all diseases tend to show at that time of day, and did not regard it with apprehension.

The doctor likewise said nothing that was calculated to alarm him. At eleven o'clock he went to bed, leaving Juana to watch.

Her voice aroused him from the deep sleep in which he was plunged.

"Senorito! senorito! the senorita is worse."

The voice with which a man condemned to death is wakened never sounded more terrible than this summons did to Miguel. He was on his feet in a flash; he ran to her room. Maximina had her eyes shut. When he came in, she opened them, tried to smile, and closed them again--never to open them more!

It was four o'clock in the morning. Juana ran to summon the doctor, first stopping at the opposite apartment. The colonel's widow insisted that it was only a fainting fit; she and Miguel put on a mustard poultice. The priest was sent for. In a few moments he arrived, at the same time with the doctor.

What was the use?

Miguel walked ceaselessly up and down the corridor, pale as a ghost. Soon he paused and wanted to enter his wife's room. The widow, the cure, and the doctor, tried to keep him back.

"No; don't go in, Rivera!"

"I know all; let me pass!"

By his face and manner they knew that it was useless to oppose him.

He threw himself on his wife's form, from which as yet not all the warmth and life had departed, and kissed her wildly for several minutes.

"Enough! enough! you are only killing yourself," they said to him.

Finally they drew him away.

"Better than thou," he cried, as he gave her one last kiss, "there never has been; there never will be on earth."

"Happy are they, my son, who, on dying, can hear such words," murmured the aged priest.

They led him away. He went straight to his study, and leaned against the window. The day had not as yet completely dawned. The suddenness of the shock had checked his tears. Motionless, with gleaming eyes, and leaning his brow against the pane, he stood a long time listening to that voice of revelation in his soul which alone has a right to speak at this supreme hour. At last he could hear himself murmur in a hoarse voice:--

"Who knows? who knows?"