"It's tea he always takes."
"Tea, then, and make it strong. I'll stay here till he wakes and so will. . ." But Father Quixote slid again into the peace and the pleasure of sleep. He dreamt of the three balloons which he had inflated and released into the air: two were big and one was small. This worried him. He wanted to catch the small one and blow it up to match the others. He woke again, blinked twice and realized quite clearly that he was home in El Toboso lying on his old bed. Fingers felt his pulse.
"Dr Galvan," he exclaimed. "You! What are you doing in El Toboso?"
"Don't worry," the doctor said soothingly. "You will soon be yourself again."
"Where is Sancho?"
"Sancho?"
"The Mayor."
"We left the fellow in his drunken sleep."
"Rocinante?"
"Your car? No doubt he'll bring it back. Unless, of course, he slips across the border."
"How did I come here?"
"I thought it best to give you a little injection. To calm you."
"Wasn't I calm?"
"You were asleep, but I thought that in the circumstances your reaction to our coming might make you -- excitable."
"Who was the other?"
"What do you mean -- the other?"
"You said 'our coming'."
"Oh, your good friend, Father Herrera, was with me, of course."
"And you brought me here -- against my will?"
"This is your home, my old friend -- El Toboso. Where better could you stay and rest awhile?"
"I don't need any rest. You've even undressed me."
"We took off your outer things, that's all."
"My trousers!"
"You mustn't get excited. It's bad for you. Trust me -- you need a short period of repose. The bishop himself appealed to Father Herrera to find you and bring you home before things went too far. Father Herrera telephoned me in Ciudad Real. Teresa gave him my name and as I have a cousin in the Ministry of the Interior the Guardia were very understanding and helpful. It was so lucky that you telephoned Teresa from León."
Teresa came into the room carrying a cup of tea. "Father, father," she said, "what a blessed thing it is to see you alive and well. . ."
"Not quite well yet, Teresa," Dr Galvan corrected her, "but after a few weeks of quiet. . ."
"Weeks of quiet indeed. I shall get up at once." He made an effort and sank down again on the bed.
"A bit giddy, eh? Don't worry. That merely comes from the injections. I had to give you two more on the road."
There was the gleam of a white collar catching the sun and Father Herrera stood in the doorway. "How is he?" he asked.
"Getting along nicely, nicely."
"You two have been guilty," Father Quixote said, "of a criminal action. Abduction, medical treatment without the patient's consent. . ."
"I had clear instructions from the bishop," Father Herrera replied, "to bring you home."
"Que le den por el saco al obispo," Father Quixote said, and a deathly silence followed his words. Even Father Quixote was shocked at himself. Where on earth could he have learnt such a phrase, how was it that it came so quickly and unexpectedly to his tongue? From what remote memory? Then the silence was broken by a giggle. It was the first time Father Quixote had ever heard Teresa laugh. He said, "I must get up. At once. Where are my trousers?"
"I have them in my care," Father Herrera said. "The words you have just used. . . I could never bring myself to repeat them. . . such words in the mouth of a priest, a monsignor. . ."
Father Quixote felt a wild temptation to use the same unrepeatable phrase about his title of monsignor, but he resisted it. "Bring me my trousers at once," he said, "I want to get up."
"An obscene expression like that proves that you are not in your right mind."
"I told you to bring me my trousers."
"Patience, patience," Dr Galvan said. "In a few days. Now you need to rest. Above all, no excitement."
"My trousers!"
"They will remain in my care until you are better," Father Herrera said.
"Teresa!" Father Quixote appealed to his only friend.
"He's locked them up in a drawer. God forgive me, father. I didn't know what he intended."
"What do you expect me to do, lying here in bed?"
"A little meditation would not be amiss," Father Herrera said. "You have been behaving in a very curious way."
"What do you mean?"
"The Guardia at Avila reported that you had exchanged clothes with your companion and given a false address."
"A total misunderstanding."
"A bank robber arrested in Leon said that you gave him your shoes and hid him in your car."
"He wasn't a bank robber. It was only a self-service store."
"His Excellency and I had a lot of trouble persuading the Guardia to take no action. The bishop even had to telephone His Excellency at Avila to intercede. Dr Galvan's cousin was of great help also. And Dr Galvan too, of course. We were able at least to convince them that you were suffering from a nervous breakdown."
"That's nonsense."
"It's the most charitable explanation possible for your conduct. Anyway, we have narrowly avoided a great scandal in the Church." He qualified his statement. "So far at least."
"And now sleep a little," Dr Galvan told Father Quixote. "A little soup at midday," he instructed Teresa, "and perhaps an omelette in the evening. No wine for the moment. I'll drop in this evening and see how our patient is doing, but don't wake him up if he is asleep."
"And mind," Father Herrera told her, "to tidy up the sitting-room while I am at Mass tomorrow morning. I don't know at what hour the bishop will be arriving."
"The bishop?" Teresa exclaimed and her question was echoed by Father Quixote.
Father Herrera did not bother to reply. He went out, closing the door not with a bang, but with what one might perhaps describe as a snap. Father Quixote turned his head on the pillow towards Dr Galvan. "Doctor," he said, "you are an old friend. You remember that time when I had pneumonia?"
"Of course I do. Let me think. It must have been nearly thirty years ago."
"Yes, I was very afraid to die in those days. I had so much on my conscience. I expect you've forgotten what you said to me."
"I suppose I told you to drink as much water as you could."
"No, it wasn't that." He searched in his memory, but the exact words wouldn't come. "You said something like this -- think of the millions who are dying between one tick of the clock and the next -- thugs and thieves and swindlers and schoolmasters and good fathers and mothers, bank managers and doctors, chemists and butchers -- do you really believe He has the time to bother or to condemn?"
"Did I really say that?"
"More or less. You didn't know what a great comfort it was to me. Now you have heard Father Herrera -- it's not God but the bishop who's coming to see me. I wish you had a word of comfort for his visit."