The agents thought that he wouldn’t come; he might have dinner in some restaurant in the suburbs, and get drunk to build up enough courage, but they were wrong.
The Crip had won some money with his three-way bets. After he had left me he’d gone back to the attic to go out later to a brothel he knew. When it was almost shop closing time he went to one that sold luggage and bought some luggage.
Then he went back to his room, very far from being aware of what awaited him. He went up the stairs humming a tango, emphasising the beat by bumping his suitcase against the steps.
When he opened the door he put the suitcase down on the floor.
Then he put his hand in his pocket to get out his box of matches and at that moment a heavy blow on his chest caused him to take a step backwards, just as another policeman caught hold of his arm.
It’s clear that The Crip must have understood what all this was about, because with a desperate effort he tore himself free.
The policemen, trying to follow him, tripped over the suitcase and one of them fell down the stairs, and as he fell his revolver fell out of his pocket and went off.
The noise filled the denizens of the house with terror, and they wrongly attributed the shot to The Crip, who had not yet managed to get through the street door.
Then a terrible thing happened.
The old woman’s son, a butcher, having found out from his mother what was going on, took his stick and went off after The Crip.
He caught up with him after thirty paces. The Crip ran dragging his useless leg, the stick hit him on the arm, he turned his head and the stick hit his cranium.
Dazed by the blow, he tried to defend himself with a single hand, but a policeman who had just arrived tripped him up, and another blow to his shoulder knocked him down. When they put the cuffs on him, The Crip let out a great shout of pain:
‘Ay, mamita!’ But another blow made him shut up and he disappeared into the dark street with his wrists chained together and being led by other chains which the agents marching at his shoulders twisted vindictively.
When I got to the house of Arsenio Vitri, Gabriela was not there.
She had been arrested a few minutes after I had left.
A police officer who had been called in accused her in the presence of the engineer. The mulatto denied everything to begin with, but when they lied and told her that The Crip had been arrested, she began to cry.
Those people who witnessed this scene will never forget it.
The dark woman, cornered, with her eyes shining brightly looked all around her, like a wild beast preparing to spring.
She shuddered incredibly strongly; but when they repeated that the Crip had been arrested and that he was going to suffer because of her, then she softly began to weep; they were such delicate tears that the people around her frowned all the more… suddenly she raised her arms, her fingers came to a halt in the knot of her hair, she pulled out a comb that she wore there and shook her hair out over her back, then she said, putting her hands together, and looking madly at the people present:
‘Yes, it’s right… it’s right… let’s go… let’s go find Antonio…’
They took her to the police station in a wagon.
Arsenio Vitri received me in his office. He was pale and he didn’t look at me as he spoke:
‘Sit down.’
Unexpectedly he asked me in a harsh voice:
‘How much do I owe you?’
‘What?’
‘Yes, how much do I owe you…? Your type can only be paid.’
I understood the contempt that he threw in my face.
I stood up, growing pale.
‘Yes, I see, you can only pay me. Keep your money, I haven’t asked for it. Goodbye.’
‘No, come on, sit down… Tell me, why did you do this?’
‘Why?’
‘Yes, why did you betray your friend? For no reason. Aren’t you ashamed to have so little dignity at your age?’
Blushing to the roots of my hair, I replied:
‘It’s right… There are moments in our lives when we need to be scum, to make ourselves dirty even on the inside, to do something infamous, I don’t know… to destroy a man’s life for ever… and after doing this then we can walk with our heads held high again.’
Vitri didn’t look at my face. His eyes were fixed on the knot of my tie and his face dropped its serious expression and replaced it with one even more serious.
I continued:
‘You have insulted me, but it doesn’t matter.’
‘I could have helped you,’ he murmured.
‘You could have paid me, and now you can’t even do that, because I feel, in spite of all my scandalous behaviour, I feel superior to you.’ And growing suddenly angry I shouted at him:
‘Who are you? It still feels like a dream that I handed The Crip in.’
With a smooth voice he replied:
‘And why are you like this?’
A heavy tiredness fell quickly upon me and I let myself collapse into the chair.
‘Why? God only knows. Even if I live a thousand years I’ll never forget The Crip’s face. What will happen to him? God only knows; but the memory of The Crip will always be in my life, will be in my spirit like the memory of losing a child. He could come and spit in my face and I wouldn’t say anything.’
An enormous sadness passed over my life. I would always remember this moment.
‘If that’s how it is,’ the engineer babbled, and suddenly he got up with his bright eyes fixed on the knot in my tie, and he murmured as if in a dream: ‘You’ve said it. It’s like that. You obey this brutal law that you have within yourself. That’s how it is. That’s how it is. You obey the fierce law. That’s how it is; but who told you that this law exists? Where did you learn it?’
I replied:
‘It’s like there’s a world that will soon fall upon us.’
‘But did you ever imagine that one day you’d become like Judas?’
‘No, but I am calm now. I will go through life as if I were a dead man. I see life like that, like a great yellow desert.’
‘Doesn’t that worry you?’
‘Why? Life is so large. A moment ago it seemed to me that what I did was preordained ten thousand years ago; then I thought that the world split in two, that everything became a far purer colour and that mankind was not ruined.
A boyish smile appeared on Vitri’s face. He said:
‘Is that how it appears to you?’
‘Yes, that will happen one day… it will happen and people will go through the streets asking each other: “Is it right, is this true?”’
‘Tell me, have you ever been ill?’
I understood what he thought and I continued with a smile:
‘No… I know what you’re thinking… But listen to me… I’m not mad. There is a truth, yes… and it is that life will always be extraordinarily beautiful to me. I don’t know if people will sense the life-force as I sense it, but there is a joy in me, a sort of joy-filled unconsciousness.’ A sudden lucidity allowed me to see the motives behind my previous actions and I continued: ‘I’m not perverted, I am curious about this vast force that there is within me…’
‘Go on, go on.’
‘Everything takes me by surprise. Sometimes I feel that I only came to the earth an hour ago and that everything is new, fresh, beautiful. Then I would be able to embrace people in the street, to stop in the middle of the pavement to ask them: “Why do you walk with such sad faces? Life is beautiful, beautiful…” Don’t you think so?’
‘Yes…’
‘And knowing that life is beautiful makes me happy, because everything is filled with flowers… You want to go down on your knees and give thanks to God for allowing us to be born.’