Ariadne in the Grotesque Labyrinth (Catalan Literature) (4 page)

«
That
’
s not it,
»
said the Cervantist, directing himself toward Efrem Pedagog, who was right next to him.
«
That
’
s not it, I tell you,
»
he insisted, congested.
«
The book explains it clearly: Altisidora saw a dozen demons at the gates of hell. Silence! I know what you all mean: the man doesn
’
t have enough substance to coax out so many demons. But why choose Altisidora? He could have named the heroine of the farce, let
’
s say for the sake of discussion,
“
Crist
ò
fora,
”
and not sullied the memory of the maiden.
»
«
What
’
s in it!
»
contradicted Ecolampadi Miravitlles, who had approached them in the meantime.
«
Is it your precious scholarly memory that gets to demand who makes a living? Whether Altisidora or Crist
ò
fora, the spectacle has stopped us in our tracks, captured our attention in the middle of the street, under the sun.
»
«
It
’
s burning hot out here,
»
intervened the amusing Senyora Magdalena Blasi, passionate for climatology.
«
Good day, it
’
s true, and with all the rain yesterday this was by no means a given. It
’
s glorious to live here, glorious.
»
«
One of our unique glories, dear madam,
»
Efrem Pedagog said.
«
Well,
»
he continued.
«
We were arguing, gentlemen, over the veracity of the farce represented before us. I cannot confirm (the pace of my life prohibits me from having the scholarly data at hand) the exact name of the demons that Altisidora saw on her feigned voyage to the underworld.
»
«
A dozen, my good man!
»
erupted the Cervantist.
«
Perhaps you doubt it, sir? I am willing to wager
 
.
 
.
 
.
 
»
«
Let us leave it at that,
»
conceded Efrem Pedagog.
«
I believe you, sir. But that is not of importance. External, historical truth only, my good man.
»
«
Agreed,
»
agreed Ecolampadi Miravitlles.
«
The internal is the important truth, and you can by no means deny that this, despite its imperfections, does not meld with the spectacle we are witnessing.
»
«
Oh, oh!
»
said Efrem Pedagog, posing, a little bothered by the interruption, his eyes blank.
«
Note the way art
—
barbaric and luminous
—
knew just how to discover the psychological refinement within the fable. The maiden mocked love and deserved hell, a vulgar hell of puppets, cardboard, stage backdrops. Altisidora is pretty. She does not have, however, a noble soul. She is exquisite and unreachable because that was what made her an example of quixotic chastity, not for her own sake. I fear, gentlemen, that Altisidora will not be revived here. Here we will witness the ultra-earthly luck of dead Altisidora, truly dead, without resurrections, just as the Catholic and popular mind imagines her. Altisidora
 
.
 
.
 
.
 
»
«
The things you know, sir!
»
Senyora Magdalena Blasi, staring at him, said.
«
But, did you say Catholic? For the love of God, don
’
t speak of religion now. I
’
m so fragile!
»
«
Be quiet!
»
Estanislau Forns, a young technician employed by the grocery store and a member of the
«
Conscious and Totalitarian Sporting Youths of Town,
»
demanded rather rudely.
«
What do you mean, speaking to a lady in this manner?
»
cried out the unconquered hybrid General Don Bartolom
é
Morros de los Cabezos.
«
Out of my sight, lest I teach you a lesson for your impudence!
»
«
Thank you!
»
the old woman with the fine mouth said to that genuine national treasure.
«
One is exposed to so many things these days!
»
The General gestured gallantly. And behold how (with Efrem still savoring the lady
’
s compliment) Altisidora and the demon
—
who had been, until then, so arrogant on the small fair-and-street-corner puppet stage
—
tottered, fell silent, and vanished, tumbling down toward hell
’
s invisible circles.
«
What
’
s going on?
»
asked the large and honorable crowd. It was one in the afternoon.
«
Is it snack time?
»
the crowd wondered, and began to prepare for an orderly exit.
«
What
’
s wrong with this guy?
»
a small woman with a heavy chest, Pura Yerovi, cried out, having practically stopped in her tracks.
«
It
’
s coming down!
»
The little portable stage fell. Under the ruins, a body, its hands still gloved with Altisidora and the demon.
«
A doctor!
»
demanded various voices.
«
Are you a doctor? What
’
s wrong with this guy?
»
«
He
’
s dead,
»
the practitioner said with certainty.
«
How?
»
asked the crowd.
«
Who can be sure, who knows,
»
he answered indifferently.
«
And now, dead! It
’
s strange, under this sky,
»
opined heavy-chested Pura Yerovi. At that moment, a disheveled boy yelled out that he was a relative and leapt on top of the dead man.
«
Poor kid, this is so beautiful,
»
said Senyora Magdalena Blasi.
«
Police!
»
roared the heroic General.
«
Someone call the police! There is no way this can be happening.
»
«
You are correct, this is a cabal,
»
Efrem Pedagog said dismissively.
«
Dying in this manner, on the street, without even the most basic public service yet in motion. And, well, what were we saying
—
Altisidora
 
.
 
.
 
.
 
»
«
Psychological explanations get me nowhere. A dozen demons: this is the honest truth. I do not know the malevolent intention behind it, be it intentional, external, scholarly. External? I prefer that,
»
the irascible Cervantist categorically decided.
«
I agree with the other gentleman,
»
confessed Ecolampadi Miravitlles. And off they went.
«
Are the police not on their way?
»
insisted, still, the General.
«
The unhappy thing, an abandoned boy, how miserable! I
’
m going to fall ill,
»
young Pura Yerovi said, everything emanating from her heavy chest.
«
What a glorious sunny day,
»
murmured Senyora Magdalena Blasi, as she was lost amid the growing multitude.
«
Life, what a trip. Since you entertained me, poor thing, I
’
ll say the Lord
’
s Prayer for you. They were wise, those gentlemen. And wow, how hungry I
’
ve become,
»
realized, impartially, Senyora Magdalena Blasi.

On a celebrated occasion many years ago, my friend Frau Doktor Ulrika Th
ö
us, of the Institut f
ü
r Vererbungsforschung of the College of Architecture in Berlin-Dahlem, wrote me a letter in German that I translated, via the delicate fogginess known as
«
public refinement,
»
into my moribund imperial tongue.
«
You know,
»
my illustrious lady friend said,
«
the work of R. Goldschmidt
’
s team,
Die sexuellen Zwischenstufen
, and the works of Meisenheimer, Harrison, and of my colleague Pariser. I suspect you know as well the studies done by Witschi on certain geographic races of frogs, and I assume you accept without discussion the rigor of Mendel
’
s laws as they pertain to the inheritance of sexes. It explains to us that, in beings of separate sexes, one sex forms, generally, in the animal kingdom as well as in that of the plants, two classes of gametes (X, Y), which is to say that it is heterogametic. In turn, the other sex is homogametic (X, X). What consequences would you draw from within the range of Goldschmidt
’
s extensive studies of intersex before a deviation of the numerical relation of the Mendel inheritance of 1:1 or, if you would like it in the more commonly understood terms, 50%
, 50%
? I have experimented with numerous combinations of distinct species of the genus
“
Triton.
”
A microscopic examination of one hundred and twenty-three gonads revealed twenty-one cases in which ovaries developed, one in which a single testicle developed. And the remaining organism, more or less
“
a speck,
”
had an undifferentiated gonad in the middle of many ovaries. It is a strange result, do you not think? This is indisputable evidence that what we are talking about here are true hybrids: look, if you will, at the photograph I have included for you. You will distinguish in it four species, all of them represented in Germany, four of that country
’
s species of
“
Triton
”
: the
“
vularis,
”
the
“
cristatus,
”
the
“
alpestris,
”
and the
“
palmatus.
”
I crossed them in the following manner: vulgaris x cristatus, vulgaris x palmatus, palmatus x vulgaris, vulgaris x alpestris, palmatus x cristatus (it should be noted that the female always comes first). And I observed this percentage. What could be the cause of this predominance of ovaries? Goldschmidt would have explained it as being due to the transformation of all of the males into females, but this is not viable. 100%
. Imagine! And do not offer me, I beg you, Federley
’
s affirmation of the chromatic combinations in the Lepidoptera.
»

Having arrived at this point, Doktor Ulrika Th
ö
us, a little excited, disserted largely about the theory of Federley, the Finn. Ulrika didn
’
t like the Finnish
—
perhaps because of the remote Ural-Altaic origins of that nation
—
and for a while this dislike came out in an absolutely anti-Mendelian tone. But the beloved Aryan friend found her way back to scientific equanimity and began again to discuss the ever-important matter of the deviation of the numerical relation between the sexes as they pertained to the genus of salamander under discussion.
«
Nevertheless, whatever the case may be regarding the Finn, I firmly believe in Federley
’
s affirmations,
»
conceded Ulrika.
«
Read those in
“
Heredities,
”
XII, 1929.
—
Ü
ber subletale und disharmonische Chromosomenkombinationen
. Are you familiar with these? Perhaps you are not in agreement with them? Have you investigated some fact, unknown to us, prior or posterior to the fertilization, which may be able to impede the development of the masculine sex, which may explain the appearance of a testicle (just one, mind) among so many ovaries? If you have, let me know immediately; I await the judgment of the master. Regarding my position on the matter, I can guarantee that my experiments corroborate those of the wise Finn concerning the Lepidoptera. All the
, convert into
, because the Y chromosome (I allude to Federley) is too weak to overcome the energetic action of the X and determine the emergence of the testicles. If you have another criterion, write to me. I know you are skeptical about
“
Triton,
”
but no matter. Yours, Dr. Ulrika Th
ö
us.
»

Back then I thought, genius that I was, that what Ulrika claimed couldn
’
t be so. I answered her right away, and my response went as follows:

«
Frau Doktor Ulrika Th
ö
us. Institut f
ü
r Vererbungsforschung. Berlin-Dahlem.
—
If, as you have informed me, my distinguished friend, one lone testicle and one that doesn
’
t count as a testicle end up together amid so many ovaries as vulgaris x cristatus, vulgaris x palmatus, palmatus x vulgaris, vulgaris x alpestris, and palmatus x cristatus, I am convinced that your conclusions arise from an overwhelming pessimism. But without question, apart from the neatness and competence for which they are well known, there absolutely must be some lamentable error in your observations. Some testicles were probably disguised as ovaries before your very eyes, which were likely fatigued: this is excusable. Look for them, then, beloved friend, and do not doubt that you will find them. For hidden though they may be
—
and it is incontrovertible that they are
—
sooner or later the testicles will have to appear. Eagerly awaiting the good news, it gives me pleasure in the meantime to offer myself to you for anything you may need in your exhausting research on the sexes.
»