Saving the World by Julia Álvarez Page B

why not my true condition? “You are notimposing, Don Francisco,” I assured him. “I lost my parents and sisters twenty years ago in the great epidemic. Thousands upon thousands perished here in Galicia.” He nodded. Of course, he would know of that epidemic. “These”—I indicated my dress, lifting my mantilla slightly and rearranging it on my shoulders—“well, we have a boy here, also by the name of Francisco, who has helped me see that these are marks of my vanity, under the guise of courtesy to others.”
    â€œYou are too harsh a judge, no doubt.” His smile was kind. He could see the better facets of my nature behind the harsh mask I was holding up before him.
    â€œDoña Isabel?” It was Nati in the doorway. She looked from one to the other, no doubt surprised to find me unveiled before company. “Shall we start without you?”
    â€œPlease, Nati.”
    She lingered a moment, no doubt trying to piece a story together. A visitor in uniform. An older man. Old enough to know better than to philander in our port city, getting some young lady in trouble. For shame. No doubt he was now in a pickle, or the young lady was, and he had come to make arrangements. Her face hardened in judgment. She cast me a look as she turned to go.
What did I tell you about men, scoundrels all of them!
    Alone again, Don Francisco explained how the vaccination would work. The carriers would not suffer any ill effects. A mere vesicle, perhaps a slight discomfort or feverish feeling. “Small price when one thinks of the salvation they will be bringing to the whole world. Yes, the whole world!” It seemed the expedition would not stop in the Americas but proceed across Mexico by land, from Veracruz to Acapulco, then on to the Philippines and China, round the cape of Africa and back to Spain. The names—New Spain, the Philippines, China, Africa—were ones I had taught the boys as I turned the globe stroking the places we would never go.
    â€œAnd, of course, by being carriers, the boys will be spared the smallpox themselves. Immunity,” he called it. “They will be bringing a bodily salvation, which will no doubt open the way to a larger salvation and conversion to the true faith.” As he spoke, Don Francisco’s eyes, and my own following his, were drawn up to the tapestry that hung like a presence in theroom. In the growing darkness only the gilded touches were visible, the halo on the angel, the illuminated Virgin, and riding down a shaft of light, a tiny glowing being which was now transformed in my sight into the smallpox vaccine descending to save mankind. We had been looking to God, but salvation had issued from our own reasoning minds.
    Oh sacrilege! I shook myself. Was this Don Francisco a servant of a higher purpose, as he called himself, or a minion of the Evil One? Had my rosary been in my pocket, I might have been tempted to thrust it in front of this stranger. Father Ignacio had advised I do this whenever I felt the Evil One lurking.
    â€œYou seem in shock, Doña Isabel?” His voice had a touch of amusement.
    â€œIt is a lot to learn in one afternoon,” I admitted.
    â€œWould that all my students and listeners were as receptive and intelligent as you.”
    Our Francisco had correctly named me. Vanity was alive and well in the rectoress. I ached for more of his good opinion. “You will not find Doña Teresa an easy person to speak with,” I warned him.
    â€œThis
is
an order from His Majesty,” he repeated.
    â€œThat might not get you a long way with our benefactress,” I hinted. Donã Teresa had powerful allies, who agreed with her opinions. The king indulged them, too afraid of alienating the nobility and leaving himself wide open to the rabble’s revolution as his cousin had done over in France, losing his royal head in the bargain. I could already hear Doña Teresa’s objections. She would