WE COME TO THE CHAPTER
I was sincerely pleased to hear him say that. You know the opinion I had of my mother. Even now, having interrupted this passage to gaze at her portrait hanging on the wall, I think she has that quality stamped on her face. There is no other explanation for Escobar’s opinion, since he only exchanged half a dozen words with her. One alone would have been enough to reveal her innermost qualities. Yes, yes, my mother was adorable. Even though at the time she was forcing me to take up a career I had no desire for, I could not help but feel that she was adorable, like a saint.
And was she perhaps right to oblige me to enter the Church? Here I arrive at a point that I had hoped would arise later, so much so that I had already considered whereabouts I should devote a chapter to it. Really there is little to be gained by stating now what I had intended to introduce later, but since I have touched on the matter it is better to finish with it. It is serious and complex, delicate and subtle, one of those things in which the author must pay heed to his child and the child listen to the author so that both will state the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. And here it is worth noting that it is exactly this factor that makes the saint more adorable, without prejudice (just the contrary) to her human and worldly qualities. But this preface is long enough; we come to the chapter itself.