The Shadow
The Shadow by Pio Baroja
Translated by Kroum Kroumov
Because he who praises himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be praised. Matthew 23.12.
She left the hospital on Corpus Christi day, and was going back, aged and gaunt but now cured, home of her mother, to continue her miserable life of prostitution. On her face, all destitution, in her heart, all ignominy.
Not the slightest idea crossed her mind; she only had a desire to end it all, to rest her tired bones forever. Perhaps she would have liked to die in that filthy hospital, where the detritus of vice converged, rather than return to life.
In one hand, she carried a small bundle with her tattered clothing, a few rags to wear. Her eyes, used to semi-darkness, were bothered by the daylight.
The bitter, inexorable sun was shining in the blue sky.
Suddenly, she found herself surrounded by people, and she stopped to see the procession walking by on the street. It had been so long since she had seen it! There in the village, when she was young and happy, and not despised! But that was so long ago!…
She saw the procession moving on the street, when a man, whom she had not disturbed, insulted her and pushed her; the others near her cursed and mocked her.
She tried to use her former smile as a response to the insults, but she could only form her lips into a painful grimace, and she continued walking with her head down and eyes brimming with tears.
On her face, all destitution, in her heart, all ignominy.
And the inexorable sun was shining in the blue sky.
In the procession, under the bright sun, sparkled the gold-lined robes of virgins, the silver crosses, and the precious stones of velvet banners. Then came the priests wearing their chasubles, the rich, the soldiers with their shiny uniforms, all the elites, and they came walking, guided by majestic music, and surrounded by bayonets, swords, and sabers.
And she tried to run away; some boys followed her, yelling, hounding her. She tripped and felt dismayed. Now hurt and crushed by everyone, she continued walking with her head down and eyes brimming with tears.
On her face, all destitution, in her heart, all ignominy.
Suddenly, in her soul, she felt an infinite tenderness, and she turned around and felt dazzled, and she saw a white majestic shadow following her, carrying its wounded heart, pierced with thorns, outside of its chest.
And the white majestic shadow, with its dazzling gaze and its smile full of irony, contemplated the priests, the soldiers, the rich, and all the elites, and moving its stare away from them, and coming near the miserable woman, kissed her on her forehead, with the most pure of kisses.
