Conversation in the Cathedral

by Mario Vargas Llosa

  “Your uncle suggested I call you, Captain, and I wanted to meet you too,” Cayo Bermúdez said. “We’re colleagues of sorts, right? And we’ll certainly have to work together someday.”

  “She was good, she worked hard, she never missed mass,” Ambrosio says. “But she had her ways, son. For example, she never hit me with her hand, only with a stick. ‘So you don’t turn out like your father,’ she’d tell me.”

  “I already knew you by name, Mr. Bermúdez,” Captain Paredes said. “My uncle and Colonel Espina appreciate you very much, they say that this whole setup is functioning only because of you.”

  He got up, washed his face in the fountain on the square, asked two men where he could catch the bus to Chincha and how much it cost. Stopping from time to time to look at the women and the things that had changed so much, he walked toward another square, covered with vehicles. He asked, bargained, begged and got into a truck that waited two hours before leaving.

  “Let’s not talk about merits because you’ll leave me way behind,” Cayo Bermúdez said. “I know that you got deeply involved in the revolution by lining up officers, that you got military security rolling along. I learned from your uncle. You can’t deny it.”

  All through the trip he was standing, holding onto the side of the truck, smelling and looking at the sand, the sky, the sea that appeared and disappeared behind the dunes. When the truck got to Chincha, he opened his eyes wide and turned his head from side to side, startled by the changes. There was a cool breeze, no more sun, the tops of the palm trees on the square danced and whispered as he walked under them, agitated, nauseous, still in a hurry.

  “The part about the revolution is all true and there’s no need to be modest,” Captain Paredes said. “But as far as military security is concerned, I only work for Colonel Molina, Mr. Bermúdez.”

  But the way to the slum settlement was long and tortuous because his memory went back on him and he had to keep asking people how to get to the road to Grocio Prado. He got there when it was already the time of lamps and shadows, and the settlement was no longer a collection of shacks but a group of well-built houses, and instead of the cotton fields that began where the edge used to be, the houses of another settlement started. But the hut was the same and the door was open and he recognized Tomasa at once: fat, black, sitting on the floor, eating, to the right of the other woman.

  “Colonel Molina’s the one who heads it up, but you’re the one who keeps the wheels rolling,” Bermúdez said. “I know that too from your uncle, Captain.”

  “Her dream was to win in the lottery, sir,” Ambrosio said. “Once an ice cream man in Chincha won, and she maybe God will send it here again and she bought her pieces of a ticket with the money she didn’t have. She’d take them to the Virgin, light candles for them. She didn’t even get a rebate prize, sir.”

  “I can imagine what this Ministry was like under Bustamante, Apristas everywhere and sabotage the order of the day,” Captain Paredes said. “But it didn’t do the devils much good.”

  He went in with a leap, pounding his chest and grunting, and stood between the two and the stranger gave a cry and crossed herself. Tomasa, huddling on the ground, looked at him and suddenly fear left her face. Without speaking, without standing up, she showed him the door of the shack with her fist and finger. But Trifulcio didn’t leave, he began to laugh, he dropped down merrily to the ground and began to scratch his armpits.

  “It did them enough good not to leave any traces, at least, the security records are useless,” Bermúdez said. “The Apristas got rid of the files. We’re reorganizing everything, and that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Captain. Military security could help us a lot.”

  “So you’re Mr. Bermúdez’ chauffeur,” Ludovico said. “Pleased to meet you, Ambrosio. So you’re going to help us out a little in that matter of the slums.”

  “There’s no problem, of course we have to work together,” Captain Paredes said. “Any time you need some piece of information, I’ll supply it, Mr. Bermúdez.”

  “What have you come for, who sent you, who invited you?” Tomasa roared. “You look like an outlaw, you look like what you are. Didn’t you see how my friend took one look at you and ran away? When did you get out?”

  “I’d like something else, Captain,” Bermúdez said. “I’d like to have access to the whole political file at military security. Have a copy of it.”

  “His name is Hipólito and he’s the dumbest of all the dumbbells on the staff,” Ludovico said. “He’ll be back soon, I’ll introduce you. He’s not on the civil service list and he probably never will be. I hope to be someday with a little bit of luck. Say, Ambrosio, you must be on it, right?”

  “Our files are untouchable, they’re classified secret,” Captain Paredes said. “I’ll tell Colonel Molina about your plan, but he can’t make a decision either. The best thing would be a request from the Minister of Public Order to the Minister of War.”

  “Your friend ran off like I was the devil himself.” Trifulcio laughed. “Listen, Tomasa, let me have some of that food. I could eat a horse.”

  “That’s precisely what we have to avoid, Captain,” Bermúdez said. “The copy of that file should reach the Director of Public Order without either Colonel Molina or the Minister of War himself knowing anything about it. Do I make myself understood?”

  “Killing work, Ambrosio,” Ludovico said. “Hours on end losing your voice, your strength, and then along comes someone on the list and he insults you, and Mr. Lozano threatens to cut your pay. Killing for everybody except that horse of an Hipólito. Do you want me to tell you why?”

  “I can’t give you a copy of top-secret files without my superiors’ knowing about it,” Captain Paredes said. “They hold the life and future of every officer and thousands of civilians. It’s like gold in the Central Bank, Mr. Bermúdez.”

  “Yes, you’ll have to go away, but calm down now and have a drink, you poor devil,” Don Fermín said. “Tell me now just what happened. Stop crying.”

  “Precisely, Captain, of course those files are worth their weight in gold,” Bermúdez said. “And your uncle knows that too. The matter has to stay just among those responsible for security. No, it’s not a matter of offending Colonel Molina….”

  “Because after working a guy over for half an hour, that horse of an Hipólito, all of a sudden, boom, he gets all excited,” Ludovico said. “Your morale gets low, you get bored. Not him, boom, he gets all excited. You’ll meet him, you’ll see.”

  “It’s a matter of promoting him,” Bermúdez said. “Giving him the command of a unit, a detachment. And no one will dispute the fact that you’re the person most indicated to take Colonel Molina’s place in charge of security. Then we can merge the services discreetly, Captain.”

  “Not for one night and not for one minute,” Tomasa said. “You’re not going to stay here for one minute. You’re leaving right now, Trifulcio.”

  “You’ve got my uncle in your pocket, friend Bermúdez,” Captain Paredes said. “You’ve only known him for six months and now he trusts you more than he does me. I’m joking, of course, Cayo. It’s time we got on a first-name basis, don’t you think?”

  “They don’t lie because they’re brave, Ambrosio, but because they’re afraid,” Ludovico said. “Just try to see if you can get something out of one of them sometime. Who’s your leader? So-and-so, what’s-his-name. How long have you been an Aprista? I’m not. Then how can you say that so-and-so and what’s-his-name are your leaders? They’re not. Killing, believe me.”

  “Your uncle knows that the survival of the government depends on security,” Bermúdez said. “Everybody’s all applause right now, but pretty soon the tug of war and the battle of interests will start, and because of that everything will depend on what security has done to neutralize ambitious and resentful people.”

  “I don’t plan on staying, I’m just passing through,” Trifulcio said. “I’m going to work for a rich fellow from Ica named Arévalo.
That’s the truth, Tomasa.”

  “I know that quite well,” Captain Paredes said. “When there aren’t any Apristas left, the President will have enemies in the government itself.”

  “Are you a Communist, are you an Aprista? I’m not an Aprista, I’m not a Communist,” Ludovico said. “You’re a sissy, friend, we haven’t touched you and you’re lying already. Like that for hours, whole nights like that, Ambrosio. And that gets Hipólito excited, can you see what kind of a guy he is?”

  “That’s why we have to take the long view,” Bermúdez said. “The most dangerous element today is the civilian sector, tomorrow it’ll be the military. Can you see why there’s so much secrecy about the files?”

  “You didn’t even ask where Perpetuo is buried or whether Ambrosio is still alive,” Tomasa said. “Have you forgotten that you had children?”

  “She was a happy woman who loved life, sir,” Ambrosio said. “The poor woman, hitching up with a guy capable of doing that to his own son. But naturally, if the old woman hadn’t fallen in love with him, I wouldn’t be here today. So it was good for me.”

  “You have to get a house, Cayo, you can’t keep staying at the hotel,” Colonel Espina said. “Besides, it’s absurd for you not to use the car that goes with your being Director of Public Order.”

  “I don’t care about the dead,” Trifulcio said. “But I would like to see Ambrosio. Does he live with you?”

  “The fact is, I’ve never owned a car and, besides, taxis are convenient,” Bermúdez said. “But you’re right, Uplander, I’ll use it. It must be rusting away.”

  “Ambrosio is leaving to look for work in Lima tomorrow,” Tomasa said. “What do you want to see him for?”

  “I didn’t believe that about Hipólito, but it’s true, Ambrosio,” Ludovico said. “I saw it, nobody told me.”

  “You shouldn’t be so modest, make use of your prerogatives,” Colonel Espina said. “You’re shut up in here fifteen hours a day and work isn’t everything in life either. Let your hair down once in a while, Cayo.”

  “Just out of curiosity to see what he’s like,” Trifulcio said. “I’ll see Ambrosio and I promise to leave, Tomasa.”

  “For the first time they gave a guy from Vitarte to the two of us alone,” Ludovico said. “Nobody on the list there to bawl us out, there weren’t enough people. And that’s when I saw it, Ambrosio.”

  “Of course I will, Uplander, but first I’ve got to get a lot of work cleared up,” Bermúdez said. “And I’ll get a house and set myself up in more comfort.”

  “Ambrosio was working here as a long-distance driver,” Tomasa said. “But it’s going to be better for him in Lima and that’s why I’ve pushed him to go.”

  “The President is very pleased with you, Cayo,” Colonel Espina said. “He thanks me more for having recommended you than for all the help I gave him in the revolution, imagine that.”

  “He was hitting him and he began to sweat, hitting him more and sweating more and he hit him so much that the guy began to say crazy things,” Ludovico said. “And all of a sudden I saw his fly puffed up like a balloon. I swear, Ambrosio.”

  “The one coming this way, that big fellow,” Trifulcio said. “Is that Ambrosio?”

  “‘What are you hitting for, you’ve left him half loony, you’ve already sent him off to dreamland,’” Ludovico said. “He wasn’t even listening, Ambrosio. All excited, just like a balloon. Just the way I’m telling you, I swear. You’ll meet him soon enough, I’ll introduce you to him.”

  “Our hopes are with you people now so we can get out of this danger,” Don Fermín said.

  “I recognized you right away,” Trifulcio said. “Come here, Ambrosio, give me a hug, let me take a little look at you.”

  “The government in danger?” Colonel Espina asked. “Are you joking, Don Fermín? If the revolution isn’t sailing along with a good tail wind, how can anybody …?”

  “I would have gone to wait for you,” Ambrosio said. “But I didn’t even know you were getting out.”

  “Fermín is right, Colonel,” Emilio Arévalo said. “Nothing will sail along with a good wind if elections aren’t held and General Odría isn’t returned to power anointed and consecrated by the votes of all Peruvians.”

  “At least you’re not throwing me out like Tomasa,” Trifulcio said. “I thought you were a boy and you’re almost as old as this black father of yours.”

  “Elections are a formality, if you want, Colonel,” Don Fermín said. “But a necessary formality.”

  “You’ve seen him, now be on your way,” Tomasa said. “Ambrosio’s going away tomorrow, he has to pack his things.”

  “And in order to have elections the country has to be pacified, that is, the Apristas all cleaned up,” Dr. Ferro said. “If not, the elections could blow up in our faces like a bomb.”

  “Let’s go have a drink somewhere, Ambrosio,” Trifulcio said. “We’ll talk a little and you can come back and pack your bags.”

  “You haven’t said a word, Mr. Bermúdez,” Emilio Arévalo said. “It would seem that politics bore you.”

  “Do you want to give your son a bad reputation?” Tomasa asked. “Is that why you want people to see him with you on the street?”

  “Not seems, the fact is I am bored by them,” Bermúdez said. “Besides, I don’t understand anything about politics. Don’t laugh, it’s true. That’s why I’d rather just listen.”

  They went along in the dark, through streets that wavered and made sudden turns, among reed huts and a brick house here and there, looking through windows and seeing by the light of candles and lamps hazy silhouettes that chatted as they ate. There was a smell of earth, excrement and grapes.

  “Well, for someone who knows nothing about politics, you’re doing quite well as Director of Security,” Don Fermín said. “Another drink, Don Cayo?”

  They came across a donkey lying in the street, invisible dogs barked at them. They were almost the same height, they went along in silence, the sky had cleared, it was hot, no breeze was blowing. The man resting in his rocking chair got up when he saw them come into the deserted bar, served them beer and sat down again. They clinked glasses in the half-light, still without having spoken to each other.

  “Fundamentally, two things,” Dr. Ferro said. “First, maintaining the team that has taken power. Second, continuing the cleanup with a strong hand. University, unions, administration. Then elections and working for the good of the country.”

  “What would I have liked to have been in life, son?” Ambrosio asks. “A rich guy, naturally.”

  “So you’re going to Lima tomorrow,” Trifulcio said. “What are you going to do there?”

  “For you it’s being happy, son?” Ambrosio asks. “Me too, naturally, but for me being rich and being happy is the same thing.”

  “It’s all a matter of loans and credit,” Don Fermín said. “The United States is ready to help a government that maintains order, that’s why they backed the revolution. Now they want elections and we have to give them what they want.”

  “To look for work there,” Ambrosio said. “You can make more money in the capital.”

  “The gringos believe in formalities, we have to understand them,” Emilio Arévalo said. “They’re happy with the General and all they ask is that democratic forms be preserved. With Odría as an elected president, they’ll open their arms to us and give us all the credit we need.”

  “And how long have you been working as a driver?” Trifulcio asked.

  “But above all we have to bring forward the National Patriotic Front or the Restoration Movement or whatever it’s to be called,” Dr. Ferro said. “That’s why the program is basic and that’s why I insist on it so much.”

  “Two years as a professional,” Ambrosio said. “I started out as a helper, filling in with the driving. Then I was a regular truckdriver and up till now I’ve been driving buses around here, from one district to another.”

  “A patriotic and nationalist program
that would bring together all sound forces,” Emilio Arévalo said. “Industry, commerce, workers, farmers. Based on simple but efficient ideas.”

  “So you’re a serious man, a hard worker,” Trifulcio said. “Tomasa was right in not wanting people to see you with me. Do you think you’ll find work in Lima?”

  “We need something that will remind people of Marshal Benavides’ excellent formula,” Dr. Ferro said. “Order, Peace and Work. I’ve thought of Health, Education, Work. What do you gentlemen think of it?”

  “Do you remember Túmula the milk woman, the daughter she had?” Ambrosio asked. “She married the Vulture’s son. Do you remember the Vulture? I helped his son run away with her.”

  “Of course, the General’s candidacy has to be launched at the highest level,” Emilio Arévalo said. “All sectors would have to proclaim it in a spontaneous way.”

  “The Vulture, the loan shark, the one who was mayor?” Trifulcio asked. “Yes, I remember him.”

  “It’ll be proclaimed, Don Emilio,” Colonel Espina said. “The General’s getting more popular every day. In just a few months people will have seen the tranquillity we have now as opposed to the chaos the country was in with Apristas and Communists loose on the streets.”

  “The Vulture’s son is in the government, he’s important now,” Ambrosio said. “Maybe he’ll help me find work in Lima.”

  “Why don’t just the two of us go have a drink, Don Cayo?” Don Fermín asked. “Haven’t you got a headache from friend Ferro’s speeches? He always leaves me seasick.”

  “If he’s important, he probably won’t want to have anything to do with you,” Trifulcio said. “He’ll look right past you.”

  “With great pleasure, Mr. Zavala,” Bermúdez said. “Yes, Dr. Ferro does talk a lot. But you can see that he’s had experience.”