Dark Benediction

“True,” murmured the priest thoughtfully. “The hallucinations. Tell me something else, if all the world was blind save one man, wouldn’t the world be inclined to call that man’s sight a hallucination? And the man with eyes might even come to agree with the world.”

Again Paul was silent. There was no arguing with Mendelhaus, who probably suffered the strange delusions and thought them real.

“And the craving,” the priest went on. “It’s true that the craving can be a rather unpleasant symptom. It’s the condition’s way of perpetuating itself. Although we’re not certain how it works, it seems able to stimulate erotic sensations in the hands. We do know the microorganisms get to the brain, but we’re not yet sure what they do there.”

“What facts have you discovered?” Paul asked cautiously.

Mendelhaus grinned at him. “Tut! I’m not going to tell you, because I don’t want to be called a ‘crazy dermie.’ You wouldn’t believe me, you see.”

Paul glanced outside and saw that they were approaching the vicinity of the fishing cottage. He pointed out the lamplit window to the driver, and the ambulance turned onto a side road. Soon they were parked behind the shanty. The priests scrambled out and carried the stretcher toward the light, while Paul skulked to a safer distance and sat down in the grass to watch. When Willie was safe in the vehicle, he meant to walk back to the bridge, swim across the gap, and return to the mainland.

Soon Mendelhaus came out and walked toward him with a solemn stride, although Paul was sitting quietly in the deepest shadow—invisible, he had thought. He arose quickly as the priest approached. Anxiety tightened his throat. “Is she… is Willie… ?”

“She’s irrational,” Mendelhaus murmured sadly. “Almost… less than sane. Some of it may be due to high fever, but…”

“Yes?”

“She tried to kill herself. With a knife. Said something about buckshot being the best way, or something…”

“Jeezis! Jeezis!” Paul sank weakly in the grass and covered his face with his hands.

“Blessed be His Holy Name,” murmured the priest by way of turning the oath aside. “She didn’t hurt herself badly, though. Wrist’s cut a little. She was too weak to do a real job of it. Father Will’s giving her a hypo and a tetanus shot and some sulfa. We’re out of penicillin.”

He stopped speaking and watched Paul’s wretchedness for a moment. “You love the girl, don’t you?”

Paul stiffened. “Are you crazy? Love a little tramp dermie? Jeezis…”

“Blessed be—”

“Listen! Will she be all right? I’m getting out of here!” He climbed unsteadily to his feet.

“I don’t know, son. Infection’s the real threat, and shock. If we’d got to her sooner, she’d have been safer. And if she was in the ultimate stage of neuroderm, it would help.”

“Why?”

“Oh, various reasons. You’ll learn, someday. But listen, you look exhausted. Why don’t you come back to the hospital with us? The third floor is entirely vacant. There’s no danger of infection up there, and we keep a sterile room ready just in case we get a nonhyper case. You can lock the door inside, if you want to, but it wouldn’t be necessary. Nuns are on the floor below. Our male staff lives in the basement. There aren’t any laymen in the building. I’ll guarantee that you won’t be bothered.”

“No, I’ve got to go,” he growled, then softened his voice: “I appreciate it though, Father.”

“Whatever you wish. I’m sorry, though. You might be able to provide yourself with some kind of transportation if you waited.”

“Uh-uh! I don’t mind telling you, your island makes me jumpy.”

“Why?”

Paul glanced at the priest’s gray hands. “Well… you still feel the craving, don’t you?”

Mendelhaus touched his nose. “Cotton plugs, with a little camphor. I can’t smell you.” He hesitated. “No, I won’t lie to you. The urge to touch is still there to some extent.”

“And in a moment of weakness, somebody might—”

The priest straightened his shoulders. His eyes went chilly. “I have taken certain vows, young man. Sometimes when I see a beautiful woman, I feel desire. When I see a man eating a thick steak on a fast-day, I feel envy and hunger. When I see a doctor earning large fees, I chafe under the vow of poverty. But by denying desire’s demands, one learns to make desire useful in other ways. Sublimation, some call it. A priest can use it and do more useful work thereby. I am a priest.”

He nodded curtly, turned on his heel and strode away. Halfway to the cottage, he paused. “She’s calling for someone named Paul. Know who it might be? Family perhaps?”

Paul stood speechless. The priest shrugged and continued toward the lighted doorway.

“Father, wait…”

“Yes?”

“I—I am a little tired. The room… I mean, will you show me where to get transportation tomorrow?”

“Certainly.”