Pepita Jiménez

Pepita Jiménez is a 19^th century Spanish novel by Juan Valera. The story is about a young seminarian (priest-in-training), Don Luis de Vargas, and a passionate young widow, Pepita Jiménez, who fall in love. Don Luis, then, is forced to choose between his vocation and his love for Pepita.

I had to read an excerpt of it in a 19^th and 20^th century literature class I was taking while studying abroad in Spain. I was so entranced by the excerpt that I bought the book and read the entire thing. The book has a special place in my heart, not only because I loved the story, but because it was the first time I was able to read an entire work in Spanish on my own. I had finally gotten to a point where I didn't need a dictionary—I was able to read, understand and enjoy a work of literature in a foreign language. It was one of the most exciting experiences in my life.

I let someone borrow the book a while ago and when I finally got it back yesterday, I immediately succumbed to the urge to find the passage in the book that first enamored me. They're the impassioned words of Pepita after Don Luis suggests that the only way they can love each other is through a pure, spiritual, divine love of the soul after they get to Heaven (translated by yours truly):

"Oh, Don Luis!" replied Pepita, completely disconsolate and sorrowful, "Now I know how vile is the metal of which I am forged and how unworthy I am of that which penetrates and moves the divine fire. I will declare to you everything, divulging even unto shame. I am an infernal sinner. My crude and ignorant spirit cannot achieve those subtleties, those distinctions, those refinements of love. My rebellious will negates what you propose. I can't even conceive of you apart from what makes you. For me, you are your mouth, your eyes, your dark locks; which I wish to caress with my hands, your sweet voice and the pleasant accent of your words which literally wound yet enchant my ears; your whole bodily form, in sum, that enamors and seduces me, through which, and that only through which shows me the invisible spirit, vague and full of mysteries. My soul, unwilling and incapable of those rapturous mysteries, cannot ever follow you to those regions where you want to bring it. If you rise to those places, I will be left alone, abandoned, plunged in the deepest affliction. I prefer to die. I deserve death; I desire it. Perhaps upon dying, detaching or breaking these dreadful chains which detain my soul, it will be able to love with the kind of love you wish us to have. But kill me first, so that we can love that way; kill me first and, then, spirit freed, it will follow you everywhere and will travel with you invisibly by your side, watching over you in your sleep, thinking of you in bliss, penetrating your most hidden thoughts, truly seeing your soul, without the interference of the senses. But alive, it cannot be. I love in you, not only your soul, but your body, the shadow of your body, the reflection of your body in mirrors and in the water, your name and your last name, your blood, and all of which makes you don Luis de Vargas; the timbre of your voice, your gestures, the way you walk and I don't know what else to say. I repeat that you must kill me. Kill me mercilessly. No, I'm no Christian, but rather a carnal idolater."

Here Pepita made a long pause. Don Luis didn't know what to say and was quiet. Tears bathed Pepita's cheeks and she continued, crying:

"I know; you look down upon me, and you do well in looking down on me. With this just contempt, you shall kill me better than you would with a knife, staining neither your hands nor your conscience with blood. Goodbye. Free yourself from my contemptible presence. Goodbye forever."

Having said this, Pepita got up from her seat and without looking back, her eyes filled with tears, beside herself, with hasty steps flung herself towards the door to the rooms within. Don Luis felt an invincible tenderness, a fatal pity. He was afraid that Pepita would die. He rose up to stop her, but he was too late. Pepita had passed through the doorway. Her figure was lost in the darkness. Swept up by what seemed a superhuman power, propelled by what seemed an invisible hand, he went after Pepita into the shadowy chamber.

P.S. After I translated that, I discovered that there is an online translation of the entire novel here. Of course, I went to Chapter IX of Part II (starting with para. 35) and compared my translation to it. I didn't do too bad. I guess mine is more literal whereas the online one took a few more liberties than I did so that it would flow better in English.