Original subtitles

Professor Stoner had been strangely

secretive about what we would see at the top

of the buried pyramid.

He wanted to surprise us, and as it turned out, he succeeded.

It was a frightening climb at a dizzy angle.

The steep shallow steps were negotiated, no doubt,

more readily by the bare feet of the ancient Indians of Mexico

than by our modern shoes.

The tunnel staircase was dark, the stone smooth and slippery.

A misstep could have led to a fearful, perhaps, fatal accident.

Professor Stoner led the way, enjoying in advance

the shock that awaited us.

I did not sense in his attitude any hint

of what was perhaps already germinating

in his brilliant mind.

For in spite of the fame won by his archaeological discoveries

in the rich soil of Mexico, he'd remained simple, gentle,

and lovable, his charm unspoiled by an erudition

that ranged over the whole field of human knowledge.

The strain of mysticism in his thinking

seemed a natural expression of his bold and original intellect.

I had a vast admiration for him.

29.

30.

31.

We're halfway up.

There are 62 steps in all.

How many are on the outer pyramid?

95.

Well, how long do we have to do?

We dug down through the floor of the

until we found the inner chamber,

and we tunneled up from below to reach it.

What a job.

It's harder than walking up with a flashlight.

Well, what are we going to see? Is the climb worth it?

You'll have to decide that for yourself.

Some of my colleagues consider it

the most startling discovery in the whole of Mexican archeology.

I hope I'm not so startled I fall down these steps.

You'll survive, I think.

You're all right, Juanita?

- You're not scared? - No.

I suppose your father told you what you'd see.

I asked him not to.

I wanted it to be a surprise.

He didn't tell me.

Did you want to rest a bit?

Ooh, brother.

Don't look down, it's the worst thing you could possibly do.

Am I too loud?

Just keep your eyes on the step you're taking.

We're getting there.

Are you ready?

This better be good.

I give you something to write about?

Was it worth the trip to Mexico City?

What is it?

It's not alive or anything, it can't eat you.

Juanita!

Juanita!

Juanita!

Father!

Father!

Father!

Father!

What is it, Juanita?

I want my father!

The jaguar in the buried temple.

It scared her, so she ran down.

It's a miracle she didn't break her neck.

I should have warned her.

I never dreamed it would frighten her so.

Well, it's pretty ferocious when you come on it unexpectedly.

- You left this behind. - Thank you.

I'm afraid this tour just finished with the buried

bouncing down the stairs.

We ought to have told her what to expect.

I had no idea how she'd be so frightened.

You're so scared of a stone jaguar, honey, then what will

ever you do with a live one?

Don't speak of it.

Are you better now?

I don't know why it frightened me so.

The blue of the temple walls come up on your dress.

It was a mortal color with your ancestors.

They painted their sacrifices blue.

Oh, two grown men playing such tricks on a young girl.

Of course, you were frightened, darling.

Who wouldn't be?

I'm just going to take a look at the new trench.

I shan't be long.

What you need is a bowl of good, hot soup.

According to my wife, there’s no situation that can't be

remedied by a bowl of hot soup.

Well, I could do with one myself.

I'll join you in a moment.

Your soup is good medicine, Elena.

Now, I recognize the girl I used to know.

Terry thinks I'm still eight years old.

I'm a grown woman now, Terry.

You may be a woman, but you're no lady.

Ladies don't sit on gentlemen's laps.

At least not in public.

May I in private?

I'll spank you, you trollop.

Will you, Terry?

If he doesn't, I will.

Do you mind cleaning this stone, Manuel?

I think we ought to have a look at it.

Give me a kiss, Elena, darling.

I kiss you later when you're cleaner.

Behave yourself, Alfred!

You're recovered, Juanita?

Quite.

You'd hardly think that half an hour

ago, she was running for her life from a stone idol.

What do you think, Manuel?

How do you expect your daughter's reaction to our jaguar?

It's a ferocious-looking object.

Ugly as old sin, and it scared her.

You're wrong, Manuel.

It's not ugly, it's beautiful.

As powerful things are.

But even if you are right, that's hardly an adequate explanation.

How's your domino game, Juanita?

Has it improved since you were eight?

I ought to play now.

Nonsense.

It's your vacation.

You're here to enjoy yourself.

You have a theory about Juanita and the jaguar?

Yes, Manuel, but you wouldn't agree with it.

It's not scientific.

Your theories rarely are, Alfred.

Girls of her age were sacrificed to the jaguar god

on the top of that pyramid ten centuries ago.

They were painted blue for the occasion with a piece

cut with an obsidian knife

and tore the living heart out of them

as an offering to the idol.

You don't have to be so bloodthirsty about it.

Alfred's naturally bloodthirsty.

Human sacrifice is a subject.

It's food and drink to him. It's food to the ancients, too.

They hid the bodies after the ritual.

The chief cut the fiber.

Incredible that a culture so advanced

could have been so cruel.

Why not, cultured Terry?

Doesn't it present the same paradox?

Beauty and cruelty, the sick and the diabolic,

the dreadful coexistence of all times as in all cultures?

Considering her ancestor, Juanita

may have a racial memory of such ancient sacrifices.

That sounds plausible but not demonstrable, and therefore,

of no interest to a scientist.

What do you think, Juanita?

Does it correspond at all to what you felt when you saw the jaguar?

Uh, I'm not sure.

I don't think so.

The jaguar counts as the oldest, most persistent in Mexico.

To this day, the Indian mothers make the children

behave by telling them the jaguar will get them,

just as we threaten ours with the bogeyman.

Juanita's mother, god rest her sweet soul,

may have tried to dispirit her the same way.

Do you recall anything like that, Juanita?

I don't believe so.

She was only an infant, of course, and wouldn't remember.

But the fear may have lingered in her subconscious mind.

It's possible certainly.

My wife was too intelligent to fight Juanita

with silly superstitions.

Superstition is the name that science gives to truth.

May I quote that?

If that appears in Time magazine,

the whole archaeological fraternity

will descend on my shoulders, but quote me if you'd like.

Don't, Terry.

He doesn't mean it.

But I do.

How do you suppose I find the buried pyramid in the temple

with a jaguar in it?

How did you?

By believing in what Manuel called superstition.

I heard the Indian mothers threaten

their children with jaguar in the hill,

and I took them at their word.

I dug into it and there, by all the gods of the Mayan calendar,

was the jaguar himself in the buried pyramid.

It was brilliant of you, Alfred.

No one will deny that.

The Indians believed there's a living god in that stone idol,

and who are we to say they're wrong?

Don't scoff, Manuel.

The legends are bound in such divine petrifactions

from the book of the.

I'm ready to believe that Juanita with a second sight of her ancestors

could see the living demon in the stone.

But what she saw was far more terrifying than the sculpture

we see with our more limited vision.

She saw him there--

the jaguar god incarnate.

And she trembled with terror and ran for her life.

Oh, heaven preserve us.

Is he serious, Manuel?

You can never be sure with Alfred.

He enjoys being provocative.

I'm not impressed by your incarnate jaguar,

and I don't need him to explain why Juanita was frightened.

You should have more respect for the jaguar, Manuel.

We're surrounded by jaguars.

We counted 28 of them in the temple of the tigers.

you wouldn't be angry.

Jaguar's a powerful demon.

Could exact a ghastly vengeance.

I'll take my chances with the ancient beast.

Take a look at this stone, Alfred.

There's something on it, but it's worn so thin,

I can't make it out.

The tortilla is the latest tool of the archaeologist.

It's a jaguar, of course.

I'm afraid I've lost my skill at dominoes.

Have I the sign as permission to take his daughter to the fiesta

in the hacienda tomorrow?

Oh, yes, Daddy, yes.

Take her, Terry.

Will clear her mind of this gruesome nonsense.

As for your jaguar, Alfred, here's what I think of him.

You may have some trouble digesting that.

Don't be too late, darling.

I won't.

Thank you.

Oh, no, no.

Terry!

Are you all right, now?

I think so.

You see how alive he is, that old jaguar?

Have you had enough fiesta?

After 400 years of Christian teaching,

the god of the jaguars, the Festival of St. Francis.

But Juanita, those dances weren't ferocious.

Why are you so frightened of them?

I can't imagine.

We were having such fun.

Forgive me, Terry.

But I've had a wonderful time.

There's something about Juanita and the jaguar.

I'm sure of it.

Something ancient and mysterious.

If there is, it's because you put the stuff of nightmares in her head.

It is strange, Terry.

I'm not usually frightened so easily, there is something.

I don't believe it.

When you're back in school, you'll laugh about it.

I laugh now.

Well, that's better.

Look.

Isn't he adorable?

Terry?

- Juanita? - Yes.

Turn your back.

You shouldn't sleep naked, Terry.

Mosquitoes, ticks, tarantulas.

It's safe enough with the netting.

What on earth are you doing here at this time of night?

In your night gown and bare feet and the ground

alive with scorpions?

Supposed you stepped on one?

All right, you can look now.

I couldn't sleep.

I had to talk to you.

Well, what have you to talk about that couldn't wait until morning?

Here, put these on.

It's about us.

You and me.

Well, what is there about you and me

that calls for discussion in the middle of the night?

Do you think I'm pretty, Terry?

Certainly not.

I'm very pretty.

Everyone says so.

Your ears are too big, your eyes are too small,

your nose is crooked, you've got barbed wire

on your head instead of hair.

Shall I go on?

You think of me as a child, but I'm not.

Look.

You want to be slapped.

Do it, Terry, if you like.

What's come over you, Juanita?

I love you.

I love you so terribly, I ache with it.

Now, do you believe I'm grown up?

You're angry because you love me.

If you didn't love me, you wouldn't be angry.

You have an adolescent infatuation,

and you think it's love.

You'll grow out of it.

I have loved you since I was eight,

and I will love you till I'm eighty.

I think you love me, too, only you won't admit it.

A Mexican girl of good family coming to a man's room

in the middle of the night in her nightgown--

it's inconceivable!

What do you suppose your father would do

if he found you here like this?

- Here, put this on. - I'm not cold.

I'm not thinking of the temperature, I've got to keep you decent.

Someone's coming.

Are you awake, Terry?

Come in, Manuel.

I couldn't sleep. I saw your light.

I thought we might talk.

Course.

If you don't mind, I'm not disturbing you?

Not at all.

It's about Juanita.

You know my wife.

Juanita's mother died when Juanita was four.

I know.

We-- we were very much in love.

Juanita can hardly remember her mother.

Yet, she has so many of the same mannerisms.

Her way of walking, of standing-- it

makes me catch my breath sometimes.

Yes.

Sometimes it's difficult to express a sentiment

to your own flesh and blood.

I can tell you, but I can't tell her how much she means to me.

I understand.

I won't say my life hasn’t been a lonely one,

but I've had my work.

And the happiness of seeing my daughter grow up.

You never thought of marrying again?

Once.

Some years ago.

But I wasn't sure it would be good for Juanita.

I see.

You know, Juanita's in love with you.

She fell in love with you in a way when you

first came to Mexico years ago.

But she was only a child.

She feels the same today, and she’s not a child any longer.

I have an idea you're not indifferent to her.

I love her dearly.

Enough to marry her?

She's so young!

Her mother was only a year older when we were married.

Well, it may be no more than an infatuation.

She's not really old enough to know her own mind.

Juanita won't change, she's like her mother.

Where her heart is fixed, there it remains.

You're surprised that a father should

make such a proposal for his daughter,

above all a Mexican father.

It's just that I'm worried about Juanita.

Oh, I understand that.

She's high-strung, moody, impulsive.

Gay and sad by turns.

I know that's part of growing up, but it troubles me.

The business with the jaguar.

I don't put any stock in Alfred's speculations.

It's just that Juanita’s emotionally a little unstable.

Marriage would be good for her.

It would be a steadying influence.

And later on with children of her own--

what I'm trying to say is, if it were you, I should be happy.

Well, there is something I haven’t told you, Manuel.

- Another girl? - No, not that.

Well, then?

I'm going away to Korea.

As a soldier?

Nothing so heroic.

As a reporter.

How long will you be gone?

Well, I'm not optimistic about the situation.

It could run on for quite a while.

You couldn't take her with you?

I'm afraid not, but when it's over,

I'll get another assignment in Mexico.

Juanita will be older, maybe better in any case.

She'll probably meet some handsome boy at the university

and fall in love in the meantime.

I don't think that's likely.

Tell us Juanita.

Would you wait for Terry to come back from Korea?

If I didn't know you, if I didn't know him.

When a child has no mother--

it's not your fault. I don't blame you.

Only myself.

Forgive me, father!

Get on my back.

I'll carry you to your bed.

We can't have you walking in your bare feet,

the place is alive with scorpions.

Suppose you stepped on one?

Can't see what's funny about that.

You won't be leaving immediately?

I have several days.

Maybe a week, we'll have time to talk.

- Good night then. - Good night.

- Good night, Juanita. - Buena noches, mi vida.

Will he come back, father?

Yes, he'll come back.

How's it going, Manuel?

Fine.

Where's Juanita?

I think you'll find her at the cenote.

OK, Pedro!

What are you doing over here all by yourself?

I like it here!

I am alone and I can sing.

I sing out loud, and no one can hear me.

Except the parakeets and iguanas.

There's one over here listening.

They look downright Darwinian.

They ought to be extinct like the dinosaur

and the pterodactyl.

I think they're sweet!

I'd like one for a pet.

The neighbors might object.

Why do you sing so loud?

I thought that sort of thing was reserved for extroverts

and shower baths.

You know what I'm doing?

No, what are you doing?

I'm making you breakfast while you sing in the shower.

What am I having for breakfast?

Orange juice, cantaloupe, bacon and eggs, hotcakes, waffles,

sausages, toast, and coffee.

No kipper?

You're starving me.

This cenote is spooky.

It's just a pool of water.

Cenote is the word for one.

It was a sacred word.

You know what they use it for?

That's what virgins think to eat to appease the rain god.

- That doesn't disturb you? - Why should it?

Oh, so you're willing to be sacrificed to the rain god,

but you're terrified of the jaguar.

Yes.

I've written a poem for you, because you're going away.

It's called "Parting."

"When, when shall we meet, like days of sun and rain,

sad joy and joy is pain, canst my heart still beat?"

What song is that?

That's a beautiful song.

I want to learn it.

Elena's soup is waiting.

Come on.

Manuel!

Don't look, Juanita.

Don't look.

When the broken body of his friend had been taken away,

the professor asked me to return with him

to the scene of the tragedy.

I observed then for the first time something extraordinary

which has escaped me before.

A jaguar with a human heart in its claw

was carved on the monumental stone.

Our reason tells us it's a coincidence,

this jaguar on the stone that killed my friend.

You don't think so?

You take refuge in a word to escape

from a monstrous reality.

You seriously believe that supernatural forces

had something to do with this accident?

There are no coincidences, no accidents.

I loved Manuel.

I saw him every day for 20 years,

and he kept my feet on the ground,

even when my head was in the clouds.

But if he had listened to my fantasies as he called them,

this need never have happened, while I'd still have my friend.

How could he have listened, or any reasonable man for that matter?

Manuel was not killed by the stone that crushed him.

The stone was the instrument of a deeper purpose.

What purpose?

Manuel was killed by the disease of our time,

which believes in flying saucers and has no faith.

A world without faith and devout humility

will surely perish as my friend did,

from the presumption of which the gods inspire

those they wish to destroy.

Strange words coming from a scientist.

The deeper that science probes, the more mysterious life becomes.

Even the scientists are returning

to the mystic philosophies like those of India,

which have something in common with the beliefs

of ancient Mexico.

The Mayans, too, believed in the soul and reincarnation.

You sound as if you believe in it.

I do.

Alfred wants to say something to you, Juanita.

It's something we've talked about, Elena and I. Your father--

your father was my friend for 17 years.

Your mother was the friend of both of us

even before you were born.

We had such wonderful times together, your parents,

Elena and I. And now, you--

you're all alone.

Elena and I have no children.

We want you to feel that you're our daughter now,

just as if you really were our daughter.

It would make us so happy if you would agree to this.

When we get to Mexico City, I cook you

a bowl of wonderful hot soup.

Now, you are crying, and that's good.

Mexico, Mexico, ra, ra, ra!

If I had not gone to Korea, if I had yielded to the impulse

to marry Juanita when she was alone and might have needed me,

perhaps the death of Manuel would not have

had so violent a.

But it did not occur to me that Juanita

would be anything but safe with the professor and his wife.

During my absence, the University of Mexico

had acquired a beautiful new home,

but the professor was now lecturing.

I had the exciting experience of driving through University

City, as it is known, on my way to the professor's

house, which was nearby.

Unique architectural genius of Mexico,

both ancient and modern, had expressed

itself dramatically in the design

of this great, new university.

I was not at all prepared for this strange situation

I've found.

It was reassuring to see that Elena, at any rate,

had not changed.

Have you been to the university?

Have you seen Alfred?

Well, I went through on my way, but I didn't stop.

I came straight here.

He may be at his museum.

He's usually there in the afternoon

when he isn't working on his book.

His classes are in the morning.

- He's well, then? - Oh, yes, quite well.

Alfred!

This is where he writes.

He's almost finished his book.

Has he given it a title?

"A History of Human Sacrifice."

It represents his whole life's research.

Isn't that the jaguar from the buried temple?

He persuaded the government to let him borrow it.

Later on, it’s going into the national museum.

What does he want it for?

He's been fascinated by jaguars ever since--

since Manuel was killed by it.

You'll probably find him in the zoo right now..

He goes there in the afternoon when

he isn't working on his book.

What does he do at the zoo?

It relaxes him, he says, and he has a friend there.

Not in a cage, I hope.

It is in a cage.

Fortunately, it's a jaguar.

Yes, he talks Mayan to it.

Huh.

Sounds like he's going out of his mind.

Sometimes I think so.

He says it's not an ordinary jaguar.

He is the living incarnation of the jaguar

god in that stone idol.

Ah, he's joking, of course.

I've been married to Alfred for almost 30 years,

and I'm not sure yet when he’s joking and when he's serious.

Come and see Juanita.

Isn't she at the university?

She's in her room, in bed.

Is she ill?

She's right there now, but sometimes she's too late to get

up and go to her classes.

- What is it? What's wrong? - The doctors don't know.

They can't find anything wrong.

Alfred has a theory about it.

Surprise me if he hasn't-- what does he think it is?

Loss of soul sickness.

Loss of soul sickness?

What on earth is that?

It's described in the books of the ancient Indians.

They believed you could lose your soul from pride or someone

could steal it from you.

Some ghost in need of a soul or a..

- From fright? - Yes.

Alfred thinks it happened when she

was so frightened of the jaguar in the buried temple.

It's a lingering disease, you don't die of it.

And what, say, how you can get your soul back again?

Juanita!

You can get your soul back if you conjure up the ghosts,

so that destroyed.

Evil must be brought into the open, Alfred says.

It is the way you're facing reality instead

of running away from it.

Kind of magical psychoanalysis.

Oh, Terry.

Terry.

Elena told me I might find you here.

again.

I want to ride the train.

I remember the thrill I once had ringing that bell.

Well, I'm in love with this place.

Oh, it's enchanting.

I come here so often, I believe the animals recognize me.

At least there's one that does.

I want you to meet him.

It's a pity that they have to be in cages.

Aren't we all?

We're in the revolving squirrel cage of our inheritance.

Wheel of destiny, as they called it in India,

from which only a divine aspiration can set us free at last.

You haven't changed, I see.

Yes, but the animals are in real cages, and I'm sorry for them.

Do they mind terribly, do you think?

There's one that does.

- Balam doesn't like his cage. - Balam?

It's the Mayan word for jaguar.

I don't suppose he'll upset you, Juanita.

I don't think so.

Well, I know how you used to feel about jaguar.

They used to worship him, make sacrifices to him.

Now, he's shut up in the cage.

It's humiliating, and he doesn't like it.

Well, he has to be caged or killed, I imagine.

Yes, because he's evil.

He's the demon of darkness.

We know he swallowed the sun four times

and brought dreadful calamities to the world,

until the plumed serpent, Kukulkan, the great, good god,

shot him up like Lucifer in the pit of hell.

Here he is.

He seems to know you, Juanita.

Don't be upset, he can't get out.

Come on.

Well, we can be glad that one's in a cage.

I've never known him behave like that before.

Can't think what's possessed him.

Come on. My car's right outside.

Alfred's working, I won't disturb him.

He's in good spirits, since the day you arrived.

But Juanita-- it's no wonder she's awake.

She's hardly eaten a thing for days.

Got to strengthen those hands.

She's always been musical since she was a child,

but I don't know how she stays alive.

She doesn't even taste my soup.

I have to eat it all myself.

- Would you like some? - No, I've had dinner.

I'm worried about Alfred, too.

What's wrong with Alfred?

He goes out somewhere by himself late at night.

Last night, he didn't get in until 3 o'clock.

He wouldn't tell me where he'd been.

You don't think there is another woman?

Oh, I shouldn't think so.

What do you suppose he is up to prowling around

in the middle of the night?

He's probably having an affair with the night-blooming cereus.

What's that?

It's a flower that blooms late at night, one night a year.

It takes some watching, and you'll miss it.

He's never been interested in botany.

Well, it's something innocent and scientific,

you can be sure of that.

Then, why does he keep it a secret?

Why doesn't he tell me about it?

Because it's more fun to keep you guessing I imagine.

Look at me.

Oh, you're dramatizing it, darling, beyond all reason.

I can't get it out of my mind.

Go dancing with me tonight.

No place elegant.

Go dancing with our hair down and our shoes off.

Can you dance the?

No, but I'm willing to learn.

We'll see if we can't get your mind out

of this groove it's caught in.

Juanita loved to dance.

She seemed happy at last, her frightening experience

with the jaguar forgotten.

It was as if she and I alone were alive

and all the others no more than ghostly figures.

My doubts fell away.

I knew that I wanted more than anything else

to keep her as happy always as she was at this moment.

It's peaceful here.

Yes.

I've been happy tonight.

So happy.

I love you, Juanita.

I've wanted so much to hear you say that.

It isn't easy to say it.

I know.

What is it?

Will you marry me?

It's all I've ever wanted.

Well, what's troubling you?

You haven't changed your mind about me?

Only to love you more.

And I didn't think that was possible.

Well, then.

This Illness I have--

even the doctor don't understand it.

I-- I-- thought sometimes that I have no right to marry,

that I'd be a burden or trouble.

And I want to be a joy, only a joy to you.

You know you are.

Don't say anything to Alfred or Elena.

I have an intuition about it.

Almost a premonition, I can't explain it.

Be patient with me, darling.

I'm so happy just knowing you love me.

I won't say a word until you tell me.

Alfred's working late tonight.

Let's say goodnight to him.

Of course.

He's not here.

His car's gone.

Well, he left the light in the museum.

Where would he go at this hour of the night?

I can't imagine.

There's no sign of him.

I'm not sure he'd like you coming here when he's away.

I wonder what he's up to.

It's not the first time.

Elena worries about it.

I know.

But he doesn't bother you anymore does he, that old jaguar?

I've grown accustomed to it.

I think perhaps my father, if he had lived--

Yes, there's no question that Manuel

kept him from going overboard.

Listen to this.

"It is easy for people who see the world die and renew itself

year after year to transfer their observations to the soul

and believe in reincarnation.

It is a belief common to all religions

in one form or another, because it answers a universal need.

The Greeks created for it the symbol of the phoenix,

eternally born again from its own ashes."

He's marked a passage here in Plato.

"The soul can wear out many bodies."

What is it?

It's very strange.

You might have posed for it.

It's Alfred.

- Alfred? - Well, Terry.

We saw your light and thought you were working.

We dropped in to say good night.

Where have you children been at this hour?

We wondered the same thing about you.

We've been dancing.

I've got something quite remarkable to show you.

It's extraordinary, don't you think?

It could be a portrait.

There are some people in whom the past is alive,

recreated in some curious and significant way,

and I believe that Juanita is one of them.

I'm glad you're here, Terry, because I want you to help me

move the old jaguar, so that he faces

this ancient image of Juanita.

They were contemporaries, no doubt of it.

And the odd thing is they still are, that both of them

are alive today.

"The soul can wear out many bodies."

- Plato said that. - Yeah.

- You know your pages are well? - I saw the passage you marked.

So I have no secrets from you.

On the contrary.

Where do you go so late at night all by yourself?

I think I'll keep that secret.

Good night, Terry.

Good night, Alfred.

Good night, darling.

Juanita.

Thank you, Terry, for trying.

Come in here, will you, Terry?

I need your help.

A confrontation consummate dafter centuries.

Give me a hand, will you?

"Tyger Tyger, burning bright, in the forests of the night;

what immortal hand and I, framed by a fearful symmetry?"

A magnificent poem.

The most profound in the language, perhaps

in any language.

You're covering a lot of territory, aren't you?

Not a lot of reason-- to break the tiger

was the eternal symbol of evil.

Did he who made the lamb make thee?

Exactly.

When was the problem of evil more beautifully expressed?

The soul of evil, hence, the mortalities, whether imprisoned

in idols or incarnate in cages.

But one day to be free again, the Tyger burning right,

to seek its unravished sacrifice, the incarnate maiden.

Juanita and the jaguar.

And how is she to be delivered from the foul fiend?

By some unsung.

Some obscure St. George.

Out of the naked sphere of truth,

this legendary chant of King Arthur's Excalibur

and with a name perhaps no more heroic than Terry.

The resembles unfortunately is less

striking than that of Juanita to this old clay figure.

But tell me, will the hero marry the maiden

and take half the kingdom?

And where is he to find a magic sword in this day and age?

An old wizard will give it to him.

The jaguar is the demon that must be destroyed

by each generation all over again,

because the world is no better than the individuals in it.

Save the world, we would save ourselves.

Have you a practical suggestion?

The perennial jaguar is locked in the cage by a personality.

The evil within us that devours our soul.

We must let him out, face him, and conquer him, before we

can call our soul our own.

But when all the dragons are slain, what are we to do for heroes?

In utopia, there are no heroes.

There, that does it.

Since you've been looking at my papers,

perhaps you might care to come to the university on Wednesday

to hear my lecture on human sacrifice.

Juanita will be there.

Is it necessary for her to be there?

Don't you think the subject might upset her?

Attendance is required of my students.

I don't see how I could make an exception

in the case of Juanita, unless, of course, she's ill.

Well, if she feels well enough, I'll bring her.

I have anyway.

May I bring a photographer?

Of course.

I made up my mind to follow the professor

and discover, if I could, what he was up to at such an hour

and in such secrecy.

I had lost sight of him while circling one of Mexico City's

glorietas, but it was already apparent to me

that he was on his way to Chapultepec Park.

I knew then where I ought to look for him.

Buenas noches, Balam.

He had secured a key to the gate and the wire fence

rounding the cage.

The thought moved like a ghost through my mind

that he might be able, then, to obtain

a key to the cage itself.

A chill of premonition shivered through me.

I tried to tell myself that my fears were fantastic,

but I made a resolution to take Juanita

away as soon as I could from this oppressive atmosphere.

What would you do if I were to let you out?

Where would you go?

It was later than I thought.

The Carthaginians sent their first born

to the hungry deity Balack.

The innocent victims placed on the sloping arms of this brass

idol rolled down into the blazing belly of the god, whose

powers were doubtfully restored by this nourishment

to repel the enemies of the city and win new conquest

for mighty Carthage.

The cretin monster known as the minotaur inhabited

the labyrinth and was regaled by periodical sacrifices

of Athenian youths and maidens, until the hero,

Theseus, the original matador, destroyed the beasts

and put an end to the tribute.

The legend obviously derives from an ancient practice

of human sacrifice to an animal divinity.

The practice of human sacrifice died hard

amongst the ancient Hebrews.

Jehovah demanded the sacrifice of Abraham's only son, Isaac,

as a burnt offering.

But that story, as we all know, had a happy ending.

Once the piety of the patriarch had been adequately

demonstrated by his willingness to give his son to the Lord,

Jehovah allowed a ram to be burned in his stead.

This is a reference to the transition which

took place in most early religions between human and animal sacrifice.

The gladiatorial contests of imperial Rome

were a survival of an ancient form of sacrifice

in which the victim was allowed to defend

himself against hopeless odds.

No doubt there was some satisfaction to these brave man to die fighting.

In Western Europe, the druids put cattle, sheep, chickens,

and human beings into gigantic, wicked images,

which were then burned with their living contents.

I made no reference to Africa, New Guinea, Australia,

or the islands of the South Seas,

where ritual cannibalism was widely practiced.

The most systematic use of human sacrifice

was, as we have seen, no tin primitive but in highly

developed cultures.

Practice, however, dates back to the darkest antiquity.

This stylized human frame, which I borrowed from the National

Museum, comes from New Guinea.

The body was designed to hold in the socket to the neck

the skull of a human sacrifice.

The skull which you see is that of a veritable victim.

It's reasonable to assume that the art

of sculpture originated with functional

use in such magical ceremonies.

The rites included chanting, percussive music, and dancing,

together with old invocations.

And so lead in times the invention of the other arts

as attributes of ceremonial magic.

Perhaps that's why today when we see a work of art,

we say it casts a spell over us.

This is not a figure of speech but a statement of fact.

Human sacrifice was inspired by the most

profound of hopes and fears--

the underlying principle being that individuals

should give their lives for the benefit of the whole community.

In this sense, the death of a soldier in modern warfare

may be considered sacrificial.

Perhaps in a more enlightened future,

the bloody wars of so-called civilized nations

would look upon the same incredulous revulsion

with which we dare regard the ritual sacrifices performed

by so-called primitive peoples.

The practice of capital punishment,

still unfortunately prevalent in much of the civilized world,

is the survival of human sacrifice.

Even though in this case, the goddess of justice

takes the place of a less abstract divinity.

Even the rudest, most barbaric origins, the most

sublime development's a puzzle.

Jesus suffered on the cross in order to take upon himself

the sins of mankind.

He died for all of us and by his voluntary agony

on Calvary redeemed the world.

In the ceremony of the communion and in the symbolism

of the host and the chalice, we may see the ultimate apotheosis

and sublimation of all the vain gropings and aspirations of man

toward divinity.

From that pinnacle of holy love and charity,

we may look back without despair on the long history

of human cruelty.

I've spoken of the practice of human sacrifice

by nearly every ancient race and religion in order

to avoid any feeling of self-righteousness over its use

here in Mexico, where it reach edits extreme expression among

the Aztecs five centuries ago.

The art of pre-conquest Mexico was

as magnificent and inventive as any of the world

has seen, not accepting that of Egypt, Greece, India,

China, and Western Europe.

Yet, with it went this cruel ritual,

creating a paradox of culture not unique to Mexican but universal.

All right, Carlos, start the Mexican slides.

The gods of ancient Mexico demanded from mankind the most

precious gift he had to offer--

human life.

And from the human body, they required the most vital organ--

the heart.

Four priests held the victim spread-eagled

over the sacrificial stone, while a fifth cut open

the breast and ripped the living heart from the body,

which was afterwards ceremonially burnt

and offered to the god.

The sacrifice took place at the summit of the pyramid

in front of the temple, and from this high place,

the body was afterwards thrown down

before the assembled people.

The odor of sacrifice was copal, still used

in the manufacture of perfume.

And such as this, discovered in the excavation of Monte Alb n,

were used for burning this incense.

I have here one of the obsidian knives

used at these rituals, which I myself discovered

beside the image of a jaguar god to whom the sacrifice was made.

The natural volcanic glass is as sharp as a steel blade.

The calendar of the Aztecs called for monthly variations on this theme.

There might be differences of detail.

The victims might be men, women, or children.

The dances, costume, and incantations

might be varied to suit the nature of the god

or the season, but the sacrifice culminated almost

invariably in the same way.

It was the living heart which the gods required and received.

Do you mind coming up here a minute, Terry?

I need your help with this costume.

When Montezuma the First grandfathered the

to come to Cortez, dedicated his great city of Tenochtitlan,

now Mexico City, 20,000 victims were slaughtered

in a single festival.

The conquistadors who came from Spain with Cortez

counted 60,000 sacrificial skulls

at one time and the skull rack which

arose in a vast architectural cube of horror

in the center of the main square of Montezuma's city.

I'm now wearing a replica of the costume of a chilan,

or officiating priest of the ceremony.

Do you mind turning that light on me, Terry?

Thank you.

Some of you, I see, seem to be amused at this costume.

It would be less so, I imagine, were it to cover

the tattooed nakedness of a veritable priest presiding

over your own immolation.

The rites were not always performed on the platform of the pyramid.

In one case, the sacrificial virgin was bound to a two-post

sit up in the form of an X.

This was the method used in an extraordinary sacrifice

designed to propitiate the oldest

of the Mexican divinities, the jaguar god.

Juanita, I have another costume here or part of one

that I'd like to share to our friends.

A girl's costume.

I also have a sample of the jewelry worn

by the victim of this ritual.

Would you mind putting them on for us?

That might not be such a good idea.

As you know, she hasn't been well.

It's only for a moment if you’ll feel up to it, Juanita.

Of course.

My foster daughter is of pure Indian ancestry

and will make an excellent model for

these sacrificial accessories.

I shall not paint her face blue as her ancestors did.

I think I can spare you that one, can I?

The person was set up in the jungle

at a place where the live jaguar was known to have his lair.

The ceremony took place at night by torchlight.

The girl was painted, dressed, and bound to the cross

to await the arrival of her bridegroom, the living

incarnation of the jaguar god.

You will observe that Juanita’s dress resembles

that worn by the Mayan girl being sacrificed

in this illustration.

The chilan shouted his invocation

summoning the jaguar, leading his attendant priests

at the same time in a dance around the girl.

The dance was accompanied by choral chanting

and an insistent, hypnotic, percussive music beaten

out on drums and gourds, mingled with the shrill sound

of flutes.

At the conclusion of the dance, the priests

withdrew to a safe distance in order

not to bring upon themselves the dangerous attention

of the living god, but the girl was

left alone to face the jaguar.

Beaters deployed around the place of sacrifice

began to strike about with sticks, shouting and yelling

to frighten the beasts of the jungle,

driving them towards the helpless girl.

Gliding and crawling things swarmed about her

in sheets of hurried movements.

The snakes, the iguanas, the lizards, the toads, and

a multitude of small vermin.

After them came the running animals--

the weasels, rabbits, rats, and wild pigs.

From the larger beasts, the deer and the coyotes.

They did not molest her but moved

past quickly in a panic to escape the advancing beaters.

Suddenly, the shouting stopped and a fearful silence

fell up in the jungle.

The jaguar had appeared.

The jaguar does not attack directly

but stalks its prey in narrowing circles.

She could see the burning eyes moving around her.

The people waited in breathless silence.

They, too, could follow the advance

of the guardian incarnate as they believed her to be.

Ahh!

Don't be alarmed.

She'll be just all right in a minute.

Hello, Terry.

What's all this about?

I've searched the books.

Your books.

There was no such sacrifice, you made it up.

Well, at least you’re getting a good education.

And anyhow, you're wrong.

I synthesized it from authentic detail,

chapter and verse for the cross beings

and the animal beaters.

Why did you synthesize it?

Why did you deliberately try to scare her out of her wits?

Well, the idea isn't exactly new or original.

I got it from Hamlet.

Play within a play.

Hamlet wanted to find out what the king would do

when he saw his time reenacted.

So if you insist, I say it's, uh, more a play.

What did you expect to prove by that grotesque performance?

Do you mean you're not convinced?

Not even yet.

I don't even know what I’m supposed to be convinced of.

You've forgotten how frightened she was of him?

At the jaguar dances at the fiesta?

You remember how her father died.

And you saw what happened in the zoo.

Are those spells she has, which the doctors can't diagnose?

Do you suppose all this is pure coincidence?

There's a natural explanation for all of it.

And her reaction to my description of the sacrifice,

was that natural, too?

It would have been unnatural if she hadn't fainted

after the act you put on.

Who do you suppose would be impressed by your demonstration?

Your colleagues at the university?

They'd think you were out of your mind!

I've convinced myself.

Now, I'll find a way to convince them--

and you, too.

I'll not have Juanita subjected to any more

of these gruesome experiments.

You're wrong, Terry. She's a sick girl.

Her illness goes deeper than you think.

There's only one way to save her in a desperate and dangerous

way but the only one.

She has a disease-- you invented it.

Anyhow, Alfred.

Juanita didn't want me to tell you, but you may as well know.

We're going to be married.

I haven't much time then.

Time for what?

Well, my experiments, of course.

The gods demand maidens for their sacrifices.

But seriously, I'm delighted, Terry.

Juanita's father and Elena will be very happy, too.

She'll be busy with the wedding dress and 1,001 things.

We must have a church wedding and all that goes with it.

This calls for a drink.

There's no other way, Manuel.

Quiet, you beasts and birds.

You think you are all gods?

They maybe after all.

The Egyptians had 73 animal divinities.

There was a time when I could name them.

For you, Juanita, my darling.

If I'm wrong, may heaven forgive.

Balam?

It's waiting, Balam.

Ingratitude is not exclusively a human attribute.

It belongs to divinity as well.

The incarnate jaguar god had a curious reward

for his benefactor, who came to free him

from humiliating imprisonment.

You know your way, Balam.

It was at about the time the professor opened the cage.

Perhaps it was at that moment precisely.

Juanita was awakened by the sound of a strange commotion

coming from the darkness of the professor's museum

across the garden.

The noises were mysterious, ghostly, as if they

belonged to another world.

It was as if a tiger had somehow materialized in the museum

and as if it were trying to break out.

Growls and roars were mingled with the crash of clay figures

falling and shattering, and with the dull blows

of a heavy object striking against the walls.

But there was no light in the museum,

and Elena had seen the Professor leave half an hour before.

They thought of calling the police,

but Elena was afraid of involving her husband.

I told them to stay in the house and to do nothing until I got there.

Hurry, Terry, hurry.

By what strange influence did the professor

succeed in drawing a wild jaguar through the empty streets

to university city?

Was it by the force of his intense resolution?

His will as it is called?

Or did the beast, suspicious of his liberty,

find assurance in the proximity of a form familiar to him?

The professor would not have accepted

so rational an explanation.

The idea that the jaguar, a demon incarnate,

was aware of his goal and of the road to it

would not appear to him as it did to me.

Monstrous, unnatural beyond reason.

The soul of evil has also, he once said

to me, a corporeal immortality.

In prison, though it may be for centuries in figured stone

or incarnate in cages, until one day

it is liberated like a beast of the apocalypse.

By what miracle of memory do fish find their way

to the distant and obscure streams

of their nativity to spawn where they were spawned?

By what incredible navigation do birds arrive at far havens

over seas and continents?

We are prepared to accept these common miracles,

but how are we to believe that a savage jungle

beast out of his cage in a zoo traverse

the city to a predictable goal?

Balam.

The professor is steeped in ancient superstitions.

Drew no sharp lines between the real and the imaginary.

I prefer to believe that he was able by ultimately

leading and following to coax the jaguar to his destination.

There is a light on now in the museum.

Do you think someone--

Juanita!

I fought not for my self only, not only for Juanita--

the concentrated force of evil was attacking me.

I fought with a sense of enormous, almost

unbearable, responsibility sustained by a strength

beyond myself.

The struggle seemed immense, eternal, unreal, outside

of time and place and the natural order of things.

And in fact, so it may have been,

because we had to understand the extraordinary revelation

in store for me.

It stopped now, the noise in the museum.

- He's dead now. - Yes, he's dead.

Like that?

Yes, like that.

Well, say, Juanita, my darling.

Will I do that, too?

- How? - How did you know?

There's nothing else in the place in one piece.

Look, she'll see me shaking as I did.

I thought she'd fall and break, but she didn't.

And the old demon gave up.

I knew you would kill him until we're safe.

My hand comes from the mountains.

It was a desperate measure, but it succeeded.

She could call us.

You will be as happy with her as I've been with Elena.

Wait, Elena.

Wait.

Don't move anything in here.

Get your camera and take pictures.

Promise me you'll do that today.

They'll never believe it otherwise.

Not even.

I'll do it, I promise.

Write the story now while it’s fresh in your mind.

Publish it with the pictures.

I will.

Don't bother to explain anything.

Nothing worth explaining can be explained.

Let them do the explaining.

Ask them how a stone sculpture moved all around this room,

walls and made a shambles of my ceramics collection.

You laughed, Manuel and you, but I said there was

life in that whole.

They're ready to believe in any pseudo scientific absurdity.

A part of the soul.

Nobody believes in the soul anymore.

Give me a kiss, Elena, darling.

Call a doctor if you want to.

It's a priest I need.

I think I'm beyond doctors.

I think I'm even beyond the bowl of your good, hot soup.

When doctor and priest had done what they

could for his body and his soul, I was

permitted the last interview.

He made me promise not to postpone the wedding.

He would be there, he said, in corporeally.

I had a curious feeling that he was.

Juanita was so happy.

So wonderfully happy.

I've never seen anything so happy as Juanita's face.

I made a mighty oath to keep it that way.

I've written this story just as it happened.

I have the photographs, too, if anyone wants to see them.

The soul can wear out many bodies.