"He'll be here right away. He says you're only scared."
"Yes. A fine scare," she murmured sadly. "Stay here."
Manuel sat down upon a trunk; he was so sleepy, he could hardly see.
He was just dozing off when his mother called to him.
"Listen," she said. "Go into the room and fetch the picture of the
Virgin of Sorrows."
Manuel took down the picture,--a cheap cromograph,--and brought it to
the bedroom.
"Place it at the foot of the bed so that I can see it."
The boy did as he was requested and returned to his seat. From the
dining-room came a din of songs, hand-clapping and castanets.
Suddenly Manuel, who was half asleep, heard a loud, rasping sound
issue from his mother's chest, and at the same time he noticed that
her face had become paler than ever and was twitching strangely.
"What's the matter?"
The sufferer made no reply. Then Manuel ran to notify the priest
again. Grumblingly he left the dining-room, looked at the sick woman
and said to the boy:
"Your mother's dying. Stay here, and I'll be back at once with the
extreme unction."
The priest ordered the merrymakers in the dining-room to cease their
racket and the whole house became silent.
Nothing could be heard now save cautious footfalls, the opening and
closing of doors, followed by the stertorous breathing of the dying
woman and the tick-tock of the corridor clock.
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