My father had been telling me this for years. He saw it
coming; but I did not believe him. I did not think men could be so
wicked; but he was right. I am glad he is dead. That is the only
thing I have to be thankful for now. One day I thought he was
going to get well, and I prayed to the Virgin not to let him. I did
not want him to live. He never knew anything clear after they took
him out of his house. That was before I got there. I found him
sitting on the ground outside. They said it was the sun that had
turned him crazy; but it was not. It was his heart breaking in his
bosom. He would not come out of his house, and the men lifted
him up and carried him out by force, and threw him on the ground;
and then they threw out all the furniture we had; and when he saw
them doing that, he put his hands up to his head, and called out,
'Alessandro! Alessandro!' and I was not there! Senorita, they said it
was a voice to make the dead hear, that he called with; and nobody
could stop him. All that day and all the night he kept on calling.
God! Senorita, I wonder I did not die when they told me! When I
got there, some one had built up a little booth of tule over his head,
to keep the sun off.
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