It was piteous to see how in these
intervals his delusions were always shaped by the bitterest
experiences of his life. Sometimes he fancied that the Americans
were pursuing him, or that they were carrying off Ramona, and he
was pursuing them. At such times he would run with maniac
swiftness for hours, till he fell exhausted on the ground, and slowly
regained true consciousness by exhaustion. At other times he
believed he owned vast flocks and herds; would enter any
enclosure he saw, where there were sheep or cattle, go about
among them, speaking of them to passers-by as his own.
Sometimes he would try to drive them away; but on being
remonstrated with, would bewilderedly give up the attempt. Once
he suddenly found himself in the road driving a small flock of
goats, whose he knew not, nor whence he got them. Sitting down
by the roadside, he buried his head in his hands. "What has
happened to my memory?" he said. "I must be ill of a fever!" As he
sat there, the goats, of their own accord, turned and trotted back
into a corral near by, the owner of which stood, laughing, on his
doorsill; and when Alessandro came up, said goodnaturedly, "All
right, Alessandro! I saw you driving off my goats, but I thought
you'd bring 'em back.
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