"At what hour shall we come for it?" Anastasio
said.
"What? For what? Oh
I"
He thought for a
moment. "Let us say three o'clock. Good?"
"Yes, good." He turned to go and I turned with
him.
"Anastasio," Benito said. We looked at him and
he had his fingers at his mouth. He looked very
puzzled and worried.
"It is the custom for me to go to the mayor for
the funeral permit but I do not know what to do in
this case. It is something rare. It is very rare."
"Do you want me to go, Benito?"
"I think that you must go."
"Then I shall go." He looked at me.
"I feel it," said Benito, "but-it
cannot be."
"Thank you," said Anastasio. "It is good.
A bur."
"Abur,"
I said.
"Adios,"
said Benito.
We walked down to the house of the woman who
washed and dressed the dead girls and I left him at
her door and went home.
I went down into the tavern and took a vermouth
half and half and some crackers for breakfast. After
a while I poured a little bit of pure vermouth into
the glass and watched the door of his house and
soon I saw him and the old woman come and go in.
I watched the house and began to feel like getting
drunk again and I drank the vermouth slowly and
was thinking about getting out the wine when
I
saw
him and the old woman come out of the door, both
walking very fast and arguing. They stood in the
street and talked and she shouted but Anastasio
spoke very normally. She said something very quick-
ly and turned around and walked away. I went out
to the doorway and yelled, "Hey, Senor Anastasio,
come over here," and I went in to fix a glass of
wine for him. He came over and we sat inside drink-
ing the wine. He looked very quiet.
"What the hell is the matter?" I said finally.
"She won't prepare her."
"You don't tell me."
"Yes, she is a Catholic. She says she doesn't have
to be dressed for a civil ceremony."
"That's fine." I looked at him and we drank slow-
ly for a while.
"You are very sincere in this, no?"
"Yes," he said, "I am sincere."
"What do you want to do now, then?"
"Go to the mayor for the funeral permit."
"Less bad. He's a Socialist, no?"
"Yes, he is a Socialist, but he is a property owner,
too."
"Oh
I"
I said. He kept looking at me and I bent
my head and watched the empty glass in my hands.
I tried to think of something very far away from all
this but I kept remembering things about her, her
face, her body and her mind all being together in
my head and I knew that I would say "yes" when
PARTISAN
REVIEW AND ANVIL
he would ask me to go to town with him. I could
feel that he was going to ask me now and I lifted
up my head and he did. I said, "Yes." I noticed that
he was beginning to be tired.
When we got into the town we found the mayor
very soon and he told us right away that he had
heard about us. He was an old friend of my father's
and he was very nice. He did not know what to do.
Who had told him? Oh, they told him. They told
him. Who? Don Manuel ?
(He looked at me with
a funny look.
1
got you now,
1
said to me.)
No, not
Don Manuel, Benito. Benito and the others. No, not
Don Manuel.
(Don Manuel was the richest land
owner in Castilla la Vieja and he had property in
Our pueblo.)
This is a very serious matter, Senores.
We know, hombre; we know. I am thinking about
it. I am working on it. Your path should be very
clear.
(1
said this.)
Yes, it is; it is.
(He did not like
me now and the funny look came again.)
You go
home, friend Anastasio, and I will come to the
pueblo in a half.hour. Go with him, Mickey.
(To
me.)
Then the mayor walked away and we stood and
watched him for a moment. After that we started to
walk through the town towards the road to our
pueblo. We walked very slowly and we did not look
at the people walking around, laughing and talking.
The things that had happened so far were small
things but now they seemed very big and important
and we felt the weight of their disappointment push
down on our shoulders and hunch our bodies.
We came to the end of the pueblo and into the
open country on the road and we stopped. The sun
was very hot. Anastasio looked at me and smiled
;ery weakly. I lowered my head and I felt like cry-
mg.
Now we had it. Weill So a Socialist mayor would
think about granting a municipal burial permit!
How wonderful!
We were like two runners in a cross country who
have been going along for miles, smoothly and with
hope, and then they are told that up ahead all places
in the race have been taken. They do not stop run-
ning but nothing matters to them now. They will
finish almost mechanically.
N ow nothing mattered to us but we could not
stop. Everything we did was done because we had
hoped to bury her truly and decently before. We
went on like the runners.
We went home walking slowly. We put her in the
coffin that had been taken to the house, my whole
body trembling, not being able to take myself away
from him now, held in by the common ground of our
defeat that we were running into. We went out in
the yard and then we went over to my aunt's.
We ate crackers and drank wine. We watched the
door of his house and we did not talk. And so it was
that in silence we saw the mayor come to the door
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