UNDER THE SKY
The woman said: "It is not possible. She would scream."
"I know the proprietor," said Jacinto, rolling his eyes and grin–
ning. The woman seemed to believe him. Now he felt that a great
thing was about to happen.
"And you," he said, twisting her arm brutally, "you do not
scream."
"No."
Again he pointed to the sky.
"God is my witness. You can save the life of your friend. Come
with me."
She was trembling violently, but as they stumbled through the
street and he let go of her an instant, she began to run. With one
bound he had overtaken her, and he made her stop and look at the
sky again as he went through his threats once more. She saw his
wide, red-veined eyes in a bright flash of lightning, and his utterly
empty face. Mechanically she allowed him to push her along through
the streets. He did not let go of her again.
"You are saving your friend's life," he said. "God will reward
you."
She was sobbing as she went along. No one passed them as
they moved unsteadily on toward the station. When they were nearly
there they made a great detour past the edge of town, and finally
came to the cemetery.
"This is a holy place," he murmured, swiftly crossing himself.
"Here you are going to save your friend's life."
He took off his shirt, laid it on the stony ground, and pushed
her down. There was nothing but the insistent, silent flashing in the
sky. She kept her eyes shut, but she shuddered at each flash, even
with her lids closed. The wind blew harder, and the smell of the
dust was in her nostrils.
He took her back as far as the park and there he let go of her.
Then he said: "Good night, senorita," and walked away very quickly.
He was happy because she had not asked for any money.
The next year when he came down to the train he waited at
the station four afternoons to see the train come in. The last afternoon
he went to the cemetery and sat near the small square building that
had the stone woman on top of it. On the ground the dust blew
past. The enormous clouds hung in the sky and the vultures were
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