JOSEDONOSO
37
tian the certainty he was going to die. He had no strength left. But
he thought if he could live a few weeks longer, if he could find
something to eat and a place to stay, he would be able to sleep, to
remember at last, and he would tell about it. To die before then
would be failure. But Sebastian's hope was strong, the only thing in
him that did not waver.
It was very cold. At dawn, under the dead black trees of the
park, Sebastian sometimes found birds that had died of the cold .
Trying to revive them, he would blow on their gray feathers that,
hardened by frost, did not move. In the city he lived under a
bridge, and by surrounding himself with flea-ridden mongrels to
keep warm and covering himself with old newspapers to keep off the
wind, he was able to sleep a great deal, almost all the time. He
knew he was on the verge of remembering, that the door was about
to open .
It
was just a question of clinging to life a few days longer,
finding a crust of bread, protecting himself against the ice and frost.
Ir
was hard. Sometimes he would press his nose against a butcher's
window and stand watching the hot red of the disemboweled ani–
mals hanging from hooks, and whenever anybody opened the door,
the thick, bloody smell soothed his hunger and cold a little.
One day he was struck by an idea.
He would visit Aquiles Marambio, who lived nearby. Perhaps
he would take pity on him. Perhaps, forgetting what he had said so
many years before, he would give Sebastian food and shelter for a
few days, though the last time their paths had crossed Marambio
hadn't even recognized him. But perhaps ...
Sebastian made a cap out of newspapers to protect his head,
and slowly moved through the cold afternoon, crossing streets-and
shadows of houses and trees and unlighted street lamps - from time
to
time glancing up at the leaden sky striped with electricity wires,
until he reached Marambio's house. The clouds drained the red
sunset on
to
the roofs. Sebastian pressed the doorbell. A maid
dressed in black with a white muslin apron opened the door.
"Could I have a word with Aquiles Marambio?" Sebastian
said.
"With Don Aquiles?" The maid stressed the "Don." "They're
at dinner. Go around to the back door, through the alley. This door
is for visitors. Who shall I say is asking for him?"
