"Listen," she said. "Go into the room and fetch the picture of the
Virgin of Sorrows."
Manuel took down the picture,—a cheap cromograph,—and brought it to the bedroom.
"Place it at the foot of the bed so that I can see it."
The boy did as he was requested and returned to his seat. From the dining-room came a din of songs, hand-clapping and castanets.
Suddenly Manuel, who was half asleep, heard a loud, rasping sound issue from his mother's chest, and at the same time he noticed that her face had become paler than ever and was twitching strangely.
"What's the matter?"
The sufferer made no reply. Then Manuel ran to notify the priest again. Grumblingly he left the dining-room, looked at the sick woman and said to the boy:
"Your mother's dying. Stay here, and I'll be back at once with the extreme unction."
The priest ordered the merrymakers in the dining-room to cease their racket and the whole house became silent.
Nothing could be heard now save cautious footfalls, the opening and closing of doors, followed by the stertorous breathing of the dying woman and the tick-tock of the corridor clock.