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needn ’ t be said) with the ignorance of kids and the unfortunate. They yelled from afar and feigned being afraid. Bassot spoke for everyone:
    « Don ’ t you see that you ’ re drunk? Who, if they ’ re not drunk, can penetrate the muddle of what you ’ re saying? »
    They laughed. Trinquis countered:
    « The reasons for my mui 2 are obvious, despite some shameless opinions here. On the other hand, whether I ’ m here or not here, the lady basically revolts all of you? »
    Bassot responded, making a great fuss:
    « Don ’ t even think it, Trinquis. There isn ’ t even the hint of a grudge on our part. Isn ’ t your booze — stuff as good to you as any prestige — better than everything else you imagined? Where do you hide the habit? It ’ s always been done this way, and you do it pretty well, you ’ re no pushover. If you were, those bones would be dancing. »
    He pointed to the mountain Mal Temps and the cemetery, the borders of Sinera.
    « Fine, go on, laugh, » said Trinquis. « Now, just don ’ t hurt me, okay? »
    « The taunting never gets out of hand, » Bassot said. « Hey, boys, let ’ s go! »
    « Wait! » Trinquis said. « I am, it ’ s true, predisposed to fighting. But do you know who you ’ re exchanging ideas with? A lady, ep!, a lady. These plushies led Neb to his last lather, consider that! »
    « Neb of which book? » asked Bassot. « You ’ re delivering sacraments like a troublemaker, Trinquis. »
    « Hardly, » she asserted. « That ’ s enough, grandchildren. Hey, writer, take me away from the buzzing of this swarm! » she yelled out to me. « Don ’ t make me come off like I ’ m getting even more plastered. »
    « If you are, what can we do about it, » I said. « History says that we have to throw stones at you now. Come on, lady, don ’ t fight it, it ’ s useless. I ’ m staying out of it. »
    « Quin deu ! » blasphemed Trinquis.
    « Pirandellian! 3 » I responded, rancorously.
    « Come on, that ’ s enough — so many sorabis 4 here »
    « Break open the five bottles of ratafia, angels! »
    II
    « Since you ’ re in control of it, I can ’ t deny our relation, » the old woman said to me biliously. « I hate you, you know. Thanks to you, Bassot made me, of course, abandon my protector, and the muddle in me cleared up from top to bottom. And you should have been able to make my destiny easier to manage, and you refused. However, I ’ m your character and I ’ m obsessed with you. Well, then: my story, all larded up. I don ’ t know why you ’ re chasing my shadow after so many years way off in the distance. Melera ’ s life-long friend. To roll by, slap, and that ’ s it. A little drink now and again. Yeah, to forget things, Jesus. And all of a sudden you ’ re here exploiting my fame, and I didn ’ t take any more swigs than Melera or Neb, I swear. With that one: like siblings. I watched him die. »
    « Is it true that Candelera, Oliva, and Perp è tua were all there? » I asked with the anxiousness of an evangelist.
    « Yes. The widow, Pepa Sastre, Pasquala Estampa, Pudentil · la Closa, Criseta Mils, and Doloretes B ò til, too. The whole family. What a moment! We cried. Death was slow in coming. We told little stories to entertain ourselves. Death saw all of us off with sacraments and resignations. Father Silv í led the Our Father. Death, however, was slow in arriving. So we formed a circle and we kept an eye on him until things sped up. We cried, with our eyes fixed on him, bet your life. Spectacle, child. The street grew gloomy in the long run, and we were to the point where we didn ’ t see him in really bad shape. We ’ re talking about the end of September! We distracted ourselves for a few instants, because things there were going slowly; we meddled with our hair. Until she, she was the nearest (it was her turn, the poor girl), said: “ That ’ s it! ” We breathed. »
    « That was how Nebuchadnezzar died? » I said.
    « Didn ’ t I just tell