�Pelayo, look at this. There must be thousands of dollars here. We need to take this.� As she held the bag in one hand and her son in the other, the weights in her arms were nearly the same.
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| he kicked the door to the doctor�s house shut as she stomped down the path away from his green garden, as he had been meanly useless to Elisenda and her child. The boy�s fever had not improved. Elisenda had walked with Pelayo four country miles into town for their sake of their son�s health and just the other day the neighbor woman had suggested an angel may be coming soon. The doctor had told them it was an infection the cure for which was to have the child eat more expensive food or take some expensive pills or, as the doctor recommended, both. Elisenda had been so angry that she hadn�t been able to speak to Pelayo the whole walk back to their house, but had screamed often and loudly. So loudly, in fact, that they almost completely missed the dying old man lying in the embankment along the road. | ||||||||||||||||||
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| Pelayo saw him as they turned to follow past a hill. It seemed like the old man had been following the path and somehow tumbled downward and broke his leg badly. He was heavily wrinkled and bore a smattering of moles and liver-spots and a torn gabardine coat. He was on his stomach and trying to claw his way upwards with failing strength, digging his yellowed, unkempt fingernails into the dirt. The old beggar was out of breath. Elisenda figured that he must have been driven off the path. Pelayo lifted the man up and threw one of his arms around his neck, meaning to carry him to town, either to the doctor or the church; whichever would take such a case. Nearby to him was a valise which Elisenda picked up, and when she gave in to her curiosity she saw it was full of money.
�Pelayo, look at this. There must be thousands of dollars here. We need to take this.� As she held the bag in one hand and her son in the other, the weights in her arms were nearly the same. |
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