in; the flames were spreading hungrily, and the falling of the roof threatened to bury us where we stood. We tried in great haste to save some few little things; but it was not possible. This house, this house which I bought in the year ’87 for almost nothing, because the mortgage on it was foreclosed against a debtor who owed me five thousand reales with thirteen thousand reales interest—this house was fairly crumbling to bits. Over there a plank fell; over there a pane of glass leaped out; on the side yonder the walls burst in. The cat yowled, and Doña Guedita fairly clawed me in the face as we got out of the room. I ventured into my own room to try to get some little receipts, and came near perishing.”
Candiola’s distress and moral suffering made it seem as if he had a nervous disorder. It was plain to be seen that terror and grief had completely upset him. His talkativeness was not of the sort that soothes the soul, it was a nervous overflow; and although he appeared to talk with me, he was in reality addressing himself to invisible beings. To judge by his gestures, they talked to him in turn. He went on talking, and answering questions which his imaginary interlocutors were asking him.