The fire lasted all night. Iván stood in front of his homestead and kept repeating, “What is this?⁠ ⁠… Friends!⁠ ⁠… One need only have pulled it out and trampled on it!” But when the roof fell in, Iván rushed into the burning place, and seizing a charred beam, tried to drag it out. The women saw him, and called him back; but he pulled out the beam, and was going in again for another when he lost his footing and fell among the flames. Then his son made his way in after him and dragged him out. Iván had singed his hair and beard and burnt his clothes and scorched his hands, but he felt nothing. “His grief has stupefied him,” said the people. The fire was burning itself out, but Iván still stood repeating: “Friends!⁠ ⁠… What is this?⁠ ⁠… One need only have pulled it out!”

In the morning the village Elder’s son came to fetch Iván.

“Daddy Iván, your father is dying! He has sent for you to say goodbye.”

Iván had forgotten about his father, and did not understand what was being said to him.