pacify the wife.

"That man!" doña Bernarda would stammer in her rage. "That man is going
to ruin us! Doesn't he see he's compromising his son's future?"

His most enthusiastic adherents, without losing their traditional
respect for him, would speak smilingly of his "weaknesses"; but at
night, when don Ramón, exhausted by his struggle with the insatiable
demon gnawing at his spirit, would be snoring painfully away, with a
disgusting rattle that made it impossible for people in the house to
sleep, doña Bernarda would sit up in her bed with her thin arms folded
across her bosom, and pray to herself:

"My Lord, My God! May this man die as soon as possible! May all this
come to an end soon, oh Lord!"

And Bernarda's God must have heard her prayer, for her husband got
rapidly worse.

"Take care of yourself, don Ramón," his curate friends would say to him.
They were the only ones who dared allude to his disorderly life. "You're
getting old, and boyish pranks at your age are invitations to Death!"

The _cacique_ would smile, proud, at bottom, that all men should know
that such exploits were possible for a man at his age.

He had enough strength left for one more caress the day when, escorted
by don Andrés, Rafael entered with his degree as a Doctor of Law. He
gave the boy his shotgun--a veritable jewel, the admiration of the
entire District--and a magnificent horse. And as if he had been waiting