In sullen silence Rosendo disregarded the priest's frenzied appeal. His eyes widened when he saw the boy torn with convulsions, but he did not flinch. Only when he saw Carmen approaching, attracted by the great crowd, he hastily bade one of the women turn her back home. Hour after hour the poor sufferer tossed and writhed. Again and again he lapsed into unconsciousness, from which he would emerge to piteously beg the priest to save him. _"Ah! Dios, Padre!"_ he pleaded, extending his trembling arms to Josè, "can you do nothing? Can you not help me? _Santísima Virgen_, how I suffer!" Then, when the evening shadows were gathering, the final convulsions seized him and wrenched his poor soul loose. Josè and Rosendo were alone with him when the end came. The people had early fled from the stricken lad, and were gathering in little groups before their homes and on the corners, discussing in low, strained tones the advent of the scourge. Those who had been close to the sick boy were now cold with fear. Women wept, and children clung whimpering to their skirts. The men talked excitedly in hoarse whispers, or lapsed into a state of terrified dullness. Josè went from the death-bed to the Alcalde. Don Mario saw him coming, and fled into the house, securing the door after him. "Go away, Padre!" he shouted through the shutters. "For the love of the Virgin do not come here! _Caramba!_" "But, Don Mario, the lad is dead!" cried Josè in desperation. "And what shall we do? We must face the situation. Come, you are the Alcalde. Let us talk about--" "_Caramba!_ Do what you want to! I shall get out! _Nombre de Dios!_ If I live through the night I shall go to the mountains to-morrow!" "But we must have a coffin to bury the lad! You must let us have one!" "No! You cannot enter here, Padre!" shrilled Don Mario, jumping up and down in his excitement. "Bury him in a blanket--anything--but keep away from my house!" Josè turned sadly away and passed through the deserted streets back to the lonely shed. Rosendo met him at the door. "_Bien, Padre_," he said quietly, "we are exiled." "Have you been home yet?" asked Josè. "_Hombre_, no! I cannot go home now. I might carry the disease to the señora and the little Carmen. I must stay here. And," he added, "you too, Padre." Josè's heart turned to lead. "But, the boy?" he exclaimed, pointing toward the bed. "When it is dark, Padre," replied Rosendo, "we will take him out through the back door and bury him beyond the shales. _Hombre!_ I must see now if I can find a shovel." Josè sank down upon the threshold, a prey to corroding despair, while Rosendo went out in search of the implement. The streets were dead, and few lights shone from the latticed windows. The pall of fear had settled thick upon the stricken town. Those who were standing before their houses as Rosendo approached hastily turned in and closed their doors. Josè, in the presence of death in a terrible form, sat mute. In an hour Rosendo returned.