isagreeable question. The clergy, my
friend, have refused to allow Rey to be buried in consecrated ground.
I interfered in the matter, entreating the bishop to remove this heavy
anathema, but without success. Finally, we buried the body of the young
man in a grave made in the field of Mundo Grande, where my patient
explorations have discovered the archaeological treasures of which you
know. I spent some very sad hours, and the painful impression which
I received has not yet altogether passed away. Don Juan Tafetan and
ourselves were the only persons who accompanied the funeral cortege. A
little later, strange to say, the girls whom they call here the Troyas
went to the field, and prayed for a long time beside the rustic tomb
of the mathematician. Although this seemed a ridiculous piece of
officiousness it touched me.

"With respect to the death of Rey, the rumor circulates throughout the
town that he was assassinated, but by whom is not known. It is asserted
that he declared this to be the case, for he lived for about an hour and
a half. According to what they say, he refused to reveal the name of
his murderer. I repeat this version, without either contradicting or
supporting it. Perfecta does not wish this matter to be spoken of, and
she becomes greatly distressed whenever I allude to it.

"Poor woman! no sooner had one misfortune occurred than she met with
another, which has grieved us all deeply. My friend, the fatal malady
that has been for so many generations connatural in our family has now
claimed another victim. Poor Rosario, who, thanks to our cares, was
improving gradually in her health, has entirely lost her reason. Her
incoherent words, her frenzy, her deadly pallor, bring my mother and my
sister forcibly to my mind. This is the most serious case that I have
witnessed in our family, for the question here is not one of mania but
of real insanity. It is sad, terribly sad that out of so many I should
be the only one to escape, preserving a sound mind with all my faculties
unimpaired and entirely free from any sign of that fatal malady.

"I have not been able to give your remembrances to Don Inocencio, for
the poor man has suddenly fallen ill and refuses to see even his most
intimate friends. But I am sure that he would return your remembrances,
and I do not doubt that he could lay his hand instantly on the
translation of the collection of Latin epigrams which you recommend to
him. I hear firing again. They sa