Without seeing this other contradiction, suffering with the idea of ​​annihilation and the image of the grave. I thought of death with ideas of life, and ordinary life, usual, everyday of their ordinary existence, and the horror grew contrast with this.

Not only once did he entrusted to any saint, or offer anything to the Virgin or Jesus if healed, the first energy that had to convalesce, used it to smile, with a terrible smile resurrected to a firm and devilish : recovering its tremendous selfishness, worldly, prosaic and creeping, he held the unshakable resolution to take revenge of the poor relatives who were going to let die alone.

Emma, ​​like most of the creatures of the century, had no intellectual or volunteer force rather than immediate and narrow interests of the ordinary prose of life, called poetry to everything else, and only had for the serious short low daily selfishness, and knew only love and think that with some force. This spirit was more compatible with that false romanticism and those fantastic extravagances of his youth, than she could imagine, to be able to compare the mean depth of his soul with the substance of the dreams of his days of spring.

The revival of his flesh he kept it a secret, was a hypocrite of the health body aches still pretending as if under the them. Euphemia, her maid, was confident of its hoaxes part: as a trap that would make all their own, Emma savored alone with her maid the details of that pretense. Valcarcel’s daughter herself was stolen by the hand of Euphemia that, on the sly, shops and places brought the best snacks and goodies more expensive in terms of fashion underwear, fragrances and delicacies. In all grocery stores and made major Emma grew to enormous accounts. “Neither Uncle Nepomuceno, and Bonis, and Sebastian, suspected that there was this hole that she was doing with the nails in the fortunón they had believed might one day inherit from another.”