ng man crouched
to throw a stone at it, the dog bit into his shoulder. His mother, who
used to wait for him on the nights when he went courting, burst into
wailing when she saw the livid semicircle, with its red stain left by
the dog's teeth, and she bustled about the hut preparing poultices and
drinks.

The youth laughed at his mother's fears.

"Quiet, mother, quiet!" It wasn't the first time that a dog had bitten
him. His body still showed faint signs of bites that he had received in
childhood, when he used to go through the _huerta_ throwing stones at
the dogs. Old _Caldera_ spoke to him from bed, without displaying any
emotion. On the following day he was to go to the veterinary and have
his flesh cauterized by a burning iron. So he ordered, and there was
nothing further to be said about the matter. The young man submitted
without flinching to the operation, like a good, brave chap of the
Valencian _huerta_. He had four days' rest in all, and even at that, his
fondness for work caused him new sufferings and he aided his father with
pain-tortured arm. Saturdays, when he came to his sweetheart's
farmhouse, she always asked after his health. "How's the bite getting
along?" He would shrug his shoulders gleefully before the eyes of the
maiden and the two would finally sit down in a corner of the kitchen,
remaining in mute contemplation of each other, or speaking of the
clothes and the bed for their future home, without daring to come close
to each other; there they sat erect and solemn, leaving between their
bodies a space "wide enough for a sickle to pass through," as the girl's
father smilingly put it.

More than a month passed by. _Caldera's_ wife was the only one that did
not forget the accident. She followed her son about with anxious
glances. Ah, sovereign queen! The _huerta_ seemed to have been abandoned
by God and His holy mother. Over at Templat's cabin a child was
suffering the agonies of hell through having been bitten by a mad dog.
All the _huerta_ folk were running in terror to have a look at the poor
creature; a spectacle that she herself did not dare to gaze upon because
she was thinking of her own son. If her Pascualet, as tall and sturdy as
a tower, were to meet with the same fate as that unfortunate child!...

One day, at dawn, _Caldera's_ son was unable to arise from his kitchen
bench, and his mother helped him walk to the large nuptial bed, which
occupied a part of the _estudi_, the best room in t