"Si I stay in this house one day more, I go mad, no less. Is like the
dungeons in the Mission. _Madre de Dios!_ and you living like this for
years, perhaps; for Roberto grow more crank all the time. Come with me.
I no think he know."
"You may be sure that he knows everything. And I cannot leave them.
Shall you go back to Santa Barbara? Don't you want to travel?"
"_Dios de mi alma_; no! I think I go to die on that treep from Santa
Barbara--so jolt. I am too old to travel. Once I think I like see Spain;
but now I only want be comfortable. Well, si you change the mind and
come sometime, I am delight. But I go now: feel like I am old flower
wither up, without the sun."