One of my most vivid memories of Pamplona is seeing a criminal on his
way to execution passing our house, attired in a round cap and yellow
robe.
It was one of the sights which has impressed me most. Later in the
afternoon, driven by curiosity, knowing that the man who had been
garroted must be still on the scaffold, I ventured alone to see him, and
remained there examining him closely for a long time. When I returned
home that night, I was unable to sleep because of the impression he had
made.
DON TIRSO LAREQUI
Many other vivid memories of Pamplona remain with me, never to be
forgotten. I remember a lad of our own age who died, leaping from the
wall, and then there were our adventures along the river.
Another terrible memory was associated with the cathedral. I had begun
my first year of Latin, and was exactly nine at the time.
We had come out of the Institute, and were watching a funeral.
Afterwards, three or four of the boys, among whom were my brother
Ricardo and myself, entered the cathedral. The echo of the responses was
ringing in my ears and I hummed them, as I wandered about the aisles.
Suddenly, a black shadow shot from behind one of the confessionals,
pounced upon me and seized me around the neck with both hands, almost
choking me.
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