I would be one. For just a moment I thought I was one. I was so happy and it seemed so simple and easy. When I awoke in the morning I expected I would be a saint, but I wasn’t. I’ve never become one. I want so to be one. All I want is to be a saint. That is all I’ve ever wanted. And this morning I feel as though I might be one. Oh, I hope I will get to be one.”
“You’ll be one. Everybody gets what they want. That’s what they always tell me.”
“I don’t know now. When I was a girl it seemed so simple. I knew I would be a saint. Only I believed it took time when I found it did not happen suddenly. Now it seems almost impossible.”
“I’d say you had a good chance.”
“Do you really think so? No, I don’t want just to be encouraged. Don’t just encourage me. I want to be a saint. I want so to be a saint.”
“Of course you’ll be a saint,” Mr. Frazer said.
“No, probably I won’t be. But, oh, if I could only be a saint! I’d be perfectly happy.”
“You’re three to one to be a saint.”
“No, don’t encourage me. But, oh, if I could only be a saint! If I could only be a saint!”
“How’s your friend Cayetano?”
“He’s going to get well but he’s paralyzed. One of the bullets hit the big nerve that goes down through his thigh and that leg is paralyzed. They only found it out when he got well enough so that he could move.”
“Maybe the nerve will regenerate.”
“I’m praying that it will,” Sister Cecilia said. “You ought to see him.”
“I don’t feel like seeing anybody.”
“You know you’d like to see him. They could wheel him in here.”
“All right.”
They wheeled him in, thin, his skin transparent, his hair
