"Las cinco menos quarto, señor," cried the servant as he knocked upon my door,—"tiempo para levantarse."
*
* *
Before leaving I asked the landlord about the picture.
He answered with a smile, "It was painted by a madman, señor."
But who? " I asked. " Mad or not, he was a master genius."
"I do not even remember his name. He is dead. They allowed him to paint in the mad-house. It kept his mind tranquil. I obtained the painting from his family after his death. They refused to accept money for it, saying they were glad to give it away."
*
* *
I had forgotten all about the painting when some five years after I happened to be passing through a little street in Mexico City. My attention was suddenly attracted by some articles I saw in the window of a dingy shop, kept by a
