DEAD STARS
by Paz Marquez Benitez

THROUGH the open window the air-steeped outdoors passed into his room, quietly enveloping
him, stealing into his very thought. Esperanza, ulia, the sorry mess he had made o! li!e, the
years to "ome even now #eginning to weigh down, to "rush--they lost "on"reteness, di!!used into
!ormless melan"holy. The tranquil murmur o! "onversation issued !rom the #ri"$-
tiled azotea where %on ulian and &armen were #usy puttering away among the rose pots.

'(apa, and when will the )long ta#le) #e set*'

'+ don)t $now yet. l!redo is not very spe"i!i", #ut + understand Esperanza wants it to #e net
month.'

&armen sighed impatiently. 'hy is he not a #it more de"ided, + wonder. He is over thirty, is he
not* nd still a #a"helor/ Esperanza must #e tired waiting.'

'0he does not seem to #e in mu"h o! a hurry either,' %on ulian nasally "ommented, while his
rose s"issors #usily snipped away.

'How "an a woman #e in a hurry when the man does not hurry her*' &armen returned, pin"hing
o!! a worm with a "are!ul, somewhat a#sent air. '(apa, do you remem#er how mu"h in love he
was*'

'+n love* ith whom*'

'ith Esperanza, o! "ourse. He has not had another love a!!air that + $now o!,' she said with
good-natured "ontempt. 'hat + mean is that at the #eginning he was enthusiasti"--!lowers,
serenades, notes, and things li$e that--'

l!redo remem#ered that period with a wonder not unmied with shame. That was less than !our
years ago. He "ould not understand those months o! a great hunger that was not o! the #ody nor
yet o! the mind, a "raving that had seized on him one quiet night when the moon was a#road and
under the dappled shadow o! the trees in the plaza, man wooed maid. as he #eing "heated #y
li!e* 1ove--he seemed to have missed it. Or was the love that others told a#out a mere !a#ri"ation
o! per!ervid imagination, an eaggeration o! the "ommonpla"e, a glori!i"ation o! insipid
monotonies su"h as made up his love li!e* as love a "om#ination o! "ir"umstan"es, or sheer
native "apa"ity o! soul* +n those days love was, !or him, still the eternal puzzle2 !or love, as he
$new it, was a stranger to love as he divined it might #e.
 

0itting quietly in his room now, he "ould almost revive the restlessness o! those days, the !eeling
o! tumultuous haste, su"h as he $new so well in his #oyhood when something #eauti!ul was
going on somewhere and he was trying to get there in time to see. 'Hurry, hurry, or you will miss
it,' someone had seemed to urge in his ears. 0o he had avidly seized on the shadow o! 1ove and
deluded himsel! !or a long while in the way o! humanity !rom time immemorial. +n the
meantime, he #e"ame very mu"h engaged to Esperanza.

hy would men so mismanage their lives* Greed, he thought, was what ruined so many. Greed--
the desire to "rowd into a moment all the en3oyment it will hold, to squeeze !rom the hour all the
emotion it will yield. 4en "ommit themselves when #ut hal!-meaning to do so, sa"ri!i"ing
 possi#le !uture !ullness o! e"stasy to the "raving !or immediate e"itement. Greed--mortgaging
the !uture--!or"ing the hand o! Time, or o! 5ate.

'hat do you thin$ happened*' as$ed &armen, pursuing her thought.

'+ supposed long-engaged people are li$e that2 warm now, "ool tomorrow. + thin$ they are
o!tener "ool than warm. The very !a"t that an engagement has #een allowed to prolong itsel!
argues a "ertain pla"idity o! temperament--or o! a!!e"tion--on the part o! either, or #oth.' %on
ulian loved to philosophize. He was tal$ing now with an evident relish in words, his resonant,
very nasal voi"e toned down to monologue pit"h. 'That phase you were spea$ing o! is natural
enough !or a #eginning. 6esides, that, as + see it, was l!redo)s last ra"e with es"aping youth--'

&armen laughed aloud at the thought o! her #rother)s per!e"t physi"al repose--almost indolen"e--
distur#ed in the role suggested #y her !ather)s !igurative language.

' last spurt o! hot #lood,' !inished the old man.

5ew "ertainly would "redit l!redo 0alazar with hot #lood. Even his !riends had amusedly
diagnosed his #lood as "ool and thin, "iting in"ontroverti#le eviden"e. Tall and slender, he moved
with an indolent ease that verged on gra"e. Under straight re"al"itrant hair, a thin !a"e with a
satis!ying #readth o! !orehead, slow, dreamer)s eyes, and astonishing !reshness o! lips--indeed
l!redo 0alazar)s appearan"e #eto$ened little o! eu#erant mas"ulinity2 rather a poet with
wayward humor, a !astidious artist with $een, "lear #rain.

He rose and quietly went out o! the house. He lingered a moment on the stone steps2 then went
down the path shaded #y immature a"a"ias, through the little tarred gate whi"h he le!t swinging
 #a"$ and !orth, now opening, now "losing, on the gravel road #ordered along the !arther side #y
madre "a"ao hedge in tardy lavender #loom.

The gravel road narrowed as it slanted up to the house on the hill, whose wide, open por"hes he
"ould glimpse through the heat-shrivelled tamarinds in the 4artinez yard.
 

0i wee$s ago that house meant nothing to him save that it was the 4artinez house, rented and
o""upied #y udge del 7alle and his !amily. 0i wee$s ago ulia 0alas meant nothing to him2 he
did not even $now her name2 #ut now--

One evening he had gone 'neigh#oring' with %on ulian2 a rare enough o""urren"e, sin"e he
made it a point to avoid all appearan"e o! "urrying !avor with the udge. This parti"ular evening
however, he had allowed himsel! to #e persuaded. ' little mental relaation now and then is
 #ene!i"ial,' the old man had said. '6esides, a 3udge)s good will, you $now2' the rest o! the
thought--'is worth a rising young lawyer)s trou#le'--%on ulian "onveyed through a shrug and a
smile that derided his own worldly wisdom.

 young woman had met them at the door. +t was evident !rom the e"itement o! the udge)s
"hildren that she was a re"ent and very wel"ome arrival. +n the "hara"teristi" 5ilipino way !ormal
introdu"tions had #een omitted--the 3udge limiting himsel! to a "asual "Ah, ya se conocen?" --
with the "onsequen"e that l!redo "alled her 4iss del 7alle throughout the evening.

He was puzzled that she should smile with evident delight every time he addressed her thus.
1ater %on ulian in!ormed him that she was not the udge)s sister, as he had supposed, #ut his
sister-in-law, and that her name was ulia 0alas.  very digni!ied rather austere name, he thought.
0till, the young lady should have "orre"ted him. s it was, he was greatly em#arrassed, and !elt
that he should eplain.

To his apology, she replied, 'That is nothing, Ea"h time + was a#out to "orre"t you, #ut +
remem#ered a similar eperien"e + had on"e #e!ore.'

'Oh,' he drawled out, vastly relieved.

' man named 4analang--+ $ept "alling him 4analo. !ter the tenth time or so, the young man
rose !rom his seat and said suddenly, )(ardon me, #ut my name is 4analang, 4analang.) 8ou
$now, + never !orgave him/'

He laughed with her.

'The #est thing to do under the "ir"umstan"es, + have !ound out,' she pursued, 'is to pretend not
to hear, and to let the other person !ind out his mista$e without help.'

's you did this time. 0till, you loo$ed amused every time +--'

'+ was thin$ing o! 4r. 4analang.'

%on ulian and his un"ommuni"ative !riend, the udge, were a#sor#ed in a game o! "hess. The
young man had tired o! playing appre"iative spe"tator and desultory "onversationalist, so he and
 

ulia 0alas had gone o!! to "hat in the vine-"overed por"h. The lone piano in the neigh#orhood
alternately tin$led and #anged away as the player)s moods altered. He listened, and wondered
irrelevantly i! 4iss 0alas "ould sing2 she had su"h a "harming spea$ing voi"e.

He was mildly surprised to note !rom her appearan"e that she was unmista$a#ly a sister o! the
udge)s wi!e, although %o9a dela was o! a di!!erent type altogether. 0he was small and plump,
with wide #rown eyes, "learly de!ined eye#rows, and deli"ately modeled hips--a pretty woman
with the "ompleion o! a #a#y and the epression o! a li$a#le "ow. ulia was taller, not so
o#viously pretty. 0he had the same eye#rows and lips, #ut she was mu"h dar$er, o! a smooth ri"h
 #rown with underlying tones o! "rimson whi"h heightened the impression she gave o! a#ounding
vitality.

On 0unday mornings a!ter mass, !ather and son would go "run"hing up the gravel road to the
house on the hill. The udge)s wi!e invaria#ly o!!ered them #eer, whi"h %on ulian en3oyed and
l!redo did not. !ter a hal! hour or so, the "hess#oard would #e #rought out2 then l!redo and
ulia 0alas would go out to the por"h to "hat. 0he sat in the low hammo"$ and he in a ro"$ing
"hair and the hours--warm, quiet 4ar"h hours--sped #y. He en3oyed tal$ing with her and it was
evident that she li$ed his "ompany2 yet what !eeling there was #etween them was so undistur#ed
that it seemed a matter o! "ourse. Only when Esperanza "han"ed to as$ him indire"tly a#out
those visits did some uneasiness "reep into his thoughts o! the girl net door.

Esperanza had wanted to $now i! he went straight home a!ter mass. l!redo suddenly realized
that !or several 0undays now he had not waited !or Esperanza to "ome out o! the "hur"h as he
had #een wont to do. He had #een eager to go 'neigh#oring.'

He answered that he went home to wor$. nd, #e"ause he was not ha#itually untruth!ul, added,
'0ometimes + go with (apa to udge del 7alle)s.'

0he dropped the topi". Esperanza was not prone to indulge in unprovo$ed 3ealousies. 0he was a
 #eliever in the regenerative virtue o! institutions, in their power to regulate !eeling as well as
"ondu"t. +! a man were married, why, o! "ourse, he loved his wi!e2 i! he were engaged, he "ould
not possi#ly love another woman.

That hal!-lie told him what he had not admitted openly to himsel!, that he was giving ulia 0alas
something whi"h he was not !ree to give. He realized that2 yet something that would not #e
denied #e"$oned imperiously, and he !ollowed on.

+t was so easy to !orget up there, away !rom the prying eyes o! the world, so easy and so
 poignantly sweet. The #eloved woman, he standing "lose to her, the shadows around, en!olding.

'Up here + !ind--something--'

 

He and ulia 0alas stood loo$ing out into the she quiet night. 0ensing unwanted intensity,
laughed, woman-li$e, as$ing, 'musement*'

':o2 youth--its spirit--'

're you so old*'

'nd heart)s desire.'

as he #e"oming a poet, or is there a poet lur$ing in the heart o! every man*

'%own there,' he had "ontinued, his voi"e somewhat indistin"t, 'the road is too #road, too
trodden #y !eet, too #arren o! mystery.'

'%own there' #eyond the an"ient tamarinds lay the road, upturned to the stars. +n the dar$ness
the !ire!lies glimmered, while an errant #reeze strayed in !rom somewhere, #ringing elusive,
!araway sounds as o! voi"es in a dream.

'4ystery--' she answered lightly, 'that is so #rie!--'

':ot in some,' qui"$ly. ':ot in you.'

'8ou have $nown me a !ew wee$s2 so the mystery.'

'+ "ould study you all my li!e and still not !ind it.'

'0o long*'

'+ should li$e to.'

Those si wee$s were now so swi!t--seeming in the memory, yet had they #een so deep in the
living, so "harged with "ompelling power and sweetness. 6e"ause neither the past nor the !uture
had relevan"e or meaning, he lived only the present, day #y day, lived it intensely, with su"h a
will!ul shutting out o! !a"t as astounded him in his "almer moments.

ust #e!ore Holy ee$, %on ulian invited the 3udge and his !amily to spend 0unday a!ternoon at
Tanda where he had a "o"onut plantation and a house on the #ea"h. &armen also "ame with her
!our energeti" "hildren. 0he and %o9a dela spent most o! the time indoors dire"ting the
 preparation o! the merienda and dis"ussing the li$ea#le a#surdities o! their hus#ands--how
&armen)s 7i"ente was so a#sor#ed in his !arms that he would not even ta$e time o!! to
a""ompany her on this visit to her !ather2 how %o9a dela)s %ionisio was the most a#sentminded
o! men, sometimes going out without his "ollar, or with unmat"hed so"$s.
 

!ter the merienda, %on ulian sauntered o!! with the 3udge to show him what a thriving young
"o"onut loo$ed li$e--'plenty o! leaves, "lose set, ri"h green'--while the "hildren, "onvoyed #y
ulia 0alas, !ound unending entertainment in the rippling sand le!t #y the e##ing tide. They were
!ar down, wal$ing at the edge o! the water, indistin"tly outlined against the gray o! the out-
"urving #ea"h.

l!redo le!t his per"h on the #am#oo ladder o! the house and !ollowed. Here were her !ootsteps,
narrow, ar"hed. He laughed at himsel! !or his #la"$ "anvas !ootwear whi"h he removed !orthwith
and tossed high up on dry sand.

hen he "ame up, she !lushed, then smiled with !ran$ pleasure.

'+ hope you are en3oying this,' he said with a questioning in!le"tion.

'7ery mu"h. +t loo$s li$e home to me, e"ept that we do not have su"h a lovely #ea"h.'

There was a #reeze !rom the water. +t #lew the hair away !rom her !orehead, and whipped the
tu"$ed-up s$irt around her straight, slender !igure. +n the pi"ture was something o! eager !reedom
as o! wings poised in !light. The girl had gra"e, distin"tion. Her !a"e was not nota#ly pretty2 yet
she had a tantalizing "harm, all the more "ompelling #e"ause it was an inner quality, an
a"hievement o! the spirit. The lure was there, o! naturalness, o! an alert vitality o! mind and
 #ody, o! a thought!ul, sunny temper, and o! a piquant perverseness whi"h is sau"e to "harm.

'The a!ternoon has seemed very short, hasn)t it*' Then, 'This, + thin$, is the last time--we "an
visit.'

'The last* hy*'

'Oh, you will #e too #usy perhaps.'

He noted an evasive quality in the answer.

'%o + seem espe"ially industrious to you*'

'+! you are, you never loo$ it.'

':ot perspiring or #reathless, as a #usy man ought to #e.'

'6ut--'

'lways unhurried, too unhurried, and "alm.' 0he smiled to hersel!.

 

'+ wish that were true,' he said a!ter a meditative pause.

0he waited.

' man is happier i! he is, as you say, "alm and pla"id.'

'1i$e a "ara#ao in a mud pool,' she retorted perversely

'ho* +*'

'Oh, no/'

'8ou said + am "alm and pla"id.'

'That is what + thin$.'

'+ used to thin$ so too. 0hows how little we $now ourselves.'

+t was strange to him that he "ould #e wooing thus; with tone and loo$ and "overt phrase.

'+ should li$e to see your home town.'

'There is nothing to see--little "roo$ed streets, bunut  roo!s with !erns growing on them, and
sometimes squashes.'

That was the #a"$ground. +t made her seem less deta"hed, less unrelated, yet withal more distant,
as i! that #a"$ground "laimed her and e"luded him.

':othing* There is you.'

'Oh, me* 6ut + am here.'

'+ will not go, o! "ourse, until you are there.'

'ill you "ome* 8ou will !ind it dull. There isn)t even one meri"an there/'

'ell--meri"ans are rather essential to my entertainment.'

0he laughed.

'e live on &alle 1uz, a little street with trees.'

 

'&ould + !ind that*'

'+! you don)t as$ !or 4iss del 7alle,' she smiled teasingly.

'+)ll inquire a#out--'

'hat*'

'The house o! the prettiest girl in the town.'

'There is where you will lose your way.' Then she turned serious. ':ow, that is not quite
sin"ere.'

'+t is,' he averred slowly, #ut emphati"ally.

'+ thought you, at least, would not say su"h things.'

'(retty--pretty--a !oolish word/ 6ut there is none other more handy + did not mean that quite--'

're you withdrawing the "ompliment*'

'Re-en!or"ing it, may#e. 0omething is pretty when it pleases the eye--it is more than that
when--'

'+! it saddens*' she interrupted hastily.

'Ea"tly.'

'+t must #e ugly.'

'lways*'

Toward the west, the sunlight lay on the dimming waters in a #road, glinting streamer o!
"rimsoned gold.

':o, o! "ourse you are right.'

'hy did you say this is the last time*' he as$ed quietly as they turned #a"$.

'+ am going home.'

The end o! an impossi#le dream/

 

'hen*' a!ter a long silen"e.

'Tomorrow. + re"eived a letter !rom 5ather and 4other yesterday. They want me to spend Holy
ee$ at home.'

0he seemed to #e waiting !or him to spea$. 'That is why + said this is the last time.'

'&an)t + "ome to say good-#ye*'

'Oh, you don)t need to/'

':o, #ut + want to.'

'There is no time.'

The golden streamer was withdrawing, shortening, until it loo$ed no more than a pool !ar away
at the rim o! the world. 0tillness, a vi#rant quiet that a!!e"ts the senses as does solemn harmony2
a pea"e that is not "ontentment #ut a "essation o! tumult when all violen"e o! !eeling tones down
to the wist!ul serenity o! regret. 0he turned and loo$ed into his !a"e, in her dar$ eyes a ghost o!
sunset sadness.

'Home seems so !ar !rom here. This is almost li$e another li!e.'

'+ $now. This is Elsewhere, and yet strange enough, + "annot get rid o! the old things.'

'Old things*'

'Oh, old things, mista$es, en"um#ran"es, old #aggage.' He said it lightly, unwilling to mar the
hour. He wal$ed "lose, his hand sometimes tou"hing hers !or one whirling se"ond.

%on ulian)s nasal summons "ame to them on the wind.

l!redo gripped the so!t hand so near his own. t his tou"h, the girl turned her !a"e away, #ut he
heard her voi"e say very low, 'Good-#ye.'

++
 

15RE%O 0alazar turned to the right where, !arther on, the road #roadened and entered the
heart o! the town--heart o! &hinese stores sheltered under low-hung roo!s, o! indolent drug stores
and tailor shops, o! dingy shoe-repairing esta#lishments, and a "luttered goldsmith)s "u##yhole
where a "onsumptive #ent over a magni!ying lens2 heart o! old #ri"$-roo!ed houses with quaint
hand-and-#all $no"$ers on the door2 heart o! grass-grown plaza repose!ul with trees, o! an"ient
"hur"h andconvento, now "ir"led #y swallows gliding in !light as smooth and so!t as the
a!ternoon itsel!. +nto the qui"$ly deepening twilight, the voi"e o! the #iggest o! the "hur"h #ells
$ept ringing its insistent summons. 5lo"$ing "ame the devout with their long wa "andles, young
women in vivid apparel <!or this was Holy Thursday and the 1ord was still alive=, older women
in so#er #la"$ s$irts. &ame too the young men in droves, el#owing ea"h other under the talisay
tree near the "hur"h door. The gaily de"$ed ri"e-paper lanterns were again on display while !rom
the windows o! the older houses hung "olored glass glo#es, heirlooms !rom a day when grasspith
wi"$s !loating in "o"onut oil were the "hie! lighting devi"e.

0oon a dou#le row o! lights emerged !rom the "hur"h and un"oiled down the length o! the street
li$e a huge 3ewelled #and studded with glittering "lusters where the saints) plat!orms were.
#ove the measured musi" rose the untutored voi"es o! the "hoir, steeped in in"ense and the
a"rid !umes o! #urning wa.

The sight o! Esperanza and her mother sedately pa"ing #ehind Our 1ady o! 0orrows suddenly
destroyed the illusion o! "ontinuity and #ro$e up those lines o! light into "omponent individuals.
Esperanza sti!!ened sel!-"ons"iously, tried to loo$ unaware, and "ould not.

The line moved on.

0uddenly, l!redo)s slow #lood #egan to #eat violently, irregularly.  girl was "oming down the
line--a girl that was stri$ing, and vividly alive, the woman that "ould "ause violent "ommotion in
his heart, yet had no pla"e in the "ompleted ordering o! his li!e.

Her glan"e o! a#stra"ted devotion !ell on him and "ame to a #rie! stop.

The line $ept moving on, wending its "ir"uitous route away !rom the "hur"h and then #a"$ again,
where, a""ording to the old prover#, all pro"essions end.

t last Our 1ady o! 0orrows entered the "hur"h, and with her the priest and the "hoir, whose
voi"es now e"hoed !rom the ar"hed "eiling. The #ells rang the "lose o! the pro"ession.

 round orange moon, 'huge as a winnowing #as$et,' rose lazily into a "lear s$y, whitening the
iron roo!s and dimming the lanterns at the windows. long the still densely shadowed streets the
young women with their rear guard o! males loitered and, may#e, too$ the longest way home.
 

Toward the end o! the row o! &hinese stores, he "aught up with ulia 0alas. The "rowd had
dispersed into the side streets, leaving &alle Real to those who lived !arther out. +t was past eight,
and Esperanza would #e epe"ting him in a little while; yet the thought did not hurry him as he
said 'Good evening' and !ell into step with the girl.

'+ had #een thin$ing all this time that you had gone,' he said in a voi"e that was #oth e"ited and
trou#led.

':o, my sister as$ed me to stay until they are ready to go.'

'Oh, is the udge going*'

'8es.'

The provin"ial do"$et had #een "leared, and udge del 7alle had #een assigned elsewhere. s
lawyer--and as lover--l!redo had !ound that out long #e!ore.

'4r. 0alazar,' she #ro$e into his silen"e, '+ wish to "ongratulate you.'

Her tone told him that she had learned, at last. That was inevita#le.

'5or what*'

'5or your approa"hing wedding.'

0ome eplanation was due her, surely. 8et what "ould he say that would not o!!end*

'+ should have o!!ered "ongratulations long #e!ore, #ut you $now mere visitors are slow a#out
getting the news,' she "ontinued.

He listened not so mu"h to what she said as to the nuan"es in her voi"e. He heard nothing to
enlighten him, e"ept that she had reverted to the !ormal tones o! early a"quaintan"e. :o
revelation there2 simply the old voi"e--"ool, almost deta"hed !rom personality, !lei#le and
vi#rant, suggesting potentialities o! song.

're weddings interesting to you*' he !inally #rought out quietly

'hen they are o! !riends, yes.'

'ould you "ome i! + as$ed you*'

'hen is it going to #e*'

 

'4ay,' he replied #rie!ly, a!ter a long pause.

'4ay is the month o! happiness they say,' she said, with what seemed to him a shade o! irony.

'They say,' slowly, indi!!erently. 'ould you "ome*'

'hy not*'

':o reason. + am 3ust as$ing. Then you will*'

'+! you will as$ me,' she said with disdain.

'Then + as$ you.'

'Then + will #e there.'

The gravel road lay #e!ore them2 at the road)s end the lighted windows o! the house on the hill.
There swept over the spirit o! l!redo 0alazar a longing so $een that it was pain, a wish that, that
house were his, that all the #ewilderments o! the present were not, and that this woman #y his
side were his long wedded wi!e, returning with him to the pea"e o! home.

'ulita,' he said in his slow, thought!ul manner, 'did you ever have to "hoose #etween something
you wanted to do and something you had to do*'

':o/'

'+ thought may#e you had had that eperien"e2 then you "ould understand a man who was in
su"h a situation.'

'8ou are !ortunate,' he pursued when she did not answer.

'+s--is this man sure o! what he should do*'

'+ don)t $now, ulita. (erhaps not. 6ut there is a point where a thing es"apes us and rushes
downward o! its own weight, dragging us along. Then it is !oolish to as$ whether one will or will
not, #e"ause it no longer depends on him.'

'6ut then why--why--' her mu!!led voi"e "ame. 'Oh, what do + $now* That is his pro#lem a!ter
all.'

'%oesn)t it--interest you*'

 

'hy must it* +--+ have to say good-#ye, 4r. 0alazar2 we are at the house.'

ithout li!ting her eyes she qui"$ly turned and wal$ed away.

Had the !inal word #een said* He wondered. +t had. 8et a !ee#le !lutter o! hope trem#led in his
mind though set against that hope were three years o! engagement, a very near wedding, per!e"t
understanding #etween the parents, his own "ons"ien"e, and Esperanza hersel!--Esperanza
waiting, Esperanza no longer young, Esperanza the e!!i"ient, the literal-minded, the intensely
a"quisitive.

He loo$ed attentively at her where she sat on the so!a, appraisingly, and with a $ind o! aversion
whi"h he tried to "ontrol.

0he was one o! those !ortunate women who have the gi!t o! uni!ormly a""epta#le appearan"e.
0he never surprised one with unepe"ted homeliness nor with startling reserves o! #eauty. t
home, in "hur"h, on the street, she was always hersel!, a woman past !irst #loom, light and "lear
o! "ompleion, spare o! arms and o! #reast, with a slight "onveity to thin throat2 a woman
dressed with sel!-"ons"ious "are, even elegan"e2 a woman distin"tly not average.

0he was pursuing an indignant relation a#out something or other, something a#out &alita, their
note-"arrier, l!redo per"eived, so he merely hal!-listened, understanding imper!e"tly. t a pause
he drawled out to !ill in the gap; 'ell, what o! it*' The remar$ sounded ruder than he had
intended.

'0he is not married to him,' Esperanza insisted in her thin, nervously pit"hed voi"e. '6esides,
she should have thought o! us. :anay pra"ti"ally #rought her up. e never thought she would
turn out #ad.'

hat had &alita done* Homely, middle-aged &alita*

'8ou are very positive a#out her #adness,' he "ommented dryly. Esperanza was always positive.

'6ut do you approve*'

'O! what*'

'hat she did.'

':o,' indi!!erently.

'ell*'
 

He was suddenly impelled #y a desire to distur# the unveed orthodoy o! her mind. 'll + say is
that it is not ne"essarily wi"$ed.'

'hy shouldn)t it #e* 8ou tal$ed li$e an--immoral man. + did not $now that your ideas were li$e
that.'

'4y ideas*' he retorted, goaded #y a deep, a""umulated easperation. 'The only test + wish to
apply to "ondu"t is the test o! !airness. m + in3uring any#ody* :o* Then + am 3usti!ied in my
"ons"ien"e. + am right. 1iving with a man to whom she is not married--is that it* +t may #e
wrong, and again it may not.'

'0he has in3ured us. 0he was ungrate!ul.' Her voi"e was tight with resentment.

'The trou#le with you, Esperanza, is that you are--' he stopped, appalled #y the passion in his
voi"e.

'hy do you get angry* + do not understand you at all/ + thin$ + $now why you have #een
indi!!erent to me lately. + am not #lind, or dea!2 + see and hear what perhaps some are trying to
$eep !rom me.' The #lood surged into his very eyes and his hearing sharpened to points o! a"ute
 pain. hat would she say net*

'hy don)t you spea$ out !ran$ly #e!ore it is too late* 8ou need not thin$ o! me and o! what
 people will say.' Her voi"e trem#led.

l!redo was su!!ering as he "ould not remem#er ever having su!!ered #e!ore. hat people will
say--what will they not say* hat don)t they say when long engagements are #ro$en almost on
the eve o! the wedding*

'8es,' he said hesitatingly, di!!idently, as i! merely thin$ing aloud, 'one tries to #e !air--
a""ording to his lights--#ut it is hard. One would li$e to #e !air to one)s sel! !irst. 6ut that is too
easy, one does not dare--'

'hat do you mean*' she as$ed with repressed violen"e. 'hatever my short"omings, and no
dou#t they are many in your eyes, + have never gone out o! my way, o! my pla"e, to !ind a man.'

%id she mean #y this irrelevant remar$ that he it was who had sought her2 or was that a "overt
atta"$ on ulia 0alas*

'Esperanza--' a desperate plea lay in his stum#ling words. '+! you--suppose +--' 8et how "ould a
mere man word su"h a plea*
 

'+! you mean you want to ta$e #a"$ your word, i! you are tired o!--why don)t you tell me you are
tired o! me*' she #urst out in a storm o! weeping that le!t him "ompletely shamed and unnerved.

The last word had #een said.

+++

0 l!redo 0alazar leaned against the #oat rail to wat"h the evening settling over the la$e, he
wondered i! Esperanza would attri#ute any signi!i"an"e to this trip o! his. He was supposed to #e
in 0ta. &ruz whither the "ase o! the (eople o! the (hilippine +slands vs. 6elina et al had $ept him,
and there he would have #een i! 6rigida 0amuy had not #een so important to the de!ense. He had
to !ind that elusive old woman. That the sear"h was leading him to that parti"ular la$e town
whi"h was ulia 0alas) home should not distur# him unduly 8et he was distur#ed to a degree
utterly out o! proportion to the prosai"alness o! his errand. That inner tumult was no surprise to
him2 in the last eight years he had #e"ome used to su"h o""asional storms. He had long realized
that he "ould not !orget ulia 0alas. 0till, he had tried to #e "ontent and not to remem#er too
mu"h. The "lim#er o! mountains who has $nown the #a"$-#rea$, the lonesomeness, and the "hill,
!inds a "ertain rest!ulness in level paths made easy to his !eet. He loo$s up sometimes !rom the
valley where settles the dus$ o! evening, #ut he $nows he must not heed the radiant #e"$oning.
4ay#e, in time, he would "ease even to loo$ up.

He was not unhappy in his marriage. He !elt no re#ellion; only the "alm o! "apitulation to what
he re"ognized as irresisti#le !or"es o! "ir"umstan"e and o! "hara"ter. His li!e had simply ordered
itsel!2 no more struggles, no more stirring up o! emotions that got a man nowhere. 5rom his
"apa"ity o! "omplete deta"hment he derived a strange sola"e. The essential himsel!, the himsel!
that had its #eing in the "ore o! his thought, would, he re!le"ted, always #e !ree and alone. hen
"laims en"roa"hed too insistently, as sometimes they did, he retreated into the inner !astness, and
!rom that vantage he saw things and people around him as remote and alien, as in"idents that did
not matter. t su"h times did Esperanza !eel #a!!led and helpless2 he was gentle, even tender, #ut
immeasura#ly !ar away, #eyond her rea"h.

1ights were springing into li!e on the shore. That was the town, a little up-tilted town nestling in
the dar$ greenness o! the groves.  snu#"rested #el!ry stood #eside the an"ient "hur"h. On the
outs$irts the evening smudges glowed red through the sinuous mists o! smo$e that rose and lost
themselves in the purple shadows o! the hills. There was a young moon whi"h grew slowly
luminous as the "oral tints in the s$y yielded to the dar$er #lues o! evening.
 

The vessel approa"hed the landing quietly, trailing a wa$e o! long golden ripples on the dar$
water. (e"uliar hill in!le"tions "ame to his ears !rom the "rowd assem#led to meet the #oat--slow,
singing "aden"es, "hara"teristi" o! the 1aguna la$e-shore spee"h. 5rom where he stood he "ould
not distinguish !a"es, so he had no way o! $nowing whether the presidente was there to meet him
or not. ust then a voi"e shouted.

'+s the abogado there* Abogado!" 

'hat abogado?"  someone irately as$ed.

That must #e the presidente, he thought, and went down to the landing.

+t was a poli"eman, a tall po"$-mar$ed individual. The presidente had le!t with 6rigida 0amuy--
Tandang '6inday'--that noon !or 0anta &ruz. 0e9or 0alazar)s se"ond letter had arrived late, #ut
the wi!e had read it and said, 'Go and meet the abogado and invite him to our house.'

l!redo 0alazar "ourteously de"lined the invitation. He would sleep on #oard sin"e the #oat
would leave at !our the net morning anyway. 0o the presidente had re"eived his !irst letter*
l!redo did not $now #e"ause that o!!i"ial had not sent an answer. '8es,' the poli"eman replied,
'#ut he "ould not write #e"ause we heard that Tandang 6inday was in 0an ntonio so we went
there to !ind her.'

0an ntonio was up in the hills/ Good man, the presidente/ He, l!redo, must do something !or
him. +t was not every day that one met with su"h willingness to help.

Eight o)"lo"$, lugu#riously tolled !rom the #ell tower, !ound the #oat settled into a somnolent
quiet.  "ot had #een #rought out and spread !or him, #ut it was too #are to #e inviting at that
hour. +t was too early to sleep; he would wal$ around the town. His heart #eat !aster as he pi"$ed
his way to shore over the ra!ts made !ast to sundry piles driven into the water.

How pea"e!ul the town was/ Here and there a little tienda was still open, its dim light issuing
!orlornly through the single window whi"h served as "ounter. n o""asional "ouple sauntered #y,
the women)s chinelasma$ing s"raping sounds. 5rom a distan"e "ame the shrill voi"es o! "hildren
 playing games on the street--tubigan perhaps, or 'haw$-and-"hi"$en.' The thought o! ulia 0alas
in that quiet pla"e !illed him with a pitying sadness.

How would li!e seem now i! he had married ulia 0alas* Had he meant anything to her* That
un!orgetta#le red-and-gold a!ternoon in early pril haunted him with a sense o! in"ompleteness
as restless as other unlaid ghosts. 0he had not married--why* 5aith!ulness, he re!le"ted, was not a
"ons"ious e!!ort at regret!ul memory. +t was something unvolitional, may#e a re"urrent
awareness o! irrepla"ea#ility. +rrelevant tri!les--a "ool wind on his !orehead, !ar-away sounds as
 

o! voi"es in a dream--at times moved him to an oddly irresisti#le impulse to listen as to an

insistent, un!inished prayer.

 !ew inquiries led him to a "ertain little tree-"eilinged street where the young moon wove
indistin"t !iligrees o! !ight and shadow. +n the gardens the "otton tree threw its angular shadow
athwart the low stone wall2 and in the "ool, stilly midnight the "o"$)s !irst "all rose in tall,
soaring 3ets o! sound. &alle 1uz.

0omehow or other, he had $nown that he would !ind her house #e"ause she would surely #e
sitting at the window. here else, #e!ore #edtime on a moonlit night* The house was low and the
light in the sala #ehind her threw her head into unmista$a#le relie!. He sensed rather than saw
her start o! vivid surprise.

'Good evening,' he said, raising his hat.

'Good evening. Oh/ re you in town*'

'On some little #usiness,' he answered with a !eeling o! pain!ul "onstraint.

'on)t you "ome up*'

He "onsidered. His vague plans had not in"luded this. 6ut ulia 0alas had le!t the window,
"alling to her mother as she did so. !ter a while, someone "ame downstairs with a lighted
"andle to open the door. t last--he was sha$ing her hand.

0he had not "hanged mu"h--a little less slender, not so eagerly alive, yet something had gone. He
missed it, sitting opposite her, loo$ing thought!ully into her !ine dar$ eyes. 0he as$ed him a#out
the home town, a#out this and that, in a so#er, somewhat meditative tone. He "onversed with
in"reasing ease, though with a growing wonder that he should #e there at all. He "ould not ta$e
his eyes !rom her !a"e. hat had she lost* Or was the loss his* He !elt an impersonal "uriosity
"reeping into his gaze. The girl must have noti"ed, !or her "hee$ dar$ened in a #lush.

Gently--was it eperimentally*--he pressed her hand at parting2 #ut his own !elt undistur#ed and
emotionless. %id she still "are* The answer to the question hardly interested him.

The young moon had set, and !rom the uninviting "ot he "ould see one hal! o! a star-studded s$y.

0o that was all over.

hy had he o#stinately "lung to that dream*

 

0o all these years--sin"e when*--he had #een seeing the light o! dead stars, long etinguished,
yet seemingly still in their appointed pla"es in the heavens.

n immense sadness as o! loss invaded his spirit, a vast homesi"$ness !or some immuta#le
re!uge o! the heart !ar away where !aded gardens #loom again, and where live on in un"hanging
!reshness, the dear, dead loves o! vanished youth.

http;>>sushidog."om>#pss>stories>stars.htm
 
 

Analysis of "the Dead Stars"

n analysis o! the short story '%ead 0tars,' a story o! 'what i!' as a married managain meets the
woman he !ell in love with many years earlier while engaged to his wi!e.The story is #asi"ally a
"ompilation o! the "ompli"ated "ir"umstan"es that every man has togo through in li!e.
 
l!redo was on"e in love with Esperanza, no dou#t, #ut there "omes a time whenlove !ades, and
the only thing holding you together is the vow you gave your !ian"?e, thatwhi"h you "annot ta$e
 #a"$. hy "an)t you ta$e it #a"$* +ts #e"ause you are a!raid o! whatwill #e the rea"tion o! the
 people around you, spe"ially during the time o! the story. hat)svisi#ly wrong a#out this is that
most o!ten than not, men re!use to listen to their ownyearnings and simply su#mit to !urther
dehumanization.
 
1ove here, though perhaps genuine to a point, !or l!redo, is seemingly wea$ andpurposive.
ea$, #e"ause it is eventually over"ome #y propriety, and purposive #e"ause itwas merely a tool
to 3usti!y his desire to go against so"iety2 that !or on"e he will not #e apuppet, #ut the master o!
his own !ate. +n the story, l!redo !alls drasti"ally in love withulia even as he is engaged to
Esperanza, #ut in the end !orgoes the idea. He $ept onholding on to that glimmer o! 'what "ould
have #een' through out the years o! his marriageto Esperanza, #ut upon meeting ulia again, he
realizes that what he thought was there,had now gone !or more than one reason.
 
5irst, it is possi#le to say that a!ter what so"iety has done to him <dehumanizedhim=, he !ound at
 pea"e in his pla"e, and sought no more that illusive dream o! yesterday.He understood, a!ter
meeting her again, that it was nostalgia that was ta$ing hold o! hisheart, and not the 'love' that
he on"e !elt !or her. +t is said in the story that he is notunhappy with his marriage, #ut a part o!
him always slips away !rom the world in order todream o! another li!e that "ould have
 #lossomed, had he "hose ulia over Esperanza. On theother hand, it is possi#le that there was no
real love to spea$ o!, #ut a desire !or somethingelse. He desired youth. lthough relatively
young, he desired the qualities that the youth!ulpossessed; vigor, passion, vitality. These are a
!ew things that he la"$ed as a person and to!ind these in ulia gave him a sense o! "ompleteness.
+t was a wel"omed "hanged in his li!e,and he wanted to hold on to it !or as long as he "ould,
sin"e even i! he "ouldn)t #e li$e ulia,he is "om!orted #y the thought that he was a#le to meet
someone who is di!!erent !romevery#ody else, and that she "ould have #een his wi!e. He is noted
to #e o! a "ool and "almdemeanor, whi"h is why it seems out o! "hara"ter i! he suddenly #ursts
with energy.
 
%ead stars sym#olize things that are present #ut are le!t unspo$en o!. The love#etween l!redo
and ulia seemed real, #ut loo$ "loser and one "an state that it was hardlymutual, and that it was
impossi#le to last. Esperanza)s devotion to l!redo also resem#leslove, #ut sin"e she #elieves in
the 'regenerative virtue o! institution' more than true love, itis sa!e to say that she is in the
relationship, #e"ause o! moral o#ligation. 0o what onethought as real <or present= is now nothing
 #ut an illusion.
 
 

0our"e; http;>>mar3mag.#logspot."om>@ABB>AC>analysis-o!-dead-stars.html
 

Alfredo Salazar from Paz Marquez-

Benitez’ "Dead Stars" A !harater
Analysis
<+n whi"h + pose another attempt toward rea"tivation.=
 
DDD
 
(az 4arquez-6enitez, in her masterpie"e
%ead 0tars,
did not only write a#out a love story. 4ost importantly,

 
her writing re!le"ts the time in whi"h the literary wor$ was written along with the language, the
norms and theway people thin$. +t serves as a literary time ma"hine !or readers as it ena#les them
to understand how"ourtship, marriage and !idelity were viewed through the early BAA standards.
+t renders a sound "omparison#etween the past and the present, the eisting modern "ulture and
the !ading, almost o#solete tradition. lthough the "omparison and "ontrast provides a good
"riti"al !oundation, another highly signi!i"ant aspe"t o! this short story involves the main
"hara"ter, l!redo 0alazar, whi"h, always applies to whatever era, hen"e the!o"us o! this paper.
His "on!usion, wea$ness and unreasona#leness are innate !laws o! humans. (erhaps oneo! the
many reasons why this wor$ is timeless is that readers never !ail to see a part o! them in l!redo
0alazarFs "hara"ter, ma$ing the short story a ri"h sour"e o! serious ruminatio
ns on so"iety, love and humanity.
 
(eople o!tentimes give high regard to the so"iety in whi"h they #elong. They try to adhere to the
norms,traditions and "ulture o! their so"iety, though sometimes the "on!ormity would require
them to sa"ri!i"e a part o! themselves
  
an opinion, an emotion or a de"ision. However, there are "ases wherein the esta#lished normsand
rules o! so"iety are the ones whi"h should prevail. +n
%ead 0tars
, the main "hara"ter, l!redo 0alazar, wastorn #etween ma$ing two important de"isions
  
to marry or not to marry. 6ut 3ust li$e other dilemmas, the"rossroad in whi"h he !ound himsel! in
was not to #e solved without harming anyone. He was engaged toEsperanza, his !ian"?e o! !our
years. Theirs was undou#tedly a love that was true. 6ut !or some reasons,
apparently on l!redoFs part, a "hange o! heart has ta$en pla"e. He has !allen !or ulia 0alas, the
sister
-in-lawo! the 3udge whom his !ather had a meeting with. !ter spending several a!ternoons and
"onversations, he!ound himsel! slowly getting atta"hed to her that he started losing "on"ern
!or Esperanza. +n the end, however,he married his !ian"?e and though their marriage was not an
 

unhappy one, he still "ould not ta$e thepossi#ilities o! a !uture with ulia o!! his mind. Until one
day, their paths "rossed again and he realized onepain!ul truth that led him to li#eration at last.
 
Human emotions are very intri"ate and deli"ate #oth at its lowest and highest. nd so is love.
hen l!redowas still passionately atta"hed to Esperanza, he
was overwhelmed. Ta$ing the "onversation o! l!redoFs sister,
&armen, and his !ather, %on ulian into "onsideration, readers "an deli#erately "on"lude that he
was indeed inlove.
 
. . . (apa, do you remem#er how mu"h in love he was*I
 
+n love* ith whom*I
 
ith Esperanza o! "ourse. He has not had another love a!!air that + $now o!,I she said with
good
-natured
"ontempt. hat + mean is that in the #eginning he was enthusiasti"  
!lowers, serenades, notes and things li$e
that.F
 
The e"erpt was a good mani!
estation o! how "hange in men o""urs. 6ut sin"e "hange is menFs wine and#readI a""ording to
ngela 4analang
-Gloria, it is as essential as living itsel!, and there!ore the most importantthings to #e "onsidered
a!ter the transition are the "auses, the way one deals with "hange and the"onsequen"es. l!redo
was aware o! the "ause o! his "hange as what is shown in the !ollowing paragraph;
 
hy would men so mismanage their lives* Greed, he thought, was what ruined so many. Greed
  
the desire to"rowd into a moment all the en3oyment it will hold, to squeeze !rom the hour all the
emotions it will yield. 4en"ommit themselves when #ut hal!-meaning to do so, sa"ri!i"ing
 possi#le !uture !ullness o! e"stasy to the"raving !or immediate e"itement. . . nother signi!i"ant
reason as to his emotional wanderings "ould #e the length o! time n whi"h he was engagedo
Esperanza. s what %on ulian had philosophize, "ouples who were engaged !or so long #e"ome
too"om!orta#le and !amiliar with ea"h other that the spar$ o! love that was !elt at the time the
roman"e was 3uststarting to #lossom would epe"tantly "ool down
  
 
that it argues a "ertain pla"idity o! temperament  
or o! a!!e"tion
  
 
 

on the part o! either, or #othI.

 
nother !a"tor to #e "onsidered was the "ontrast o! 
l!redo and uliaFs personalities. l!redo was "alm andpla"idI while ulia was lively and !ull o!
vitality. The di!!eren"e #etween them must have e"ited him as he saw
in her the things he la"$ed.
 
However, though aware he was o! the possi#le reasons why he, as well as men, or even humans
in general,su""um# to a"ts or thoughts o! su#tle in!idelity, his attitude towards what is moral and
not #e"omes shadowedin the attempts to 3usti!y his own #ehavior. 0tan"es a#out the argument he
had with Esperanza regarding the
latterFs anger toward &alitaFs "oha#itation with the man sheFs not married to, may vary. 6ut
again, oneFs a"t

 
was epe"ted to adhere with what is the esta#lished morality in a "ertain so"iety. 6e"ause o!
what seemed asa li#eral notion, l!redo was trapped in a situation where he has to de!end
himsel! and in the pro"ess, what wasmani!ested was his greed.
 
One tries to #e !air  
a""ording to his lights
  
 
 #ut it is hard. One would li$e to #e !air to oneFs sel! !irst.I
 6ut the wedding materialized2 He "hose not to #rea$ his word pro#a#ly in order to save himsel!,
Esperanza andulia !rom so"ial ridi"ule. He !elt that his moral and so"ial o#ligations were
already !ul!illed upon "hoosing not to"ause humiliation to them all. The way in whi"h he
"hose to deal with his internal "hange was to "onsider theway in whi"h the so"iety will view the
 people involved. 6ut perhaps he !elt that in doing so he has deprivedhimsel! o! !airness. 0o he
 #e"ame distant and unrea"ha#le to Esperanza although he stayed with her andtreated her gently.
He has developed the s$ill in #eing una!!e"ted and somehow mastered the art o! #eingdeta"hed.
 
!ter several years, he was sent #y his pro!ession in sear"h !or the elusive 6rigida 0amuy and
into thehometown o! ulia 0alas. Upon seeing her and !inding out that she never married, he
started to noti"e that shelost something, even dou#ted i! the loss was his. s he tried to !ind the
answer, a great realization dawned onhim.
 
Gently
  
was it eperimentally*
  
 

he pressed her hand at parting2 #ut his remained undistur#ed andemotionless. %id she still "are*
The answer to the question hardly interested him.. . . 0o all these years
  
sin"e when*
  
he had seen the light o! dead stars, long etinguished, yet seeminglystill in their appointed pla"es
in the heavens.There!ore, the love he thought he !elt !or her during the short summer they shared
was not the love that wasenough to #rea$ an engagement. :or was it love in its stri"test
de!inition. +nstead, it was desire that sprung!rom the "oldness that slowly "rept in his relationship
with Esperanza due to their long-time !amiliarity with ea"h
other. +t was e"itement that was ignited #y #oredom and the last spurt o! hot #lood.I
  l!redo sym#olizes the greed and inde"isiveness o! men when it "omes to dealing with the
matters o! theemotion. He had entertained the pull o! an anonymous !eeling. nonymous sin"e
he never really ventured tounderstand it #ut he "lung to it anyway. nd in the pro"ess he lost
a part o! himsel! and deprived that part toEsperanza as well.Had it not #een !or "hasing the
lights o! an illusive love that was long dead, or worse, never was, would l!redo#e happier in his
marriage* +s it !air to say that he has wasted the milestones o! a #liss!ul marriage with awoman
he loved !irst all !or the sa$e o! an impossi#le whim* &onsidering the disappointment he
mani!estedupon realizing what he lost, the answer, is yes.
0our"e; http;>>#i#liophili"nightowl.#logspot."om>@ABB>AB>al!redo-salazar-!rom-paz-
marquez.html
 

%ead 0tars is one o! the best Phili##ine short stories  that has already tested time and generations. +t
has endured de"ades o! "hanging ideals and trends, #ut the !a"t still remains that itFs one o!
those stories that everyone "an still relate to, !rom teenagers who are 3ust #eginning to #e
interested in the opposite se, to those people who have already loved and lost it. The story %ead
0tars has immortalized (az 4arquez 6enitez in the minds and hearts o! readers and non-readers
ali$e. 4ost teenagers today would tell you that they have "ome a"ross the story #e"ause it had
 #een required #y their tea"hers in s"hool. Only a !ew would have a"tually read it #e"ause they
wanted to. Either way, a!ter youFve read the story, it would sti"$ to you not only #e"ause youFre
required to, #ut #e"ause it will !eel li$e itFs a new eperien"e to you that you 3ust $now youFll
!orever treasure. :ot a lot o! sour"es today will give you summary of Dead Stars by Paz Marquez
Benitez, #e"ause they will thin$ it "ruel to ruin the story !or you. However,you may !ind a !ew
good sour"es giving you a #rie! #ut very dense analysis o! the story, should you have enough
 patien"e to loo$ through the we#.5or those loo$ing !or the analysis o! %ead 0tars #y (az 4arquez
6enitez , you will !ind the ones that are online help!ul to you not only in realizing things a#out the
story that you didnFt thin$ were possi#le, #ut also #e"ause it will give you a !resh outloo$ a#out
the #est (hilippine short stories and the Phili##ine e#istories as well.(ersonally, + would rather
you read the short story !irst, so you "an en3oy reading more the Dead Stars by Paz Marquez
Benitez analysis  that youFre loo$ing
!or. +n"identally, there is a poem that has #een "reated as answer to the premise o! this short
story. +! you want to read that as well, you "an visit this site on  $ili#ino #oems%
 
0our"e; http;>>www.patulong."om>dead-stars-#y-paz-marquez-#enitez-analysis>
 

The short story, '%ead 0tars' was written during the meri"an
&olonization o! the (hilippines, a time when the modern short story,
"riti"al essay, and !ree verse poetry were introdu"ed. English was the
medium o! learning, and #e"ame, as well, the language o! the learned.
This was also the time when utilitarian literature was slowly #eing
overshadowed #y the individualisti", modern view o! "reating 'art !or
art)s sa$e'.

&'TERPRETAT&('

%ead 0tars is a story a#out the !i"$leness o! l!redo 0alazar, a man in

his thirties who is a#out to #e married to a woman named Esperanza
a!ter !our years o! their #eing engaged. +t #egins with l!redo staring out
!rom the open window, who is #eing tal$ed a#out #y his !ather and sister 
regarding his marriage and his love li!e. e are told that he was so in
love, that 'at the #eginning he was enthusiasti"--!lowers, serenades,
notes, and things li$e that--' towards Esperanza. 6ut his sister has
o#served that something has happened to him, that he was no longer
aggressive and perhaps, youth!ul. Their !ather then eplains that it is
normal, that long-engaged people are 'warm now, "ool tomorrow', that
l!redo was having his 'last spurt o! hot #lood'.

l!redo '!ell in love' with another woman in 3ust a !ew wee$s o! his
'neigh#oring' to the 4artinez Residen"e, where ulia 0alas stayed !or
her visit. ulia too, seemed to have !allen !or l!redo, #ut #oth $new that
what they had was against, perhaps, morality, and was su#3e"t to the
s"rutiny and 3udgement o! the so"iety. l!redo, #eing an engaged man,
should not involve himsel! with others. 6ut he "hose to live a lie, he
 #elieved he !ound 'youth' and 'heart)s desire' up in the hills with ulia.
He always reasoned that ' +! a man were married, why, o! "ourse, he
loved his wi!e2 i! he were engaged, he "ould not possi#ly love another
 

woman.'

6ut then he immersed himsel! in an illusion, in a dream that he "an

 possi#ly #e with ulia despite hurting Esperanza, and o! "ourse, #rea$ing
a lot o! so"iety)s rules. +n the end, in his !inal en"ounter with ulia where
the girl did not seem to respond to his last show o! love, there he was
redeemed !rom that delusion, that all along he was holding on to
nothing2 that all along he was loo$ing at dead stars.

D0tars that appear presently to the na$ed eye on the s$y are already
dead. They are light years away !rom us.

http;>>melonagra"e.wee#ly."om>dead-stars-#y-paz-marquez-#enitez.html