They were happy to sign contracts as they had not seen in your life. Their signatures Articles, helped to sell the magazine in that worked and make more money to Antonio. But on the other hand, when the respective publication broke the writers ran out of cash. “I have the solution to your problem-les said the editor to each of them when they came to him made a basilisk. The authors, trapped by the expectation bygone revenues had never come to have, I listened, eager to grasp at straws. “I have the argument for a novel that, if you type in a couple of months, do you win a new prize for literature that I will create.

Well. There was to establish a priority among the authors of their block, to use a horse racing terminology, as all could not win the award simultaneously. In any case, not a writer left to accept the proposal as the only alternative was to stay composed and without income. With these rushes, the prize became the most prestigious in the country and started selling like hotcakes novels. It was a simple matter of calculation, “said Don Antonio to the attentive chronicler wearing his white coat,” the best writers had secured the reputation of the award and could pay very well, in turn, to claim that prize was best and cheapest advertising possible for my new literary collection. So, until today. – He says that the arguments of the winning novels have always been with you? “Sure, my son. What do you want a man with boundless imagination reward my arguments sixpenny author timid and accommodating, with fewer neurons than a mosquito? No, man, no! They have been writing, the pen, that is their business.

Imagination, ideas, arguments … have been mine. If not, would not have been worth a damn. The languid afternoon had yawned long time ago and was about to lie down in the shadows of the night. Manolo looked at his head with undisguised admiration, as if waiting for another revelation, a slogan, whatever. But the old man was silent, taking the same attitude and vegetative dormant from the start. Carefully, as if afraid to leave him abruptly from his reverie, nurses dare to ask you a question: – Why, if you have never told no none of this, she tells me now to me? Don Antonio Maria Hinojosa Alvarez sat silent, as if he had died suddenly. Only a slight tremor of his right hand indicated that the billionaire was still in this world. Suddenly, he opened his eyes as the headlights of a locomotive, grinned and asked in turn to the young man – you still do not know why I have done? “Well, no. “Because you are so shameless and so amoral as me. “No … I do not understand. “Of course I understand. You’re not a nurse, but a journalist who has sought how they used to be near me to see what could get from her. Well, you see. I never deceived anyone. Not you. What do you think? But I’ve explained everything. Only a scoundrel can fully understand another. That is why what I’ve told all my life. There was silence while the evening. Then the old man told the young, as though handing the baton in a race cloudy relays: “And now, please, take me to bed, I need rest.