In the town of San Pita, near the plaza and below the bells of the old monastery, stood the weeping statue of Saint Agnes. It had been cut from a large stone pulled from the mountains and was very old. Sometimes tears would well up from cracks around her eyes and they'd worn deep grooves down her cheeks. When the statue wept, the bells would be rung and all the people who lived in the town would come to see it and pray.
The weeping statue had been both famous and forgotten many times, until most recently when a young priest arrived to see the statue for himself. The town welcomed him and made a room for the priest above a small canteen that served sweet breads and lechon, and smelled of strong coffee in the afternoon. Next door lived a maker of guitars and most often he would whistle all day long and play a new guitar every night.
After his morning prayers each day, the priest went to the weeping statue and then he would return to the canteen. In his journal the priest made notes of what he had seen.
"The statue does not weep today," he'd write, and after a moment he would put his pencil down.
The guitar maker had a daughter remarkable for her beauty. Her hair was thick and black and she always wore a yellow dress with a blue apron as she swept her father's shop. She had an affection for jewelry, for bracelets and bangles, and the girl had a great many that she would wear all at once. The girl would jingle softly when she moved and the sound made the priest look up and he'd watch her dance.