I rush into the barn to grab Francisco.

You rip off your shirt–not very modest, but now is hardly the time for modesty–soak it in the water trough, and run into the barn.

It's like running into an oven. The flames are higher and hotter every second as they gobble down the stacks of hay. You use the wet shirt to beat aside the fire for just long enough to reach Francisco. Then you grab his hand and run, pulling him after you. Flames hiss in your ears and lick at your shoes, and both his clothing and yours is on fire when you stagger into the barnyard. The grooms are there by then; they grab Francisco and you and push you down into the dirt, smothering out the flames.

You hear shouting. It seems that Clara succeeded in waking the household, and here they all are–your mother and father and siblings and most of the servants. Your father takes charge of the situation, and under his management, the fire is quickly put out. Your mother cries, alternately praising you for saving Francisco and berating you and Francisco both for stupidity.

When the excitement is over, the entire family returns to the house.