I am going to begin then, your Excellency, by writing what God wills to bring to my mind about Francisco. I hope that our Lord will make him know in Heaven what I am writing about him on earth, so that he may intercede for me with Jesus and Mary, especially during these coming days. The affection that bound me to Francisco was just one of kinship, and one which had its origin in the graces which Heaven designed to grant us. Apart from his features and his practice of virtue, Francisco did not seem at all to be Jacinta’s brother. Unlike her, he was neither capricious nor vivacious. On the contrary, he was quiet and submissive by nature.
When we were at play and he won the game, if anyone made a point of denying him his rights as a winner, he yielded without more ado and merely said, “You think you won? That’s all right, I don’t mind!” He showed no love for dancing, as Jacinta did; he much preferred playing the flute while the others danced. In our games he was quite lively; but few of us liked to play with him as he nearly always lost. I must confess that I myself did not always feel too kindly disposed towards him, as his naturally calm temperament exasperated my own excessive vivacity. Sometimes, I caught him by the arm, made him sit down on the ground or on a stone, and told him to keep still; he obeyed me as if I had real authority over him. Afterwards, I felt sorry, and went and took him by the hand, and he would come along with me good–humored as if nothing had happened. If one of the other children insisted on taking something away from him, he said “Let them have it! What do I care?”
I recall how, one day, he came to my house and was delighted to show me a handkerchief with a picture of our Lady of Nazarene on it, which someone had bought him from the seaside. All the children gathered round him to admire it. The handkerchief was passed from hand to hand, and in a few minutes it disappeared. We looked for it, but it was nowhere to be found. A little later, I found it myself in another small boy’s pocket. I wanted to take it away from him, but he insisted that it was his own, and that someone had bought him one from the beach as well. To put an end to the quarrel, Francisco then went up to him and said, “Let him have it! What does a handkerchief matter to me?” My own opinion is that, if he had lived to manhood, his greatest defect would have been his attitude of “never mind”!
When I was seven and began to take our sheep out to pasture, he seemed to be quite indifferent. In the evenings, he waited for me in my parents' yard with his little sister, but this was not out of affection for me, but rather to please her. As soon as Jacinta saw the tinkling of the sheep bells, she ran out to meet me; whereas Francisco waited for me, sitting in the stone steps leading up to our front door. Afterwards he came with us to play on the old threshing floor while we watched for Our Lady and the Angels to light their lamps. He eagerly counted the stars with us, but nothing enchanted him as much as the beauty of sunrise and sunset. As long as he could still glimpse one last ray of the setting sun, he made no attempt to watch for the first lamp to be lit in the sky. “No lamp is as beautiful as Our Lord’s” he used to remark to Jacinta, who much preferred Our Lady’s lamp, because as she explained: “It doesn’t hurt our eyes.”
Enraptured he watched the sun rays glinting on the window panes of the homes in the neighboring villages, or glistening in the drops of water which spangled the trees and furze bushes of the serra, making them shine like so many stars; in his eyes these were a thousand times more beautiful than the Angels’ lamps. When he persisted in pleading with his mother to let him take care of the flock and therefore come along with me, it was more to please Jacinta than anything else, for she much preferred Francisco’s company to that of her brother John.
One day his mother, already quite annoyed, refused this permission and he answered with his usual tranquility: “Mother, it doesn’t matter to me, it was more to please Jacinta who wants me to go.” He confirmed this on yet another occasion. One of my companions came to my house to invite me to go with her, as she had a particularly good pasturage in view for that day. As the sky was overcast I went to my aunt’s house to enquire who was going out that day, Francisco and Jacinta, or their brother John; in case of the latter, I preferred the company of my former companion. My aunt had already decided that, as it looked like rain, John should go. But Francisco went to his mother again and insisted on going himself. He received a curt and decided “No!” Whereupon he exclaimed: “It’s all the same with me. It is Jacinta who felt badly about it.”