In the beginning of her ordeal, Azucena seems quietly resigned to the death that awaits her. The narrator notes a calm acceptance as Rolf begins his attempts to rescue the girl:
The girl could not move, she barely could breathe, but she did not seem desperate, as if an ancestral resignation allowed her to accept her fate.
It would be understandable for a young girl to be in a panic in such a situation, but Azucena accepts the truth of what is happening to her.
Azucena endures entrapment, pain (both physical and mental), and fever as she clings to life. At every turn, aid is thwarted, and Rolf cannot obtain the pump or the antibiotics that she desperately needs. She does not wallow in self-pity and even tries to comfort her new friend as he remains by her side:
“Don’t cry. I don’t hurt anymore. I’m fine,” Azucena said
when dawn came.
As the hours continue to pass, she and Rolf share their greatest hopes and fears with each other. After many conversations and many hours, it becomes clear that Azucena is going to die and Rolf finally prays for her to die quickly and therefore lessen her torture.
In the end, Azucena faces her death with the same brave resignation which seems to define her personality:
Azucena gave up, her eyes locked with those of the friend who had sustained her to the end. Rolf Carlé removed the life buoy, closed her eyelids, held her to his chest for a few moments, and then let her go. She sank slowly, a flower in the mud.
She doesn't leave her life in fear but in the assurance of that she's been comforted by a friend who has shown her great kindness. She clings to life for as long as her body can physically do so, and then she quietly gives up her battle, calmly accepting her final fate.