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He put out his cigarette, lighted another, crossed his legs, those listening leaned their heads forward so as not to lose a single word, and he listening to his own tired voice: the twenty-sixth had been declared a holiday, instructions had been given to the principals of private and public schools to bring their students to the square, that would guarantee a good turnout, and Mrs. Heredia would be watching the rally from a balcony of the City Hall, so tall, so serious, so white, so elegant, and in the meantime, he would already be at the ranch house convincing the maid: a thousand, two thousand, three thousand soles, Quetita? But of course, he smiled and with a glance saw that they were all smiling, it wasn’t a question of the President’s talking to schoolchildren, and the maid would say fine, three thousand, wait here and she’d hide him behind a screen. He had also calculated that civil servants would attend, but that wouldn’t mean many people, and he there, motionless, hidden in the dark, would wait, looking at the vicuñ a rugs and the pictures and the broad bed with a canopy and curtains. He coughed, uncrossed his legs: the propaganda had been organized, besides. News items in the local press and on the radio, cars and vans with loudspeakers would go through the city passing out handbills and that would attract more people and he would count the minutes, the seconds, and feel his bones dissolving and icy drops running down his back and finally: there she would be, there she would come. But, and he leaned over and faced the men crowded together with charm and humility, since Cajamarca was an agricultural center it was hoped that the main body of those at the rally would come from the countryside, and that depended on you gentlemen. He would see her there, tall, white, elegant, serious, she would come in and sail across the vicuñ a rug and he would hear I’m so tired and she would call for her Quetita. Permit me, Don Cayo, Senator Heredia said, Don Remigio Saldí var, President of the Reception Committee and one of the most representative figures of those involved in agriculture in Cajamarca, has something to say about the rally, and he saw a heavy-set man, tan as an ant, strangled by a jowly neck, stand up in the second row. And there Quetita would come and she would tell her I’m tired, I want to go to bed, help me and Quetita would help her, would slowly undress her and he would watch, feel every pore in his body grow warm, millions of tiny craters on his skin begin to erupt. You’ll have to excuse me, all of you and especially you, Mr. Bermú dez, Don Remigio Saldí var cleared his throat, he was a man of action, not speeches, that is, I can’t speak as well as Fleafoot Heredia and the senator gave a chuckle and there was an outburst of laughter. He opened his mouth, wrinkled his face, and there she would be, white, naked, serious, elegant, motionless, while Quetita would delicately take off her stockings, kneeling at her feet, and with laughter they all celebrated Don Remigio Saldí var’s oratorical prowess concerning his lack of oratory, and he heard come to the point Remigio, that’s Cajamarca Don Remigio: she would roll them in slow motion and he would see the maid’s hands, so large, so dark, so rough, lowering, lowering them over the legs that were so white, so white, and Don Remigio Saldí var assumed a hieratic expression: getting down to the matter at hand he wanted to tell them that he shouldn’t worry, Mr. Bermú dez, they had thought about it, discussed it and taken all the necessary measures. Now she would have lain down on the bed and he would discern her lying white and perfect behind the curtains, and he would hear her you get undressed too Queta, come here Quetita. There wasn’t even any need for the schoolchildren or the civil servants, there’d be so many people they wouldn’t fit in the square, Mr. Bermú dez: it would be better for them to stick to their books and their jobs. Quetita would get undressed and she quick, quick, and her shoes would fall noiselessly on the vicuñ a rug. Don Remigio Saldí var made an energetic gesture: we’ll supply the people for the rally, not the government, the people of Cajamarca wanted the President to have a good impression of our region. Now Quetita would run, fly, her long arms would pull and separate the curtains and her big burned body would silently descend onto the sheets: keep that in mind, Mr. Bermú dez. He had changed his merry tone and his rustic mannerisms for a grave, proud voice and solemn gestures and they were all listening: the agricultural community had collaborated magnificently in the preparations, and the business and professional men too, keep that in mind. And he would come out from behind the screen and get closer, his body would be like a torch, he would go up to the curtains, he would look and his heart would be in agony: keep in mind that we’ll have forty thousand men in the square, if not more. There they would be under his eyes, embracing, smelling each other, perspiring on each other, getting all knotted together and Don Remigio Saldí var paused to take out a cigarette and look for matches, but Deputy Azpilcueta lighted it for him: it wasn’t a problem of people, far from it, Mr. Bermú dez, but transportation, as he’d already explained to Fleafoot Heredia, laughter, and he automatically opened his mouth and wrinkled his brow. They couldn’t come up with the number of trucks they needed to bring the people from the ranches and then back again, and Don Remigio Saldí var let out a mouthful of smoke that whitened his face: we’ve found twenty-odd buses and trucks, but they’d need a lot more. He leaned forward in his chair: you don’t have to worry about that part, Mr. Saldí var, they could count on all facilities. The dark hands and the white ones, the thick-lipped mouth and the thin-lipped one, the rough, inflated nipples and the small, crystalline, soft ones, the tanned thighs and the transparent ones with blue veins, the dark straight hair and the golden curls: the military commandant would furnish them with all the trucks they needed, Mr. Saldí var, and he wonderful, Mr. Bermú dez, that’s what we were going to ask for, if they had transportation they’d fill up the square as no one had ever seen in the history of Cajamarca. And he: you can all count on that, Mr. Saldí var. But there was also another matter he wanted to talk to them about.

“You took me by such surprise I didn’t have time to get all worked up, ” Santiago said.

“The old man’s in hiding, ” Sparky said, getting serious. “Popeye’s father took him to his ranch. I came to let you know. ”

“In hiding? ” Santiago asked. “Because of the trouble in Arequipa? ”

“That bastard Bermú dez has had the house watched for a month, ” Sparky said. “Plainclothesmen follow the old man night and day. Popeye had to sneak him out in his car. Well, I imagine it won’t occur to them to look for him on Aré valo’s ranch. He wanted you to know about it, in case anything happened. ”

“Uncle Clodomiro told me that the old man had joined the Coalition, that he’d broken with Bermú dez, ” Santiago said. “But I didn’t know that things were that serious. ”

“You’ve already seen what happened in Arequipa, ” Sparky said. “The Arequipans are standing firm. A general strike until Bermú dez resigns. They’re going to get him out, God damn it. Just imagine, the old man was all set to go to that rally. Aré valo talked him out of it at the last minute. ”

“But I don’t understand, ” Santiago said. “Did Popeye’s father break with Odrí a too? Isn’t he still the Odrí ist leader in the senate? ”

“Officially, yes, ” Sparky said. “But underneath he’s fed up with those shitheads too. He’s behaved very well with the old man. Better than you, Superbrain. With all the trouble the old man’s been going through this time, you still didn’t go to see him. ”

“Was he sick? ” Santiago asked. “Uncle Clodomiro didn’t …”

“Not sick, but with a noose around his neck, ” Sparky said. “Didn’t you know that after the little trick you played on him by running away that something worse fell on him? That son of a bitch Bermú dez thought he was mixed up in Espina’s plot and set out to fuck him. ”

“Oh yes, that, ” Santiago said. “Uncle Clodomiro told me that he’d taken away the concession the laboratory had in the armed forces post exchanges. ”

“That was nothing, the worst part was that business with the construction company, ” Sparky said. “They haven’t given us another nickel, they stopped all pay orders and we have to keep on paying off the letters of credit. And they’ve demanded that the work continue at the same pace and threaten us with a suit for breach of contract. A war to the death against the old man, to sink him. But the old man is a fighter and he won’t give in, that’s what’s so great about him. He joined the Coalition and …”

“I’m glad the old man has turned against the government, ” Santiago said. “I’m glad that you’re not an Odrí ist anymore too. ”

“You mean you’re glad we’re heading into ruin. ” Sparky smiled.

“Tell me about mama, about Teté, ” Santiago said. “Uncle Clodomiro says she’s going with Popeye, is that true? ”

“The one who’s happy about your running away is Uncle Clodomiro. ” Sparky laughed. “With the excuse of bringing news from you, he pops by the house three times a week. Yes, she’s going with Freckle Face, they don’t keep such a tight rein on her anymore, they even let her go out to dinner with him on Saturdays. They’ll end up getting married, I imagine. ”

“Mama must be happy, ” Santiago said. “She’s been planning that match ever since Teté was born. ”

“All right, now you tell me, ” Sparky said, trying to appear jovial, but blushing. “When are you going to stop this foolishness, when are you coming back to live at home? ”

“I’m never going back to live at home, Sparky, ” Santiago said. “We’d better change the subject. ”

“And why aren’t you ever going to come back to live at home? ” pretending to be surprised, Zavalita, trying to make you believe he didn’t believe. “What have the folks done to you to make you not want to live with them? Stop playing the nut, man. ”

“Let’s not get into a fight, ” Santiago said. “Do me a favor instead. Take me to Chorrillos, I’ve got to pick up a colleague, we’re going on an assignment together. ”

“I didn’t come to pick a fight with you, but nobody can figure you out, ” Sparky said. “You pick up and move overnight without anyone’s having done anything to you, you don’t show your face again, you fight with everybody in the family just because you feel like it. How in hell do you think anyone could ever figure you out, damn it? ”

“Don’t figure me out, just take me to Chorrillos, I’m late, ” Santiago said. “You’ve got time, haven’t you? ”

“O. K., ” Sparky said. “O. K., Superbrain, I’ll take you. ”

He started up the motor and turned on the radio. They were giving news about the strike in Arequipa.

“Excuse me, I didn’t want to bother you, but I have to pick up my clothes, I’m leaving on a trip right away. ” And Ludovico’s face and voice were as bitter as if it were a trip to the grave. “Hello, Amalia. ”

Without looking at her, as if she were something Ludovico had seen in his room all his life, Amalia felt terribly ashamed. Ludovico had knelt down by the bed and was dragging out a suitcase. He began to put the clothes hanging from the hooks on the wall into the valise. He wasn’t even surprised to see you, stupid girl, he knew you were there, Ambrosio had probably borrowed the room in order to, it was a lie that they had to see each other, Ludovico had just happened to come by. Ambrosio seemed uncomfortable. He had sat down on the bed and was smoking while he watched Ludovico arrange his shirts and socks in the suitcase.

“They take you here, they send you there, ” Ludovico was grumbling to himself. “What kind of a life is this? ”

“Where are you going? ” Ambrosio asked.

“Arequipa, ” Ludovico muttered. “The Coalition people are going to have a demonstration against the government there and it looks like there’s going to be trouble. With those mountaineers you never know, things start off as a demonstration and end up as a revolution. ”

He threw an undershirt against the suitcase and sighed, depressed. Ambrosio looked at Amalia and winked, but she looked away.

“You’re laughing, boy, because you’re sitting pretty, ” Ludovico said. “You’ve already been through it and you don’t even want to remember those of us who are still on the force. I’d like to see you in my skin, Ambrosio. ”

“Don’t take it like that, brother, ” Ambrosio said.

“They should call you on your day off, the plane leaves at five. ” He turned to look at Ambrosio and Amalia with anguish. “You don’t even know for how long or what’s going to happen there. ”

“Nothing’s going to happen and you’ll get to know Arequipa, ” Ambrosio said. “Think of it as a pleasure trip, Ludovico. Are you going with Hipó lito? ”

“Yes, ” Ludovico said, closing the suitcase. “Oh, man, how nice it used to be when we were working for Don Cayo, as long as I live I’ll be sorry I was transferred. ”

“But it’s your own fault. ” Ambrosio laughed. “Didn’t you use to be complaining you didn’t have time for anything? Didn’t you and Hipó lito ask to be transferred? ”

“Well, make yourselves at home, ” Ludovico said, and Amalia didn’t know where to look. “Keep the key. When you leave you can drop it off with Doñ a Carmen at the entrance. ”

He gave a sad wave from the door and left. Amalia felt the rage rising all over her body, and Ambrosio, who had stood up and was coming over, stopped short when he saw the expression on her face.

“He knew I was here, he wasn’t surprised to see me. ” Her eyes threatened him, her hands. “It was a lie that you were waiting for him, you borrowed the room in order to …”

“He wasn’t surprised because I told him you were my woman, ” Ambrosio said. “Can’t I come here with my woman when I feel like it? ”

“I’m not now, never was and never will be, ” Amalia shouted. “You fooled me about your friend, you borrowed the …”

“Ludovico’s like a brother to me, this is like home to me, ” Ambrosio said. “Don’t be silly, I can do whatever I want here. ”

“He must think I haven’t got any shame, he didn’t even shake hands or look at me. He must think that …”

“He probably didn’t shake hands because he knows I’m jealous, ” Ambrosio said. “He probably didn’t look at you so as not to get me mad. Don’t be silly, Amalia. ”

A waiter appeared with a glass of water and he had to stop speaking for a few seconds. He took a drink, coughed: the government wanted to let it be known that it was pleased with everyone in Cajamarca, most especially the gentlemen on the Reception Committee, for their efforts to make the visit an event, and he was able to make a decision and see a chain of sudden substitutions under the curtains: but all of that would call for expenses and it wouldn’t be logical, besides the loss of time, the concern that the President’s trip should call for them to spend some money too. The silence became accentuated and he could hear the listeners’ suspended breathing, catch the curiosity, the suspicion in their eyes, fixed on him: she and Hortensia, she and Maclovia, she and Carmincha, she and China. He coughed again, frowned slightly: so he had instructions from the Ministry to put a sum of money at the disposal of the Committee to lessen their expenses and the figure of Don Remigio Saldí var suddenly dominated the room, she and Hortensia: just a moment, Mr. Bermú dez. Skins that got all mixed up between themselves and among the sheets and curtains, dark hair that became tangled and disentangled and in his mouth he felt a mass of warm saliva as thick as semen. When the Committee had been set up, the Prefect had indicated that he would put in for some help for the expenses of the reception, and Don Remigio Saldí var made a majestic and haughty gesture, and at that time we rejected the offer categorically. Murmurs of approval, a provincial and challenging pride in their faces and he opened his mouth and squinted: but bringing people from the countryside was going to cost them money, Mr. Saldí var, it was fine for them to pay for the banquet, the receptions, but not the other expenses and he heard the sounds of offense, recriminatory movements, and Don Remigio Saldí var had opened his arms arrogantly: they wouldn’t accept a cent, that was all there was to it. They were going to honor the President out of their own pockets, they’d decided unanimously, there would be more than enough with the funds they’d collected, Cajamarca didn’t need any help to pay homage to Odrí a, that’s all. He stood up, nodding, and the silhouettes vanished as if made of smoke: he wouldn’t insist, he didn’t want to offend them, he thanked them in the name of the President for that noble display, that generosity. But he still couldn’t leave because the waiters had rushed into the room with snacks and drinks. He mingled with the people, had an orangeade, joked and frowned. So you can get to know the people from Cajamarca, Mr. Bermú dez, and Don Remigio Saldí var brought him over to a gray-haired man with an enormous nose: Dr. Lanusa, he had ordered fifteen thousand pennants with money from his own pocket, besides making a donation to the Committee funds the same as the others, Mr. Bermú dez. And don’t think he made that gesture just so the highway would happen to pass in front of his ranch, Deputy Azpilcueta laughed. They celebrated the remark, even Dr. Lanusa laughed, oh, those Cajamarcan tongues. There’s no denying that you people do things on a grand scale, he was heard to say himself. And you’d better keep your liver in good shape, Mr. Bermú dez, he spotted the twinkling eyes of Deputy Mendieta behind a glass of beer, you’ll see how they’ll take care of you. He looked at his watch, so late already? he was sorry but he had to go. Faces, hands, good-bye, glad to have met you. Senator Heredia and Deputy Mendieta accompanied him to the stairs, there a small, heavy-bearded dark man was waiting with respectful eyes. Engineer Lama, Don Cayo, and he thought a job, a recommendation, a business deal? a member of the Reception Committee and the leading agronomist in the district, Mr. Bermú dez. How do you do, what can I do for you. A nephew, he would have to pardon him for bringing it up at a time like this, his mother was half crazy and had insisted so much that. He calmed him down by smiling, took a notebook out of his pocket, what had the young man done? They’d sent him to the University of Trujillo with great sacrifice, sir, he must have got bad counseling there, must have fallen in with bad elements, he was never involved in politics before. Fine, Engineer, he’d take care of it personally, what was the young man’s name, was he being held in Trujillo or in Lima? He went down the steps and the lights on the Paseo Coló n had already gone on. Ambrosio and Ludovico were chatting and smoking by the door. They threw away their cigarettes when they saw him: to San Miguel.

“Take the first turn to the right, ” Santiago said, pointing. “That yellow house, the old one. That’s right, here. ”

He rang the bell, stuck in his head and saw Carlitos at the top of the stairs in his pajama bottoms with a towel over his shoulder: I’ll be right down, Zavalita. He went back to the car.

“If you’re in a hurry, leave me here, Sparky. We can take a taxi to Callao. La Cró nica pays for our transportation. ”

“I’ll drive you, ” Sparky said. “I suppose we’ll see each other again now, right? Teté wants to see you too. I suppose I can bring her, or would you be mad at Teté too? ”

“Of course not, ” Santiago said. “I’m not mad at anyone, not even at the folks. I’m going to go by and see them soon. I just want them to get used to the idea that I’m going to keep on living by myself. ”

“They’re never going to get used to it and you know that very well, ” Sparky said. “You’re making their life bitter. Don’t keep on with this silly scheme of yours, Superbrain. ”

But he stopped talking because Carlitos was there, looking at the car in a puzzled way, Sparky’s face. Santiago opened the door for him: get in, get in, I want to introduce you to my brother, he’s going to take us. Up front, Sparky said, there was plenty of room for the three of them. He started up, following the trolley tracks, and for a while no one spoke. Sparky offered them cigarettes and Carlitos was looking at us out of the corner of his eye, he thinks, and exploring the nickel-plated dashboard, the brand-new seat covers, Sparky’s elegance.

“You didn’t even notice that the car is new, ” Sparky said.

“That’s right, ” Santiago said. “Did the old man sell the Buick? ”

“No, this is mine. ” Sparky blew on his fingernails. “I’m buying it on time. I haven’t even had it a month. What are you going to do in Callao? ”

“Interview the Director of Customs, ” Santiago said. “Carlitos and I are writing a series on smuggling. ”

“Oh, that’s interesting, ” Sparky said; and after a moment: “Do you know that ever since you started working we’ve been getting La Cró nica delivered every day? But we never know what you write? Why don’t you sign your articles? That way you’d get to be known. ”

There were Carlitos’ mocking and startled eyes, Zavalita, there was the uncomfortable feeling you had. Sparky went through Barranco, Miraflores, turned down the Avenida Pardo and took the Coastal Highway. They were talking with long, uncomfortable pauses, only Santiago and Sparky, Carlitos was watching them out of the corner of his eye, with an intrigued and ironical expression.

“It must be very interesting being a newspaperman, ” Sparky said. “I could never be one, I can’t even write a letter. But you’re in your element, Santiago. ”

Periquito was waiting for them by the door of the custom house with his cameras on his shoulder and the newspaper’s van a little way off.

“I’ll come by and pick you up one of these days at the same time, ” Sparky said. “With Teté, O. K.? ”

“Fine, ” Santiago said. “Thanks for the ride, Sparky. ”

Sparky was indecisive for a moment, his mouth half open, but he didn’t say anything and limited himself to a wave. They watched the car go off through the puddles in the cobblestones.

“Is he really your brother? ” Carlitos was shaking his head in disbelief. “Your family must be stinking rich, right? ”

“According to Sparky they’re on the verge of bankruptcy, ” Santiago said.

“I’d like to be on the verge of a bankruptcy like that, ” Carlitos said.

“I’ve been waiting half an hour, you lazy bums, ” Periquito said. “Did you hear the news? A military cabinet, because of the trouble in Arequipa. The Arequipans got Bermú dez out. This is the end of Odrí a. ”

“Don’t be so happy, ” Carlitos said. “The end of Odrí a and the beginning of what? ”

THE FOLLOWING SUNDAY Ambrosio met her at two o’clock, they went to a matinee, had something to eat near the Plaza de Armas and took a long walk. It’s going to be today, Amalia thought, it’s going to happen today. He let her look sometimes and she realized that he too was thinking it’s going to be today. There’s a good restaurant on Francisco Pizarro, Ambrosio said when it got dark. It had both Peruvian and Chinese food; they ate and drank so much they could barely walk. There’s a dance hall near here, Ambrosio said, let’s look in. It was a circus tent set up behind the railroad. The orchestra was on a platform and they’d laid mats on the ground so that people could dance without stepping in the mud. Ambrosio kept going out and coming back with beer in paper cups. There were a lot of people, the couples were bouncing where they were because there wasn’t much room; sometimes a fight would start but it would never end because two big fellows would separate the men and carry them out bodily. I’m getting drunk, Amalia was thinking. With the growing heat she was feeling better, freer, and suddenly she herself pulled Ambrosio onto the dance floor. They mingled with the couples, embracing, and the music never ended. Ambrosio was holding her tightly, Ambrosio shoved away a drunk who had brushed against her, Ambrosio kissed her on the throat: it was as if it were all taking place very far away, Amalia was bursting with laughter. Then the floor began to spin and she hung onto Ambrosio to stop from falling: I don’t feel well. She heard him laugh, felt him dragging her, and suddenly the street. The cold on her face half woke her up. She was walking, holding his arm, she felt his hand on her waist, she was saying now I know why you had me drink. She was happy, she didn’t care, where were they going? the sidewalk seemed to be sinking, even if you don’t tell me I know where. She recognized Ludovico’s little room half in a dream. She was embracing Ambrosio, joining her body to Ambrosio’s, looking for Ambrosio’s mouth with her mouth, saying I hate you, Ambrosio, you didn’t behave right with me, and it was as if she were a different Amalia the one who was doing those things. She let herself be undressed, laid down on the bed, and was thinking what are you crying about, stupid girl. Then a pair of strong arms encircled her, a weight that crushed her, a suffocation that strangled her. She felt that she was neither laughing nor crying and saw Trinidad’s face passing by in the distance. Suddenly she was being shaken. She opened her eyes: the light in the little room was on, hurry up, Ambrosio was saying, buttoning up his shirt. What time was it? Four in the morning. Her head was heavy, her body ached, what would the mistress say. Ambrosio was handing her her blouse, her stockings, her shoes, and she got dressed in a rush, without looking into his eyes. The street was deserted, now the breeze made her feel bad. She leaned against Ambrosio and he embraced her. Your aunt wasn’t feeling well and you had to stay with her, she thought, or you didn’t feel well and your aunt wouldn’t let you leave. Ambrosio was stroking her head from time to time, but they weren’t speaking. The bus arrived when a weak light was breaking over the rooftops; they got out at the Plaza San Martí n and it was daytime, newsboys with papers under their arms were running under the archways. Ambrosio accompanied her to the streetcar stop. This time wouldn’t be like the other time, Ambrosio, would he behave right this time? You’re my woman, Ambrosio said, I love you. She stayed in his embrace until the streetcar came. She waved to him from the window and she kept on looking at him, watching him grow smaller as the streetcar left him behind.

The car went down the Paseo Coló n, around the Plaza Bolognesi, turned into Brasil. The traffic and the lights delayed him half an hour until Magdalena; then, when they left the avenue, they went rapidly through lonely and poorly lighted streets and in a few minutes were in San Miguel: more sleep, going to bed early tonight. When they saw the car the policemen on the corner saluted. He went into the house and the girl was setting the table. From the stairs he glanced at the living room, the dining room: they’d changed the flowers in the vases, the silverware and the glasses on the table were sparkling, everything was neat and clean. He took off his jacket, went into the bedroom without knocking. Hortensia was at the dressing table putting on makeup.

“Queta didn’t want to come when she found out that the guest was going to be Landa. ” Her face was smiling at him from the mirrors; he threw his jacket onto the bed, aiming at the dragon’s head: the jacket covered it. “The poor girl hears the name Landa and she begins to yawn. She has to spy on all kinds of old-timers for you, you ought to invite some good young blood for her once in a while. ”

“Have them give the chauffeurs something to eat, ” he said, loosening his tie. “I’m going to take a bath. Would you get me a glass of water? ”

He went into the bathroom, turned on the hot water, got undressed without closing the door. He watched the bathtub fill up, the room get thick with steam. He heard Hortensia giving orders, saw her come in with a glass of water. He took a pill.

“Do you want a drink? ” she asked from the door.

“After I bathe. Please lay out some clean clothes for me. ”

He sank into the tub and stretched out, only his head out of the water, absolutely motionless, until the water began to turn cold. He soaped himself, rinsed himself under the shower with cold water, combed his hair, and walked into the bedroom naked. On the dragon’s back there was a clean shirt, underwear, socks. He got dressed slowly, taking puffs on a cigarette that was burning in the ashtray. Then, from the study, he called Lozano, the Palace, Chaclacayo. When he went down to the living room, Queta had arrived. She was wearing a very low-cut black dress and had put her hair in a bun, which made her look older. The two women were sitting with whiskeys in their hands and had put some records on.