Raul learned every inch of Colima's time-gnawed station before the train ran again: the scaled walls, the stink of urine, the fruit peels on the floor, peasants sleeping among cockroaches.... Vicente sometimes waited with him, disgusted, a boy in school clothes. Raul was usually hatless, in tight gray trousers and a snow-white pocketed jacket-shirt. Vicente chewed sugar cane. "It's going to be bad in Guadalajara," he said. "It may be bad here." "I don't like the Colegio Francés." "But you can't stay at Petaca, as it is." They spoke angrily: "Mama's getting sicker." "She'll be better in Guadalajara." "But she needs you!" "No, she doesn't need me. You can help." "But I don't want to go," Vicente exclaimed. "You're going anyway, to help Mama." "You help Mama.... You go!" Buzzards perched on the galvanized iron roof, and Vicente threw rotten oranges at them. When the telegraph operator came out of his room, he said that the train might come tomorrow. "No use waiting any longer. There's no chance today." Raul gave him cigars. "Vicente--let's go back to your school. I'll come alone tomorrow." Angelina had stored her luggage at the hotel, ready for departure, since a train could come at any hour. When it finally arrived, late at night, Raul was on hand. He took both her hands in his, loving her for all she had been to him. "A good trip, Angelina," he said, as train smoke blew about them. "Good luck, Raul," she said in her lovely voice, her fingers stealing away from him, to the brooch on her blouse. "You'll be safe," he said. "Watch out for yourself at Petaca." "You too, in Guadalajara. Look after Vicente. The Colegio will be good for him." "Yes." She wanted to kiss him but the world inside her talked of many things; she wanted to mention Caterina, wishing she could purge herself of anguish; she wanted to speak of Fernando; she felt she could not breathe. Raul stood out plainly enough--his white shirt flapping--yet he was many Rauls. She took Vicente's hand. "Goodbye, Papa." "Goodbye, son." 18 Sofía, Lucienne's maid, brought Raul a letter, arriving early at Petaca, her face, hair and hands wet with mist. She gave it to him in the living room. "Dearest Raul," the letter began, "We are all right here at Palma Sola. Don't worry about us. I had no luck in Guanajuato. The manager is honest but afraid. I will tell you more about it when we meet. "I have heard that things have been bad with you at Petaca and I am sorry, darling. Sorry for you, Angelina, and all concerned. I know how much the hacienda means to you. Everything done to Petaca is something done to you. "The Kolbs are here with me, as you know, and none of my servants has deserted me. Payno and Otello say we won't have any trouble. I hope they're right.