"I'll come," said Gabriel, putting on his glasses. Raul said, going up the steps: "I'll look after you, Gabriel. Perhaps I can hold my land ... I'll fight for the property ... I'll do what I can for you." He repeated his words to himself. They seemed impossibly clumsy; the whole situation was impossible. Velasco had a letter for Raul. Roberto had gotten word through from Guadalajara. Before Raul opened it and read it, he told Velasco what he had decided, and the doctor nodded approval before returning to the injured, digging with a finger at his goatee. Yes, the letter from Guadalajara, creased, greasy, lacking a stamp. Who brought it? How did it get here? News from Roberto. He found brandy in the living room and sat down to read but smoke, blowing in from the dining room, sent him to the patio and the fountain. He took the brandy, and sat on the edge of the fountain, smoothed out the letter, hesitant, wanting to reconsider his decision, wanting to pause. That was it. Pause. Hold back. Draw a clean breath. People kept crossing and recrossing the patio. They stopped before him and questioned him, oblivious of the letter fluttering in his hands. As long as he sat and talked, they felt strengthened. How can I abandon them, all of them, my friends, my servants ... they'll be lost without me! Lost? They want land, houses of their own, freedom. The smell of his own burning house made him cough. He turned to the letter again and read: "Dear Raul, "I hear that things have been going badly at your hacienda, at most of the haciendas in the Colima area. I am very sorry. When I left you, after the equestrian party, I had hoped for better things. Here we have serious problems, too. But our most serious problem is Angelina. You must come here at once. Angelina is ill, is completely deranged. I am sorry to be so blunt, Raul, but what can I do? I must tell you the truth, however painful to me and you. "María is ill. That is why Angelina stayed with us awhile, though now she is at Holy Cross Hospital. "You have to know, too, that Guadalajara has suffered. The San Francisco church has been burned. The bishop's residence has been sacked. There's garbage on the street corners, stacked high. There's no water in our homes, there's no sewage disposal. "Angelina has felt all of this tragedy. Unfortunately, she saw men hanging from lampposts in the plaza. "I have taken her to several doctors. They all say she is unbalanced. She's gentle and kind. But she sees a dog, a dog that doesn't exist. It's her illness. She's trapped in fear. I hesitate to tell you this, but she doesn't care to eat. "Vicente is doing all right; he doesn't know the truth yet. He's with us. His school has closed. He doesn't get about much. It's too dangerous. "Come when you can, Raul. She asks for you. This has been my first chance to get a letter to you. I hope you understand I have tried to communicate, in various ways. Yours, Roberto."