"I'm going about the job of changing things as slowly as possible. The lagoon project is coming along. I've had the dam repaired in Sector 17. Petaca is being improved. Our people have a right to a better way...." He thought he could not go on defending himself, repressing his feelings. "You say we must eat. God knows we've never gone hungry, we Medinas!" "Listen," Fernando said. "I've disposed of my mining shares in Pachuca Incorporated. The money is banked in my name now." Raul had counted on the dividends for further improvements. He had counted on them as a financial buffer as well. His lips went white. "Did you hear me?" "I heard you." "You talk of improvements. I'll cut your income. I can control Petaca." Fernando's sheet billowed and sank back. "You can't!" Raul exclaimed. "Raul--you can't better Petaca on one hand and undermine it on the other. Your radical ideas will ruin us." "So we must hold our own by destroying others." "It's a system like any other." "That's no excuse." "What will you do? Divide our land? The Indians owned it once. Will you give it back?" His voice crackled. "That can be answered later," Raul said. "When? Tomorrow? Next month? How long will you wait?" Raul replaced his pipe in his pocket and forced himself to reply: "I haven't decided how to act." "You'd give our land away!" "No, Father. I won't give up Petaca." Fernando forced a quaking hand from under the sheet and wedged a pillow behind his back. Except for a general diffusion of yellowish light, he could see nothing. "I'm almost blind," he mumbled. "When is that optical fool coming from Colima to fit my glasses? Blind ... you know what it is to be going blind? Give me a drink." As the old man drank, he thought of Pedro; he trembled; his fear of death returned, and he did not want Raul dead. "Don't go, Raul. Sit down, wait." Raul held the empty glass and remained standing. "Did General Matanzas speak to you ... of a new president?" he asked, with difficulty. He had difficulty in swallowing. "No. He was drunk." "Who is to take over Mexico ... does anyone say?" "Nobody knows." "What utter fools," he growled. "A ship without a helmsman.... And here at Petaca I must fight you." Then he said, sadly: "This is a time of rumors about revolt, about partition of land.... I don't like a time of rumors." He cleared his throat. For the first time during their conversation, Raul considered his father carefully; he saw that he had lost weight; the gnarled face had shrunken; both hands trembled now. No one had troubled to wash his hands. No one had combed his hair.