"With five thousand they can get some new equipment perhaps!" Gabriel's outburst delighted Raul. "I should look after the hospital better than I do. Father Gamio can't do it all himself. I'm off to Guadalajara later today, Angelina and I. She'll remain there. I'll be bringing Vicente back when I return. He wants to ride and hunt ... there's another fiesta. You can expect us in three or four days." "If you see Roberto, tell him how grateful I am." "I'll tell him. Is there anything you need?" "Nothing, thank you, Don Raul. Maybe some newspapers?" "I'll bring back papers and magazines. I'll leave my check for the hospital in the _tienda_. Will you have someone pick it up off my desk? Write an accompanying letter, a gracious one, for Petaca." "I'll be glad to." "Goodbye, Gabriel." He smiled affectionately. "Get well." "I'll pray for you and Angelina," said Gabriel. "Adiós." "Que le vaya bien." Shortly after lunch, Raul and Angelina drove toward Colima, the horses pulling well. Gray clouds darkened the landscape; across the lagoon, between its shore line and the volcano, a sandstorm blew. The great peak seemed old, harmless, a dusty, withered thing. Their carriage clattered over a _tzontli_ bridge; here, on one side, a Medina had erected a plaque in 1761, mortaring it deep inside a niche where it had weathered the years with scarcely a sign of wear. "Hasta la eternidad," it began, and the phrase ran through Raul's mind as the horses trotted, clopping over firm ground. Angelina leaned against the faded plush on her side, lost in herself, her folded parasol hard against her side, fingers motionless in the handle strap sewn with gold threads. Until eternity, he thought, gazing at her uneasily, recalling those lines from their marriage ceremony. Sugar-cane fields lay on both sides. The road twisted and grew rough, and the driver slowed his horses. A tall knob of a man, he sang in a deep bass, improvising expertly. Raul hoped the train would be more or less on time because he hated arriving in Guadalajara late, when the air was chill and cabmen were sleepy and crusty. He anticipated a satisfactory adjustment of the mining business. He would invite Uncle Roberto to dinner: Angelina, María ... the four of them enjoying the lobster at the Copa de Leche. It would be fun returning to Petaca with Vicente; the boy was putting on weight, growing too. Nowadays his talk was all about horses: "Tell me about Esmeralda, has she foaled? Is Canelito in pasture? How's Chico? I've read that the heaviest work horses are in France, is that true, Papa?"