She began to dislike the ancient city. The volcano began its menacing upward sweep at the edge of the city, and rose so steeply and so high that its tip was hidden in the clouds. "I have been up there," said Michael. "I looked down into its gaping top and saw the earth's inside smoldering."

Michael said on Sunday: "I wish you would spend all your free days here, every week."

That evening he and Lillian, and other guests, were sitting in the patio when suddenly there appeared in the sky what seemed at first like a flying comet, which then burst high in the air into a shower of sparks and detonations.

Lillian thought: "It's the volcano!"

They ran to the outside windows. A crowd of young men, carefully dressed in dark suits and gleaming white shirts, stood talking and laughing. Fireworks illuminated their dark, smooth faces. The marimbas played like a concert of children's pianos, small light notes so gay that they seemed the laughter of the instrument.

The fireworks were built in the shape of tall trees, and designed to go off in tiers, branch by branch. From the tips of the gold and red branches hung planets, flowers, wheels gyrating and then igniting, all propelled into space bursting, splintering, falling as if the sun and the moon and the stars themselves had been pierced open and had spilled their jewels of lights, particles of delight.

Some of the flowers spilled their pollen of gold, the planets flew into space, discarding ashes, the skeletons of their bodies. But some of the chariot wheels, gyrating wildly, spurred by each explosion of their gold spokes, wheeled themselves into space and never returned in any form, whether gold showers or ashes.

When the sparkles fell like a rain of gold, the children rushed to place themselves under them, as if the bath of gold would transform their ragged clothes and lives into light.

Beside Lillian, Michael took no pleasure in the spectacle. She saw him watching the students with an expression which had the cold glitter of hunger, not emotion. Almost the cold glitter of the hunter taking aim before killing.

"This is a fiesta for men only, Lillian. The men here love each other openly. See, there, they are holding hands."

Lillian translated this into: He wants it to be thus, this is the way he wants it to be.

"They like to be alone, among men. They enjoy being without women." He looked at her this time with malice, as if to observe the effect of his words on her.

"I lived in Mexico as a child, Michael. The women are kept away from the street, from cafés, they are kept at home. But it does not mean what you believe..."

They watched the young men so neatly dressed, standing in the street with their faces turned toward the fireworks. Then they noticed that across the street from Michael's house one of the windows was brightly lit and a very young girl dressed in white stood behind the iron railing. Behind her the room was full of people, and the marimbas were playing.