The plants which overflowed into the dance hall and brushed the shoulders, uninvited guests from the jungle, the sharp stinging scent of tequila, the milk of cactus, the cries of the street like the cries of animals in the forest, bird, monkey, the burning eyes of the urchins watching through the leaves almost as phosphorescent as the eyes of wildcats; the water of the sewers running through the trench hissing like a fountain, the taxis throwing their headlights upon the dancers, beacons of a tumultuous sea of the senses, the perspiration on the shirt backs, the touch of toes more intimate than the touch of hands, the round tables seeming to turn like ouija boards of censurable messages, every message a caress, all this orchestration of the effulgence of the tropics served to measure by contrast these moments of existence which did not bloom completely, moments lived dimly, conjunctions and fusions which did not take place.

Larry and she had touched at one point, caught a glimpse of their undisguised self, but had not fused completely. Poor receptivity, poor connections, and at times no contact at all. Lillian knew now that it was an illusion that one lived in full possession of one's body. It could slip away from one. She could see Fred achieving this by impermeability to the sensuality of the place and people.

"Put your sandals on!" repeated Doctor Hernandez, and Lillian translated it: he wanted to protect her from promiscuity. That had been his role. She must defy him from causing more short circuits, more disconnections. And she must defy Fred, who, as in those dreams in which the identity is not clear, became all the ones who had not answered her love and particularly the first one, Gerard. When Fred danced with her, clumsily, soberly, she looked down at his boots as a sign of deliberate insulation, and she pushed him away and said: "Your shoes hurt me."

The time was past when her body could be ravished from her by visitations from the world of guilt. Such pleasurable sensations as a kiss on the inside of her arm, in the nook within the elbow, given by a stranger at a dance had been enough at one time to cause sudden departures. But no one could break now her feeling of oneness with Golconda. She had betrayed Larry with all the voluptuous textures, pungent smells, and with pleasure.

The girls had noticed that Lillian would not dance with Fred, and they came to sit at his side. One of them wore a black satin dress with an edge of white lace which seemed like a petticoat making an indiscreet appearance. The other a shawl which was slipped off her shoulders constantly as by an invisible hand. One had the expression of a schoolgirl intent upon her work. Her hair was still damp from the beach, and hung straight down like a Tahitian's. The other smiled and rested a fine-boned, delicate, small hand upon Fred's knees. Then she leaned over and, still smiling, whispered in his ear a request which made the blood rush to Fred's face, and his body stiffen with panic. The girl on his left, her small earrings trembling, and her medal of the Virgin engraved in blue lacquer which she held between her fingers like a cigarette, added: "The two of us? More exciting?"