Isabel witnessed these sessions with a surprise that was somewhat disturbing. She had always wanted, or had always believed she wanted, for her daughter to be cured. And now that the cure was becoming a reality, it was turning out to be difficult for her to adapt to the new situation. Idolina, healthy: the two words that had appeared contradictory for so many years were now joining together to form a certainty that Isabel did not want to name.

“What’s wrong?” Leonardo asked her. “You don’t look very glad about it to me.”

Isabel blushed, as if she had been caught in a guilty moment. Her mouth filled up with a tumult of rationales. It’s just that Idolina’s improvement is so sudden, she would say, the effort Julia demands from her is so inconsiderate. . . all this apparent progress could suddenly end in a shattering relapse.

“Relapse into what?” Cifuentes replied. “It’s all pure sham. What’s happening is that this time my crafty stepdaughter has met her match.”

So it appeared. When Julia was there, Idolina didn’t dare allow herself an explosion of temper, a fit of weeping, a paroxysm of restiveness. She humbly sought out the foreign woman’s eyes, and as long as her visits lasted she was docile in following Julia’s suggestions and even tried to anticipate them.

Idolina’s soul, beleaguered by anguish and helplessness, gave in—with no more than a confused and ineffectual resistance—to La Alazana’s influence. And how effusively friendship welled up in that arid breast! No demonstration of affection seemed sufficient, any demand was easy to fulfill and there was no declaration of loyalty that the girl was not quick to swear. But in the same way, how painful it was to discover that her new friend had other affections, other interests, other obligations, even! Wide-eyed, Idolina followed the play of Julia’s features as she was talking about herself, her past, her plans. With bitterness, she confirmed the insignificant role she played in the other woman’s life. At those moments she feigned indifference but was desperately anxious to arouse Julia’s compassion and be consoled.

“Don’t play games with me,” she once pleaded with Julia.

No, La Alazana wasn’t playing games. She knew she could use the teenager’s submission as a weapon against the older members of the family. Stirring up the girl’s animosity toward her family at some moments, her thirst for affection at others, Julia was securing a control over her that neither Isabel nor the nana dared dispute.