The reasoning was indisputable and the Bishop had to accept it. With that acceptance, the conversation reached a more cordial conclusion than could have been foreseen at its beginning. Leonardo left the Palacio Episcopal in good spirits. This time, he reflected, he would keep his promise. It made no sense to start ringing the bells before the fruit had ripened. Step by step, the same story that had just taken place would repeat itself. And only one thing would be accomplished: the Indians would become even bolder and no one would be able to stop them when they demanded that the haciendas be dismembered for the benefit of their communities. On the other hand, if the situation were handled sensibly. . . .

When the order to leave for San Juan reached him, Manuel Mandujano had grown tired of parading his triumph through the sacristies and the gatherings of the devout. It was the right moment: he was beginning to fear that his laurels would wither in inaction, and he had noticed that interest in the momentary danger that had confronted the city was beginning to wane. Now people were talking with the same passion as before about lawsuits over inheritances, newborn children found in some gutter, the tale of the brother and sister who were living together in sin and went all the way to Rome to see if the Holy Father. . . .

Don Alfonso Cañaveral recommended tact and a conciliatory spirit to Padre Manuel. While the departing priest’s horse was stamping with impatience to leave in the stable, Don Alfonso recalled the parable of the prodigal son, applying it to Tzajal-hemel.

Manuel said yes, yes to everything. He was determined that his absence from Ciudad Real would be brief and that his return would again be spectacular. For only a few days’ stay in Chamula it wasn’t necessary to trouble Benita. So he left her ensconced in a spacious house, with galleries that quickly filled up with flowerpots and birdcages so his sister would be distracted and wouldn’t sigh too much after her absent brother.

“. . . and do not condemn them because they are now idol-worshipers. It’s their ignorance, their abandonment. Be a comfort to them, let them feel, through your ministry, that our Church gathers them in and protects them.”

Mandujano nodded, no longer listening. His fingers were tormenting the whip he was going to lash his mount with. The whip that he would brandish in the cave at Tzajal-hemel, but that he could not bring hissing down because Catalina placed herself between him and the idols and seized it from him.