“Anyone can sound good from the pulpit. The day one of them lets out a yell, the entire town of Ciudad Real will rush out to destroy the Chamulas.”

“Let’s be careful they’re not the ones who end up letting out the first yell.”

“They’re useful, but you can’t give them too much leeway.”

“We’re the ones in control of this situation.”

“And things aren’t turning out badly. Reinforcements have arrived from Comitán and even from Guatemala.”

“They smelled a fight.”

“They know we’re their buffer zone. If the Indians finish us off, they’ll finish them off next.”

“In any case, we should thank them.” .

The clock on the Cabildo rang eleven o’clock. The men stood up and prepared to go.

“So, what do we do, mi general?”

Leonardo smiled.

“We wait.”

It was easy for them to wait, the rich men whose pantries were well stocked with provisions. But for those who were obliged to play a prominent role but did not have the means to do so, the matter was a bit more complicated.

Elderly serving-women left the giant, half-ruined houses very early, carrying some object under their rebozos to sell on the cheap. But those who could afford to purchase it didn’t consider this to be the right moment, and after making a fruitless round of all the doorways and grocery stores, the servants returned to their points of departure, still carrying the objects, along with a few vegetables bought on credit in their shopping baskets.

The lady of the house sat despairing among the remnants of a former splendor that would see her die of hunger; the daughters swore to themselves that they would escape from these daily humiliations—which were worse now because of the virtual state of siege Ciudad Real was in—but they did not think of going to work, since they were unqualified for any job. They thought of making an advantageous marriage. If that weren’t possible (and how many withered maidenhoods there were behind the wrought iron balconies) they would accept the flirtation, which was always available, of a sales agent, a bullfighter with a traveling fair, a roadway inspector.

The men, meanwhile, were out of the house all day, especially now that they had a very good pretext for not staying in to listen to the women’s chronic laments. With their weapons on their shoulders they patrolled the streets, stopping to chat in doorways and cantinas, looking for the chance to strike up a conversation with the people they saw and to show themselves to be on their side. Between one such occasion and another, they had ample opportunity to make the usual joking displays of mutual cowardice.

Then there was the lowest class, so poor there was nothing to conceal their poverty and nothing to alleviate it, and they bore the brunt of the troubled situation.