Naturally. And he had done it for that reason. César had intervened once before, as well. When he first learned of the discovery of the idols in the cave of Tzajal-hemel. Not that he believed in their miraculous origin. Stones like that could be found anywhere; he had seen some very similar ones on his father’s ranch near Ocosingo. But the real and startling fact was the people’s devotion, the great hope that awoke within them at the mere sight of the images, the ferocity with which they were prepared to defend their worship. César thought it would enhance Ulloa’s reputation with the Tzotziles if he were to demonstrate his support for those beliefs. He hinted this to Ulloa quite directly. But Fernando never agreed to sanction with his presence or his words a rite he considered nothing but a crude superstition.

The Indians didn’t understand such insensitivity from one who showed them so much sympathy in other respects. They didn’t dare ask. But something inside them closed up when this man, Ulloa, asked for their trust or spoke to them of justice and deliverance.

César realized where the failing lay and, convinced that Fernando would never condescend to make amends, he did what he thought was best: he stole Julia’s shawl and gave it to Catalina so she could wrap her idols in it. To Pedro González Winiktón, who functioned as the interpreter, he gave lengthy explanations of the garment’s meaning and of who the woman was that it had belonged to. La Alazana, too, had the supernatural power to make cripples walk again. She respected the Chamula ilol and was sending her a present. Why hadn’t her husband brought it? César made a vague gesture with his hand. It’s a secret. You must never mention the shawl in front of him.

The Indians had nodded in acquiescence. And when they thought of La Alazana, they felt in some vague way that Fernando Ulloa was not an outsider and that the silence with which he observed the ceremonies in the cave was one of complicity and consent. From then on they were less disinclined to entrust him with their things. Those who had kept their papers—titles, maps —hidden until then, dug them up and gave them to him. They pulled up the undergrowth that concealed the markers which indicated the boundary between one property and another; they pointed out the former beds of the rivers. The engineer did his work quickly and precisely. And when he congratulated himself on his good luck and speculated on the reasons for the Indians* obedience, César couldn’t help smiling. And he smiled to himself, too, when the echo of Julia’s voice bemoaning the disappearance of the shawl, making accusations, reached his room in Ciudad Real.