Catalina did not even try to disguise her satisfaction. She had always been responsible for her brother and she had always given him the care he needed. From the time she was a little girl, before they were orphaned, Catalina was Lorenzo’s protector, his support. He was not a burden to her. But her position as a childless woman was so precarious that she did not dare aggravate her husband with further demands. Therefore when Pedro was named a judge and it was necessary to go and live in San Juan Chamula, Catalina had not wanted even to suggest the possibility that her brother might accompany them. But she could not leave him without remorse. Lorenzo, far from her, Lorenzo left to his own devices, to the neighbors’ good will. The invisible guardians condemn such acts.

If Lorenzo were to marry. . . . The failure of his first marriage annoyed the ilol all the more for the fact that from the beginning she had to consider it inevitable. The bride left her family’s house honorably, pushed out by a paternal greed that took nothing into consideration except the value of the dowry. But if the girl initially obeyed her parents’ demands, later her insistence upon a separation was inflexible. Neither pleas nor threats had any effect in the face of the reasons she cited. The judges supported her demand and she, seeing herself free, escaped. She went to Jobel first. Later it was learned that she had ended up as far away as Mexico. Lorenzo was alone once more, seeking the company of his sister, who did not want to risk her prestige and Pedro’s, too, on another false maneuver. Catalina preferred to wait. But she was only passive in appearance. Ceaselessly she invoked her dark allies, the powers that populate the air, those that rule the night, those that preside over events. She never stopped making them offerings, promising sacrifices so her petition would be attended to. And when Marcela presented herself, defenseless and as if pursued, on the steps of the market of La Merced, when she was so unthinkingly punished by her mother, a dark impulse prompted Catalina to defend her. Afterward, in dreams, she realized that this was the answer to her prayers and that her wait had reached its end. The rest was easy. Marcela’s relatives were not an obstacle. The vanity of the martoma’s nature was all too well known, his shiftless character, his total servitude to alcohol. As for Felipa, custom did not authorize her to have her own voice. And even if she had, she would never have spoken up effectively on her daughter’s behalf, she would never have succeeded in saving her. She liked to moan and lament. She liked to suffer.