Idolina added somberly, “When my stepfather and she are dead. When this house has gone up in flames. When you and I have gone off to travel other lands.”

The Indian woman was frightened to hear, on such resentful lips, the words she herself had once pronounced. As if to hold them back she put her hand over Idolina’s mouth. But Idolina pushed it away.

“That’s what the ashes said.”

There was so much hope for freedom in Idolina’s acceptance of the promise that the Indian woman turned her face away with a guilty blush.

“It was a game, niña.”

“It wasn’t a game!” Idolina contradicted vehemently. “You swore to me. . . .”

And then, as if suddenly crushed by doubt, she added, “But you also swore you’d let me see the party.”

“It’s for your good, little dove. Lie down. If someone comes they shouldn’t see you like this.

“Who on earth would come?” the girl asked in a bitter voice. “She . . .” (she wouldn’t refer to her mother any other way). “She only comes when she has nothing else to do. Because she has to. ‘How are you? Very well, it’s plain to see; I’m very glad,’ “ said Idolina, mimicking Isabel’s voice and gestures. Then, abruptly, as if the image she had summoned up had led her to an unbearable certainty, she cried out passionately, “I can’t wait any more. The ashes said. . . . But nothing ever happens. And I’m rotting away between these walls. Until when?”

“Santísima Virgen de la Caridad, please protect us!”

The nana crossed herself to conjure away the demon that had taken possession of the girl. Idolina was pounding at her temples with clenched fists. Her fit of frenzy left her gasping and drained.

“Give me my shawl,” she ordered.

The tone admitted of no reply. As the Indian woman obeyed she went on warning the reckless girl.

“It’s our secret, niña. If they see you, if they find out you can walk, the wrath of God will descend upon our heads. On mine first, for having covered up the deception.”

But Idolina wasn’t listening. Devoured by restlessness she urged the nana, “Softer, softer; now the guests are here.”

In a final attempt to dissuade her, the woman said, “The tiles in the gallery are very cold.”

Idolina turned to look at her with a flash of anger. “They put pine needles down.”

When she went past the lamp, Idolina blew it out. They would have been in total darkness if not for the brazier’s reddish halo. Stealthily, Idolina pushed the door ajar.