Idolina began to wonder, with more anticipation than fear, whether this woman who looked so insignificant, so humble, might not be a canán, possessor of a fire nahual, endowed with the power to transform herself into fire and dictate her commands to the flames. All at once she asked, “What do the ashes say?”

Teresa turned, startled. Whether it was because Idolina’s words had taken her by surprise and she didn’t know what to answer or because the nature of the revelation being demanded was so serious it had to be built up to gradually, the fact is that the nana delayed her answer.

Idolina’s interest grew more pressing. From then on she did nothing but implore the Indian woman, whose silence had strengthened Idolina’s suspicions as to Teresa’s true nature and made her suppose, as well, that while stirring the ashes Teresa could see into the future. She had seen something, that much was certain. But what?

After several weeks of skirmishes, and not until the intimacy between them had been reestablished, no longer weakened by the sick girl’s distractions or the maid’s evasions, Teresa finally reached the point of sharing her discovery. “The ashes say you’ll get well.”

Idolina gave her a look of scandalized reproach. The prophecy did not agree with her intentions and Teresa should have known that very well. She was going to contradict it, negate it, but the nana anticipated her, intercepting her anger: “The ashes say this house will burn. They say the husband and wife will die.”

Idolina turned anxiously toward the mouth that had spoken. She didn’t want to find out when or how it would happen; it was enough to be sure it would happen.

“Is that a promise?”

The Indian woman answered unhesitatingly, “Yes.”

Idolina and her nana did not speak of this again, though neither one of them stopped thinking about it. Idolina was silent out of fear that the certainty of the predictions would melt away at the slightest indiscretion. And Teresa kept quiet as if she were awestricken by the greatness of what had manifested itself through her. Though they corresponded to her desires, those omens were beyond her. In that disjunction took root her belief that such ideas could not have sprung up inside her of their own accord, but must have been received by supernatural means.

On one of her rare visits to the sick girl Isabel saw that something in her had changed. An undefinable force was enlivening her, a happiness that, without wasting itself in ostentatious gestures or mincing effusions, was there, present and certain. Isabel disliked this atmosphere, in which a tension was threatening to erupt, in which an impending event could be felt. Her inquiries brought no clear explanation, so she decided to attribute it to an improvement in the state of her daughter’s health.