“You don’t know what a parish priest is to an Indian!” Don Alfonso enthused. “A representative of God. Who knows? Perhaps even an incarnation of God. And this after so many years of abandonment, of neglect by us! It is an admirable thing.”

“Have you thought about the fact that I do not know the language, Monseñor?”

“You won’t have any difficulties. There is a sacristan in the parish who speaks Castilla well. He can serve you as an interpreter and help you learn Tzotzil.”

Manuel understood that to any objection he might make Don Alfonso would have a response that would strip it of all validity and weight. For powerful reasons (and which was the most powerful: the pressure of the civil authorities? the convenience of keeping an eye on an area where the Government wanted to make some changes? or simply envy of a more daring and brilliant rival?) Don Alfonso had decided to appoint Manuel parish priest of San Juan Chamula and no argument would dissuade him.

He could have used his authority as bishop, the young man thought, he could have given me an order. But he is afraid of my rebelliousness, and so he piles up a stack of sophistries to convince me of the necessity of my appointment there. An apostolate among the Indians. How absurd! He himself doesn’t believe what he’s saying; he’s nothing but a poor old coward and meddler. Perhaps in his own way he thinks highly of me and defends me. I should still be grateful to him for taking the trouble to lie.

“I will leave when you tell me to, Monseñor.”

But deep inside himself, Manuel still had not accepted it and was planning to appeal the appointment as soon as a decorous period of time had elapsed and experience had provided him with reasons. No, his stay in Chamula would by no means have to be permanent.

“I’m glad to see you so willing, Manuel. I expected no less from you. Before you go I’ll give you my instructions in writing. Now you must make preparations for the journey as quickly as possible. We will take care of outfitting you: you must make sure you are well equipped with clothing and provisions; all expenses will be charged to me, of course. It will also be indispensable to have someone along to help you. I would let you have Doña Cristina, my housekeeper. She is a magnificent woman, very serious, very conscientious, and, at her age, safe from any wicked thoughts or rumors. But she is so much at home with me that it pains my conscience to send her away from the Bishopric.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Monseñor. My sister Benita will undoubtedly agree to go with me.”

“If that’s the case then everything is settled. May God go with you, mi hijo.”