“Escúchame. I am used as Rosaria was when she was young. That is what I said.” As Will took a moment to translate these words into English, she added in an undertone, in a whisper’s whisper, “By him. By Tío Enrique.”

There was a lag of several seconds between her utterance and his comprehension, and then Willard Terhune’s façade of worldliness crumbled, as false things do when put to the test. He had heard of such things, in the brothels, in conversations within the protective walls of Yale dormitories, but they occupied the same place in his mind as tales of gruesome murders, as newspaper reports about conditions in the slums or wars in distant countries. He could not fully grasp the abomination just described, though its victim stood before him, breathing into his face.

“That was the price for my quinces,” Elvira carried on, in a voice so subdued Will had to move closer to hear. “It happened that very night. The party was held in the cabildo Tío Enrique belongs to in Cárdenas. When it was over, he asked me to stay, because he said he had a special present for me, a dress prettier than the one Rosaria had made for me. He took me into a room in the back and told me to take off Rosaria’s dress, and then he went óut. I tell you, I was scared, I knew something was not right, but I did not know what until Tío Enrique returned, with no clothes on. He locked the door and told me not to make a sound and said he had had his eye on me since I was thirteen. And then he said to me, ‘But now you are fifteen, you are old enough to bleed, you are old enough to cut.’ I fought him, believe me, I did. Even then, I was tall and strong. But Tío is strong for a small man. He did, you know, pelote, for money when he was a young man. He knew how to hit, and he hit me, and then he took me like a wild beast, as I had you take me tonight, because I thought that if a man I loved could have me like that but with love, with sweetness, with tenderness, then perhaps … But it felt the same as with him. Lo siento, it did. Not because of you, O my Will. Because of him. For three years now, he has me whenever it comes upon him. He’s ruined me. So you see, he is not protective of me, as my madrina lied to you. He is jealous. So you see, if I made my asienta here, it would be impossible for me to keep my vows.”

Will did not say anything, because there was nothing to say.