"I want to see the field of the two palms, where the melons grow," said Juan. "Captain del Valle is in the pueblo, but I believe with you that he is waiting his day."
"Then you must not go out of the mission bounds, Don Juan."
"The mission is only a few miles square, Miss Tula; just a little place for a man who has roamed a continent."
"Your heart is eager to be away, Don Juan. Home is dearer than friends in a distant place."
Juan turned his head to see if Doña Magdalena had gone into her kitchen. She was standing where he had left her, watchful duenna that she was, for all her bantering.
"I will pass on," he said, turning his hat in his hands.
"Until the next meeting, Don Juan," she returned, gravely courteous as if that time stood far away.
"They say the rains will come in six weeks," said Juan, as if a messenger had come with the news that morning, and politeness constrained him to repeat it. But he did not advance a foot upon his way.
"We must close the door and light candles in the daytime, then," Tula sighed. "I would keep these bright days."
"There is no thunder here, I have been told."
"That will be a blessing to a coward such as I. When thunder crashes, I shrivel like a snail."
