Raul replaced his pipe in his pocket and forced himself to reply: "I haven't decided how to act."
"You'd give our land away!"
"No, Father. I won't give up Petaca."
Fernando forced a quaking hand from under the sheet and wedged a pillow behind his back. Except for a general diffusion of yellowish light, he could see nothing.
"I'm almost blind," he mumbled. "When is that optical fool coming from Colima to fit my glasses? Blind ... you know what it is to be going blind? Give me a drink."
As the old man drank, he thought of Pedro; he trembled; his fear of death returned, and he did not want Raul dead.
"Don't go, Raul. Sit down, wait."
Raul held the empty glass and remained standing.
"Did General Matanzas speak to you ... of a new president?" he asked, with difficulty. He had difficulty in swallowing.
"No. He was drunk."