The old man was raving at Chavela, who seemed frozen to one spot, a dishtowel over her arm.
"We must wipe out such crooks as Enriquez and Ricardo Magon! What messes they made in Chihuahua and Coahuila! There's more than meets the eye in their actions."
He squirmed under his bedclothes, the sheet sliding over his head so that only one eye stared out.
"Listen to me: under Porfirio Díaz we have known prosperity ... our centennial celebration told the world ... there must be no political tricks."
When Angelina appeared, Chavela nodded and went out, shaking her head.
"I'm here," said Angelina. "Chavela had to go."
"Angelina, come sit by me. Fix my bed.... We must find another Díaz. We can, you know." He talked a while longer, as she arranged his bed.
She sat beside him, her hands limp in her lap. She remembered a dream she had had during the night. Caterina had been frisking in the patio with Mona. Mona had just been washed and combed and her gray-gold hair stood up beautifully. Caterina wore a scarlet dress. She tossed Mona a ball, but as Mona ran toward her she became a dog of glass bones and glass hair.
Angelina trembled. She whispered to Fernando:
"It was a glass dog ... Mona's a glass dog."