Slowly, Raul got up and circled the house, to the garden side. Lucienne was talking to her gardener. He had been clipping hedges and they walked among them, stepping over little heaps, pointing, gesturing. Barefooted, wearing light blue, she laughed gayly at something he said. Her hair blazed against the dark hedge, beside the gardener, a wizened, half-naked man.
She came toward Raul. "Don't the hedge leaves smell wonderful?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.
"Like the woods," he said.
"Let's go together one of these days," she suggested. "Way up the volcano, the way we used to ... after the fire and smoke have gone."
"Will the fire and smoke ever go?" he said, letting his discouragement get the better of him.
"That's no way to talk." She kissed him. "Sit on the bench, there," she said, quietly. "Maybe you shouldn't be walking around. I'll change the bandage soon."
"We can skip that.... Let's leave it."
"Who'll change the bandage at Petaca?"
"Manuel."
"Not Angelina?"