"Of course. I'll give you one; I have extras."

"And could you lend me a book by Lautréamont too, please?"

"Yes, but that you absolutely have to return. He's one of my favorite poets."

"I promise," I said.

María went into the big house. I was left alone in the courtyard, and for a minute I couldn't believe that Mexico City was really out there. Then I heard voices in the Fonts' little house, and a light went on. I thought that it was Angélica and Pancho, and that in a little while Pancho would come out into the courtyard to find me, but nothing happened. When María returned with two copies of the magazine and the Chants de Maldoror, she too noticed that the lights were on in the little house, and for a few seconds she waited attentively. Suddenly, when I was least expecting it, she asked me whether I was still a virgin.

"No, of course not," I lied, for the second time that evening.

"And was it hard to lose your virginity?"

"A little," I said, after considering my response for a second.

I noticed that her voice had gotten husky again.

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No, of course not," I said.

"Who did you do it with, then? A prostitute?"

"No, with a girl from Sonora who I met last year," I said. "We were only together for three days."

"And you haven't done it with anyone else?"

I was tempted to tell her about my adventure with Brígida, but in the end I decided that it was better not to.

"No, nobody else," I said, and I felt so miserable I could have died.

I called María Font. I told her I wanted to see her. I begged her to come out. She said that she'd meet me at Café Quito. When she came in, around seven, several pairs of eyes followed her from the doorway all the way to the table where I was waiting.

She looked beautiful. She was wearing a Oaxacan blouse, very tight jeans, and leather sandals. Over her shoulder she was carrying a dark brown knapsack stamped with little cream-colored horses around the edges, full of books and papers.