II
22
PARTISAN REVIEW
wered, "Gonzales Junction
I
Sure I remember it." Then she
put her sleepy eyes up to the window glass, misty with the
breath of night, and was silent with her meagre thoughts.
From there, in days long past, they had gone forth toward
the secrets of a new life full of promises o
~bundance.
Now
they were coming back with their lives in a b.rbken frame of
··misery. Nevertheless, at heart, she had an obstinate hope in
. hom'e, in her count-ry.
·
Before their eyes now in the dawn, passed
the
green of un–
ending plains bordered by the monotonous grey of the abrupt
sierras.
Eve~y
.station, like an anthill, swarmed with people.
Farther ..on, above the high peaks, yellow streaks announced the
return of the sun. The train kept up its crazy race down the
parallel highway. The rails disappeared rapidly beneath the
wheels only to appear anew in front-a prolongation without
end!
The repatriated ones were tireless. Sleepless eyes were
kodaks anxious to catch marvellous visions of their
patria.
When their ears heard the voice of the conductor announcing
the end of the day's run they thought they had passed through
the new beauties of a pleasant dream.
Luminous dots stood out in the dark curve of the sky. The
transparent evening permitted one to see clearly the high bell·
towers whose slenderness penetrated the clean blue twilight.
The train stopped slowly. From the platform strange
voices came up to them-but only Juan alone did not know what
to do in the tangle of the night. He watched the other passen.
gers get out, received with open arms by those who awaited
them, while in his own heart, cold as a tomb, their smiles turned
into gestures of irony.
Now three months have gone by since his return to the
patria.
New groups of repatriates have been added to those al·
ready brought in. At home, the "old woman" waits with un–
certainty the expected news. The papers cry daily : AID
THOSE WHO HAVE COME BACK TO MEXICO! And
this slogan helps sustain their illusions. But when Juan again
gives utterance to the dismal weight of their poverty and help–
nessness, a deep silence falls upon them like a mortal anguish.
Into the sad hut from the city street comes the noise of the
passing hours. The youngsters come in, too, but no shouts of
joy come with them as they drop into their parents' hands the
shameful crumbs of beggary. Suddenly in Juan's eyes a bloody
