ket； held on this site for two hundred years past every day from sunrise until dusk。
Conchita's chaperon got out of the carriage at the foot of the steps； turned to ask： 〃What kind shall I get？〃
The girl descended right after her。 〃I'm ing； too。 I want to pick them myself。〃
Marta started to protest that it wasn't necessary； she would do it for her； but Conchita had already taken the lead； was moving slowly up the main aisle of display； looking about her； assailed from either side by an advancing barrage of shrill； wheedling； poetic； and personally flattering cries that kept pace with her； to die out again forlornly behind her as she passed out of reach into the next vendor's jurisdiction。 Hands reached for her； tugged importunately at her clothing。 Marta slapped them down again。
〃Here； nina； roses crying for you！〃
〃Look； chiquita； carnations begging to be bought。 Ten centavitos。 Five。 Any price you say。 Only take them； take them！〃 It was late and the market was about to disband。
Marta halted。 〃Here are some。 Will these do； nina？〃
Conchita glanced around； but without halting her ascent。 〃No； up here at the top。 I always buy from this one at the end。〃
The stall she indicated； as a matter of fact； had a less sizable assortment to offer than many of those they had just passed。 The vendor was an old woman with a face as finely lined as though mosquito netting had been drawn over it。
〃Some of these。〃 Conchita picked up a single white rose and held it to her face outside the veil； causing a small indentation to appear with indrawn breath。
〃Si； little； angel； si！〃 the vendor jabbered； bustling to collect them。 〃White roses； as beautiful； as young； as you are yourself。〃
〃And gardenias；〃 Conchita instructed。
Marta held out her arms for the unbound accumulation。 〃I'll carry them； they may tear your clothes。〃 She handed the old woman a coin； turned to pick her way down the slippery steps。
The vendor； however； was not yet satisfied。 〃Look； a little cluster of white violets to go with them。 The last one left。〃 She laid one finger craftily alongside her nose for a moment； glanced after the retreating chaperon。 〃I've been saving them for you all day。 Free！ I give them to you free！〃 She pulled twice at the girl's skirt； almost as though it were a bell cord。
The girl took them； moved down the steps in the wake of her panion； holding them close to her face。 They were platted together on a single； large leaf of some sort。 She had extracted the thinly folded note twined around their stems even before she re…entered the carriage。 She opened it with one hand； read it； holding it down out of sight on the side away from Marta； as they jounced back through the narrow； erratically turning streets on their way to the cemetery。
Just a few words。 The oldest message in the world； that said nothing； that said everything。 〃Sweetness of my life。 Will you go there again today？ I will be waiting。 I have counted the hours all week long； since the last time。 Sweetness of my life； have mercy on me。〃
Somehow she got it inside the lining of her glove； refolded； by thumb motion alone。 Then she dipped her face to the violets once more。 As the Seсora Viuda had said； one couldn't change the world。
They came out of the older part of town with its tortuous； cobbled streets； where respectable； conservative families like hers lived； into one of the new semi…suburban sections； favored by foreigners and the more flashily prosperous who copied their ways…even to letting their daughters run around without an older woman in attendance。 They traversed this along a straight； broad asphalted driveway； and beyond emerged into open country for awhile。 Then in the distance ahead a symmetrical line of dark…green poplars began to peer over an intervening rise of the ground and； when they had topped it； suddenly seemed to spring forward to join the road； behind a stone wall that ran back as far as the eye could reach。
It turned and followed the roadside for a while。 All Saints Cemetery was known as the largest in the city； if not anywhere in the world。 It was said of it that it was big enough to acmodate all the world's dead at one time。
On the opposite side of the road； buildings had sprung up once more； called into being to acmodate the living who on Sundays and certain religious holidays came out here in such shoals to pay their respects to the dead。 A headstone carver's shop and workyard； littered with ornamental urns； cherubs； mourning angels； and crosses； a refreshment and eating pavilion； and others such。 They were intermittent； with large gaps between； and the whole atmosphere was one of abandoned desolation rather than life…quickened activity； somehow。
The carriage drew up at the main entrance； marked by a pair of massive bronze doors set within a stone arch； and they got out。 〃e back for us within a half…hour； no more；〃 Marta instructed the driver。
The carriage ambled aimlessly off on some mission best known to its driver…perhaps the nearest cantina at the next crossroads ahead。 As it left them； Conchita held back in seeming irresolution a minute。
〃Marta； before we go in； can't we go over to that place across the way and sit down for a minute？ I'm so thirsty。〃
Marta objected querulously； flattening the sheaf of flowers so that she could look at her clearly over their tops； 〃No； nina。 How can we？ Your mother told me to bring you right back。 Look； the sun's already far down。 Night will be upon us before we can get back to the house。〃
〃How long will it take？〃 the girl coaxed。
〃But did we e out here to visit your father's grave or did we e out here to have refrescos？ 〃 the old woman said with peevish stubbornness。
〃Just a cup of mint tea。 You know how you love your mint 'tea。 You always take it at this hour at home。〃
The chaperon wavered； obviously tempted。 She cast a look across the road； as though judging how long it would detain them to go over and back。 〃But isn't it better to go in first and pay our respects； and then have it when we e out？ The place may close。〃
〃I'm faint； Martita。 Why do you refuse me？〃
Her panion was at once all whimpering solicitude。 〃Oh my light； why didn't you tell me sooner？ What am I thinking of； standing here wrangling？ e； my heart； take me by the arm； we'll go right over。〃
They inched across the road； held to a painfully reduced gait more by the stout figure's slowness of limb than by the slender one's weakness； if the truth had been known。 The devoted Marta even had to caution her charge； 〃Not so fast； linda。 You may get dizzy。〃
The establishment was bare of customers at this hour。 A waiter with a tray tucked under his arm came attentively to the door； waiting to see where they would decide to sit before moving any further。 There was a terrace strip of terra…cotta mosaic tiling laid out in front of the place； holding a row of reedy； forlorn…looking； wafer…sized iron tables； each one with more wire…legged chairs wedged around it than it could acmodate。
〃Let's go inside out of the glare；〃 Conchita suggested demurely。
They continued on into an interior of cavelike dimness； after the outer brightness； in which a sea of other equally reedy； equally untenanted iron tables could be made out。 A loosely strung pasteboard sign proclaiming ASK FOR EL SOL BEER brushed against Marta's head as she passed below it。 She swept it indignantly aside。
They seated themselves opposite one another in a small booth against the wall； duenna and massed flowers on one side of the table； young mourner on the other。 The waiter approached。 〃Buenos dias。〃
〃Buenos dias；〃 Marta grunted； with the curtness one employee often has for another。
Conchita waited until he had gone away again； then tipped the veil from her face with an air of angelic primness。
The visibility lightened up a little around them as their eyes grew accustomed to the place； though not much beyond the blue…green transparency of a submarine deep from first to last。 Then too； the daylight outside was fast toning down； losing its contrasting vividness。
They sat for a moment or two。 〃We'll be locked out；〃 Marta mourned。 〃We'll have had the