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Reality turns out to be somewhat less generous. It is nighttime, yes, but he is not in his parents’ mansion. Instead, he is reading in the garret, so there is no maid, no service entrance. It isn’t raining either, of course. In fact, it is quite a pleasant night for a stroll. Furthermore, José doesn’t have to wait outside at all. The watchman opens the door for him straightaway, and he climbs the stairs on his own, as he has so many times before, and knocks on the garret door.

Only José himself is just as Carlos has imagined him. He stammers and seems unsure of how to go about this encounter. Maybe he thinks the grandson of José Gálvez Egúsquiza should not have to apologize for anything. Perhaps he even has the poor taste to remember the Rodríguezes’ past and compare it with his own illustrious pedigree, and so finds this humiliating scene all the more grotesque. In his hand he is carrying the bundle of letters, his reason for being there, despite all the blood the Gálvez family has spilled for the good of the nation.

His voice trembling, he makes a few false starts.

He says:

“You were right. What we did was vile and deplorable.”

And then:

“Something terrible has happened, and I need your help; Georgina and I need you . . .”

And then:

“I’ve missed you . . .”

There is no rain, no maid, no parents’ mansion. Strictly speaking, there’s not even a real apology. But Carlos doesn’t need all that. He doesn’t even need José to finish his speech, those halting sentences mutilated by shame. He goes to José and puts his arms around him; he calls him brother and tells him he’s missed him too. Missed both of them.