They refused seconds and I insisted. And the division of thirds was put on the basis that there wasn't enough to save. And with the few divided drops of that third there came into Rocinante a triumphant human magic that can bless a house, or a truck for that matter — nine people gathered in complete silence and the nine parts making a whole as surely as my arms and legs are a part of me, separate and inseparable. Such a fabric cannot be prolonged and should not be. The patriarch gave some kind of signal. My guests squirmed out of their squeezed-up seat behind the table and the adieux, as they should be, were short and formal. They went into the light, their way home lighted by the chieftain John carrying a tin kerosene lantern. They walked in saline among sleepy stumbling children and I never saw them again. But I like them.