are fond of their women! The men seem manly, and the women seem very lovable and womanly.”
“It is possible that the Indian children are pure-blooded, and there is the continuity of blood. But the Indian consciousness is swamped under the stagnant water of the white man’s Dead Sea consciousness. Take a man like Benito Juarez, a pure Indian. He floods his old consciousness with the new white ideas, and there springs up a whole forest of verbiage, new laws, new constitutions and all the rest. But it is a sudden weed. It grows like a weed on the surface, saps the strength of the Indian soil underneath, and helps the process of ruin. No, madam! There is no hope for Mexico short of a miracle.”
“Ah!” cried Mirabal, flourishing his wine glass. “Isn’t that wonderful, when only the miracle will save us! When we must produce the miracle? We! We! We must