We arrive in the city of Zacatecas, whose residents are courtesans. The townsfolk come out and offer us their services for a discount, so Pearl and I spend some of our money. Then, when we’re walking away, we meet a damsel in distress, who begs us to allow her to join our journey. “I can act as your guide,” she says.
“Thanks, but no,” I reply. “My sister and I just finished doing business with your countrywomen; we are now satisfied, therefore we wish to resume our travels. And we need no navigational help, for the place where we’re going does not exist on any map; moreover, if we were to take on company, it could jeopardize our mission.”
Hearing this, the distressed damsel starts to cry. The sight of teardrops tugs at my sister Pearl’s heartstrings, so she draws me aside and whispers, “Listen, there’s room on my horse — why don’t we let the damsel ride along? After all, she’s in distress!”
But I am reluctant to consider this. I fear that the extra traveler will slow us down. So Pearl says: “Relax, Mary; I’ll take full responsibility for the situation.”
After another moment of thought, I acquiesce: “Fine, the dame can join us,” I say; “but if she proves trouble, I will personally escort her home.”
These words of mine so delight the damsel that she runs up and kisses me. — I wipe my mouth and say: “Now let’s get going.”
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