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Nothing more and nothing less.
Chantal looked for the last time at the valley, the mountains and the woods where she used to walk as a child, and she felt in her mouth the taste of the crystal-cle
ar water, of the freshly picked vegetables and the local wine made from the best grapes in the region, jealously guarded by the villagers so that no visiting tourist would ever discover it--given that the harvest was too small to be exported elsewhere, and that money might change the wine producer's mind on the subject.
She had only returned to say goodbye to Berta. She was wearing the same clothes she usually wore, so that nobody there would know that, in her short visit to the city, she had become a wealthy woman. The stranger had arranged everything, signing all the papers necessary for the transfer in ownership of the gold bars, so that they could be sold and the money deposited in Miss Prym's newly opened account. The bank clerk had been exaggeratedly discreet and had asked no questions beyond those necessary for the transactions. But Chantal was sure she knew what he was thinking: he assumed he was looking at the young mistress of an older man.
"What a wonderful feeling!" she thought. In the bank clerk's estimation, she must be extremely good in bed to be worth that immense amount of money.
She passed some of the local residents: none of them knew that she was about to leave, and they greeted her as if nothing had happened, as if Viscos had never received a visit from the Devil. She returned the greeting, also pretending that that day was exactly the same as every other day in her life.
She did not know how much she had changed thanks to all she had discovered about herself, but she had time to find out. Berta was sitting outside her house--not because she was still on the watch for Evil, but because she didn't know what else to do with her life.
"They're going to build a fountain in my honor," she announced. "It's the price for my silence. But I know the fountain won't last long or quench many people's thirst, because Viscos is doomed whichever way you look at it: not because of a devil who appeared in these parts, but because of the times we live in."
Chantal asked what the fountain would look like. Berta had decided that it should be a sun spouting water into the mouth of a frog. She was the sun and the priest was the frog.
"I'm quenching his thirst for light and will continue to do so for as long as the fountain remains."
The mayor had complained about the cost, but Berta would not listen, and so they had no choice. Building work was due to start the following week.
"And now you are finally going to do as I suggested, my girl. One thing I can tell you with absolute certainty: life can seem either very long or very short, according to how you live it."
Chantal smiled, gave her a kiss, and turned her back on Viscos for the last time. The old woman was right: there was no time to lose, though she hoped that her life would be very long indeed.
