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announced the musical entertainment. The maids brought more candelabras, making the room bright as day, and arranged chairs around a piano, a guitar, and a harp. The women were seated in a semicircle, and the men remained standing behind their chairs. A chubby-cheeked gentleman took his place at the piano and from his butcher’s fingers flowed a delightful melody as the furniture manufacturer’s daughter interpreted an old Scots ballad in a voice so sweet that Todd quite forgot she had a face like a frightened mouse. The headmistress of the school for girls recited a heroic poem, unnecessarily long; Rose sang a couple of raffish songs in a duet with her brother John, despite Jeremy Sommers’ evident disapproval; and then Rose demanded that Jacob Todd give them the pleasure of a number from his repertoire, which allowed the visitor the opportunity to show off his fine voice.
    â€œYou are a true find, Mr. Todd! We shall not let you escape. You are sentenced to come here every Wednesday!” Rose exclaimed when the applause died down, ignoring the bewitched expression on her visitor’s face.
    Todd felt as if his teeth were sugarcoated, and his head was whirling, whether from his admiration for Rose Sommers or the liqueurs he had imbibed and the potent Cuban cigar he had smoked in the company of Captain Sommers, he didn’t know. In that house no one could refuse a dish or a refreshment without causing offense; soon he would discover that this was a national characteristic in Chile, where hospitality was manifested by forcing one’s guests to drink and eat beyond the bounds of human endurance. At nine, dinner was announced, and everyone paraded into the dining room where a new series of overly generous entrées and desserts awaited. It was near midnight when the women got up and continued their conversation in the drawing room while the men drank brandy and smoked in the dining room. Finally, when Todd felt he was on the verge of passing out, the guests began to ask for their overcoats and their coaches. The Ebelings, vitally interested in Todd’s purported evangelizing mission in Tierra del Fuego, offered to take him back to his hotel and he immediately accepted, terrified at the idea of being driven through nightmarish streets in the black of night by the Sommers’ drunken coachman. He thought the ride to the hotel would never end; he felt incapable of concentrating on the conversation, he was dizzy and his stomach was churning.
    â€œMy wife was born in Africa; she is the daughter of missionaries who preached the true faith in those lands; we know the sacrifices that entails, Mr. Todd. We do hope that you will allow us the privilege of assisting you in your noble endeavors among the natives,” Mr. Ebeling said with great solemnity as they bid one another good evening.
    That night Jacob Todd could not sleep. The vision of Rose Sommers assailed him repeatedly, and before day dawned he had made the decision to court her in earnest. He knew nothing about her, but he didn’t care; perhaps it was his destiny to lose a bet and travel to Chile in order to meet his future wife. He would have begun his courtship the very next day but he was unable to crawl out of bed, having been felled by a violent griping of the bowels. He lay there a day and a night, at some moments unconscious and at others thinking he was dying, until he could summon enough strength to put his head out the door and call for help. At his request, the hotel manager advised the Sommers, his only acquaintances in the city, and called a boy to clean up the room, which stank like a dung heap. Jeremy Sommers arrived at the hotel at midday, accompanied by the best bloodletter in Valparaíso, who fortunately had a smattering of English and who, after bleeding Jacob Todd’s legs and arms until he was nearly lifeless, explained to him that all newcomers fell ill when first they visited Chile.
    â€œThere’s no reason to