Cazeem thought about what Francisco had told him, and if he thought about it, he was right. Francisco did indeed have much more than he did. It showed. He could always afford to buy the most expensive of everything. His clothes always looked expensive and new. Now, of course, he also dressed differently than he did when he was the King of Thieves, but that was due to the fact that Aladdin was sultan. Francisco said that he lived off his son and his daughter-in-law's charity, and Cazeem hated to acknowledge that he was right. That was the only reason he was in the Palace this minute. If it wasn't for Aladdin, he would probably be on the street this minute. Or even with the Fourty Thieves. Most of what Francisco had told him was common sense. Aida's father probably would give his approval for Francisco to marry his daughter. She would have a much brighter future ahead. He would probably be shocked at Cazeem, just as maybe Aladdin and Jasmine would be.
After getting back to his hotel room, after that meeting with Cazeem, Francisco opened a letter from his mother. She wrote to him constantly. He loved his mother very much, but sometimes she seemed a bit overprotective, and she sometimes emphasized so much on the wrong things. Like money, and appearances. She sometimes got on his nerves. He opened the letter. She asked when he was planning on coming home. Francisco wrote back that he would probably not be going home for some time. He had his mind set. The next time he would be going back to Dzonot would be with Aida as his bride. He knew he could get her father's approval in marrying her. He wrote this back to his mother, knowing that she probably would faint, and then, as soon as she recovered, would probably write asking every single detail about Aida, so he decided to just write everything about her now. He also added, if she couldn't find someone to send him more tequila and cigars. After all, the finest tequila in all the world came from Mexico, so even if he did find it here, it would probably not be very good. He sealed it, and decided to take it in the post office tomorrow morning, first thing. H looked out the window, hoping that his arguments had convinced Cazeem to take his eyes off Aida, set his sights lower, and find someone else, more appropriate for himself. Just why did he have to fly so high, as to set his eyes on a princess? After all, he certainly wasn't at her level, for all that he was the sultan's father.
"Just delivering a letter to the post office for my mother."he told Aida the next morning, when she met him on his way to the post office.
"Oh. And what is your mother like?"she asked.
"Physically, or you mean her personality?"
"Well, both."
"Then let's see, physically, well, she has dark hair, which she never leaves loose. She always wears it tied up neatly in a bun, with a part in the middle, she had brown eyes, white skin, she's not very tall, or short, either. I don't know if you can imagine her now, and as for her personality, what can I say. She's a very hard judge as to who is a lady and who a gentleman. Not that she thinks less of lower class people, or people with less education, no, though sometimes she can act a bit snobby about it. Like, everyone has their place. She doesn't think less of, let's say, the workers, but she says they don't belong in the Big House, that's what they were born to do, that's what they were placed on the Earth for, that kind of thing. It's just that…well, see, it's something like, if you go to Church, you go to confession, that sort of thing, she thinks you're a very well-bred kind of person. She thinks that you're a good person, in other words. If you don't, like, if you're say, the town bad woman, you don't even deserve to go into the Church, and all that. You don't have to have money for my mother to respect you. You just have to pretend, at least, that you're honestly devout to the Church. And you mustn't speak ill of the Church, Christ or God in front of her. Once you do something bad, well, let's say in her eyes, you can't recover. Ever. She's very moralistic. You can't do a single bad thing, because, she'll just never forgive you. You've just lost your standing in her eyes. She's a very hard judge, God knows it's not Christian, not to forgive, and judge people the way she does, she's very stiff-necked, and very strict, but, what can we do about it? What do you think? You're probably thinking, oh no, thank heavens his mother isn't here with him."
"Well, yes, in a way I am thinking that. But, no, in another way, I think I'd like to meet your mother. Do you suppose she would think me a bad person and judge me because I don't go to church and I'm Muslim?"
"I don't think so. She doesn't think anything about people of other religions. She just likes to remind that she's Catholic. That's it. She doesn't have anything about other religions. Like at her table, regardless of your religion, if you sit at her table, during Lent, you will eat absolutely no red meat, and at home, we only serve one meal a day during that time. You know, those are the rules. No one eats anything during the day. You should see what she does, if you do. Once, she caught one of the kitchen maids, eating a snack, during he Lent. Poor girl! I swear, my mother was really close to whipping her, but she send for the Priest, made this girl go to confession, confess what she did, my mother made her say who knows how many Rosaries, and she went the rest of the Lent with just bread and water, the year after that, too. You also join, or at least listen to the Catholic prayers, after dinner. But no, I think my mother would like you."
"I guess she probably just wants people to show respect for her Church, and all that."
Francisco nodded.
"Yes, she is one of the people closest to el Padre Jesus. He's the priest at the town close to our hacienda. And exceptionally close to el Padre Mateo, he's the priest at the hacienda. She can spend hours and hours praying, and she goes to confession at least once a week."
"What about you?"
"I do it, too. Not as often as she does, but I do it. That's one of the reasons she didn't want me to come. She sayed she was afraid that I would do something bad, being so far away from a priest's guidance, and not being able to confess. She's been nagging me about that in her letters. Have I been to confession? Have I been to confession?"
"And have you?"
"Well, no. There isn't a priest here, is there? Or if there is, then would you be so kind as to tell me how to contact him? It would take such a load off my mother's shoulders."
Aida giggled.
"No, I don't think there is a priest anywhere near here."
"I didn't expect there to be one, anyway. And apart from looking for me, do you have some other business here, in the marketplace?"
"No."
"That's good, because you see, just yesterday, I saw something that perhaps would be of interest to you."
"Really, what would that be?"
"Well, just accompany all the way to the post office, and when I'll show you when we get back."
"You know I couldn't say no, once you've got my attention. I'm just too curious a person. That's one of the things my aunt couldn't stand about me."
"Tsk, tsk. Your aunt needs to learn new things, too. She seems too…like she leads a depressing life."
"She does. Except for her money, which according to her is the only important thing."
"I'm guessing the Sultan's father thinks along those same lines."
"Why?"she challenged.
"Why else? It seems obvious. He doesn't spend much, though. I have relatives like that. They are so cheap. They won't let go of a single penny. It's so annoying. They can't spend their own money, however, you should see how quick they spend other people's money. But they're too proud to take charity from anybody."
"So then, how do they live?"
"By spending only for the bare necessities, to invest to make more money, and by buying the cheapest of everything."
"They must spend more than most people do, then."
"They do. They just don't realize it."
They left Francisco's letter at the post office, turned around, and headed back towards the crowded marketplace.
"So, according to you what would be of great interest to me?"
"You'll see."
They walked on and on.
"Just a little further."he kept on saying.
"You've said that already."
"Well, then maybe I should say it again. See, we're here."
He walked up to a couple of people whom Aida didn't remember seeing ever before in the marketplace. She looked at what they were selling. They were clothes, that was obvious. Some she recognized seeing on her travels with her aunt, others didn't look familiar at all.
"I think I've seen several of these clothes, before."she said.
"Well, have you seen these?"he asked, pointing to a corner.
"No. Where are they from?"
"Well, let's just say you can get a clearer view of what my mother looks like with these clothes. These kinds she uses for formal occasions, and when she has guests. These others she uses for when, just when she wants to feel comfortable."
"Oh! I see. These are from Mexico."
"Exactly."
"Oh, these look so beautiful!"she exclaimed, looking at the ones he said were for formal occasions. "They come in the loveliest colors! And so…so, well, so pretty, too."
"Yeah, they are."
"You've never been to Mexico, but I thought this ought to give you some idea."
"It does."
"Well, just choose whichever dresses, hats, or whatever you like, and I'll pay for them."
"Oh, but I have my own money."
"But I said that I'd pay for them. You will offend me greatly, if you don't let me pay."
"Well, why not."
"I've never been able to understand why in Japan they wear these robes, I think they're called. I've always thought they looked a little ridiculous."he said, pointing to something else.
"Well, that's just what they like, I guess."
"I guess so. Each to his own."
They spend the rest of the afternoon, while Aida looked at the dresses, and chose out the ones she liked best. She also chose some for Jasmine. Then, Francisco paid, and he carried everything back to the Palace for her.
"I never knew you could carry so much, Francisco."
"Now you see I can."he said, stopping at the entrance. "It was mostly those stairs that took a lot out of me. I'll see you tomorrow, I hope."
"Yes."
Just as he was getting ready to go down the steps, Francisco turned around, and before leaving, pulled Aida into arms, and kissed her.
