Galva watched the old woman for a moment in silence, then—
"Good-morning, Teresa." The girl had heard the name the evening before, and on the old woman looking up, she nodded brightly. "Is breakfast ready, Teresa?" she went on.
The old woman dipped her head sourly.
"Pieto shall bring it up to you," she said.
"Thanks, so much—but, by the way, tell him to take great care how he does it. Listen. He is to bring it in on a tray which he will set down on the little table here. Then he will hold up his hands, both of them, over his head and walk out backwards."
Teresa was making her way slowly towards the house, giving scant attention to the voice above her. Galva raised her voice.
"You understand, don't you, Teresa? Because if your husband doesn't do as he's told, I'll have to shoot him."
The woman in the garden stopped at this and looked up.
"You would shoot my Pieto?"
"Oh, don't be afraid, Teresa; I'd only shoot him in the leg. Then you'd have to nurse him, you know, and that would be a pity, wouldn't it? Think of keeping an eye on a prisoner and an invalid at the same time."