And still she had not yet reached the point of knowing what she should do and say when he came.
When she tried to rise to her feet she was obliged to make two efforts before she succeeded. She had given such a passion of strength to her siege that she was almost exhausted, and she went out into the dazzling sunlight trembling. She did this day after day, day after day, and at night she waited by the wall, but the road was always the same.
And she could hear nothing—not a word. She could not ask, even though sometimes as she sat and gazed at José with hungry eyes it seemed as if she must drop dead if he did not speak. But he did not speak because he could have told her but little, and was quite secure in his belief that the mere mention of Sebastiano’s name angered her.
So the time went by—weeks and months—and at last one evening she went to the church and prayed a new prayer.
“Sacred Mother,” she said, “I have sold the comb and the necklace, and I have worked and can keep my word. I have bought a little golden heart. And if he comes”—in a fainter whisper—“if he comes I will say nothing ill to him.”
That night, for the first time, she heard of Sebastiano.
Little Carlos came in and was full of news.
“They say that Sebastiano has had great success, and that perhaps he will go to America.”
“Where is America?” asked Jovita.
“It is at the other end of the world, and never yet have the people seen a bull-fight.”