Then the alfereza, taking the woman with one hand and whipping her with another, began to jump and dance.
The insane woman understood her at last and went on moving her arms regardless of time or tune. A smile of satisfaction contracted the lips of the teacher. It was like the smile of a female Mephistopheles who had succeeded in developing a good pupil; it was full of hatred, contempt, mockery and cruelty; a coarse laugh could not have expressed more.
Absorbed in the enjoyment which the spectacle afforded her, she did not hear her husband coming, until he opened the door with a kick.
The alferez appeared, pale and gloomy. He saw what was going on there and looked daggers at his wife. She did not move from her tracks and stood smiling in a cynical way.
In the gentlest manner possible, he put his hand on the shoulder of the dancing woman and made her stop. The demented woman sighed and slowly sat down on the blood-covered floor.
The silence continued. The alferez was breathing heavily. His wife was observing him with her questioning eyes. She seized the whip and in a calm and measured tone asked him: “What’s the matter with you? You have not said ‘good evening’ to me.”
The alferez, without replying, called the orderly.
“Take this woman,” he said, “and have Marta give her another shirt and take care of her. Find her good food, and a good bed.... Let him look out who treats her badly!”
After carefully closing the door, he turned the key in the lock and approached his señora.
“You want me to smash you?” he said, clenching his fists.