“Either you get out, or I will call the alguacil.”
The Celestina said not another word, but tied her handkerchief about her neck as if she wished to strangle herself with it, and moved off down the street, spouting curses as she went.
The girl and the silversmith were left alone in the shop. He followed the old woman with his eyes as she went screaming along the Calle de la Feria among the noisy people who came running to their doorways as she passed. When she was out of sight, he said to the girl:
“You can go now. She’s gone.”
When she heard this, the girl began to sob again.
“For God’s sake, don’t send me away, Señor! For God’s sake!”
“I’m not going to send you away. You may stay a while if you wish.”
“No. Let me stay here always. You are good. I’ll be your servant, and you won’t have to give me a thing for it.”
“No, no—I cannot,” replied the silversmith.
Then the child knelt on the floor, and with her arms thrown wide apart, said: