It was Rafaela, Rafaela herself, with two children clinging to her hands, and another carried by a nurse and protected by a parasol. Quentin went over to her.
They greeted each other emotionally.
Rafaela was scarcely recognizable; she had taken on flesh and looked extremely healthy; she dressed very elegantly. The only thing that she retained of her former appearance was her sweet, gentle eyes, clear and blue. Her smile was now motherly.
Rafaela and Quentin talked for a long time. She told him of her great grief over the illness of her children. One had died; fortunately the other two children had become stronger, thanks to the open air; and the little girl, the baby at breast, promised to be very strong.
“And Remedios?” asked Quentin.
“Remedios!” exclaimed Rafaela. “You don’t know how provoked I am with her.”
“Why?”
“Because she has an impossible nature. She will not yield to anything.”
“Yes, even as a child one could see that she had a will of her own.”
“Well, she has a much greater one now. She has hated my husband and my mother-in-law from the very first; and they have done all in their power to please her and spoil her ... but no.”