And the barraca? And the land? They were still deserted. Truly? That pleased her;—let them go to smash,—let them go to rack and ruin,—those sons of the rascally don Salvador.
That alone seemed to console her: she was very grateful to Pimentó and to all the others, because they had prevented those people yonder from coming to work the land which rightfully belonged to the family. And if any one wished to take possession of it, he knew only too well the remedy.... Bang! A report from a gun which would blow his head off!
The girl grew bolder; her eyes gleamed fiercely; within the passive breast of the prostitute, accustomed to blows, there came to life the daughter of the huerta, who, from very birth, has seen the musket hung behind the door, and breathed in the smell of gunpowder on feast-days with delight.
After speaking of the sad past Rosario, whose curiosity was awakened, went on inquiring about all the folks at home, and ended by noticing how badly Pepeta looked. Poor thing! It was perfectly apparent that she was not happy. Although still young, her eyes, clear, guileless, and timid as a virgin's, alone revealed her real age. Her body was a mere skeleton, and her reddish hair, the colour of a tender ear of corn, was streaked with grey though as yet she had not reached her thirtieth year.
What kind of a life was Pimentó giving her? Always drunk and averse to work? She had brought it upon herself, marrying him contrary to every one's advice. He was a strapping fellow, that was true; every one feared him in the tavern of Copa on Sunday evenings, when he played cards with the worst bullies of the huerta; but in the house, he was bound to prove an insufferable husband. Still, after all, men are all alike! Perhaps she didn't know it! Dogs, all of them, not worth the trouble of being looked after! Great Heavens! how ill poor Pepeta was looking!
The loud, deep voice of a virago resounded like a clap of thunder down the narrow stairway.
"Elisa! Bring up the milk at once! The gentleman is waiting!"
Rosario began to laugh as though mad. "I am called Elisa now! You didn't know that!"
It was a requirement of her business to change her name, as well as to speak with an Andalusian accent. And she began to imitate the voice of the virago upstairs with a species of rough humour.
But in spite of her mirth, she was in a hurry to get away. She was afraid of those upstairs. The owner of the rough voice or the gentleman who wanted the milk might give her some memento of the delay. So she hurried up after urging Pepeta to stop again some other time to tell her the news of the huerta.