He wished to say to him just two words: he had been wanting to do so for some time, but how? did he never come forth from his land?
Two little words, no more.
And he gave him the couple of words, counselling him to leave the lands of old Barret as soon as possible. He should believe the people who wished him well, those who knew the huerta. His presence there was an offence, and the farm-house, which was almost new, was an insult to the poor people. He ought to believe him, and with his family go away to other parts.
Batiste smiled ironically on hearing Pimentó, who seemed confused by the serenity of the intruder, humbled by meeting a man who did not seem afraid of him.
Go away? There was not a bully in all the huerta who could make him abandon that which was now his; that which was watered by his sweat; moreover he had to earn bread for his family. He was a peaceful man, understand! but if they trifled with him, he had just as much manly spirit as most. Let every one attend to his own business, for he thought that he would do enough if he attended to his own, and failed nobody.
And scornfully turning his back upon the Valencian, he went his way.
Pimentó, accustomed to making all the huerta tremble, was more and more disconcerted by the serenity of Batiste.
"Is that your last word?" he shouted to him when he was already at some distance.
"Yes, the last," answered Batiste without turning.
And he went ahead, disappearing in a curve of the road. At some distance, on the old farm of Barret, the dog was barking, scenting the approach of his master.