Manos Duras again raised his hand to his hat in salutation and smiled, showing his sharp wolf’s teeth.
“Command what you will, señora. Shall I kill someone for you?”
As he spoke he looked at her with eyes in which glittered a wolfish desire. Elena pretended to shrink back in alarm from what his words suggested.
“Kill! Oh no! What do you take me for? On the contrary, the favor I ask of you ought to be one you take pleasure in granting. Well, we’ll talk it over. I’ll let you know when I need you....”
As the gaucho lingered over his farewells, she indicated with a vigorous gesture that he must leave her. They were now near the site of the “park” and it would scarcely do for the marquesa to arrive without her husband and with such an escort!
Manos Duras reined in his horse to watch the cart roll down the road. For some minutes his eyes followed that most extraordinary and fascinating of all the women he had ever encountered. Then, as she passed out of sight, his submissive watch-dog’s expression changed to one of harsh aggressiveness.
The guests were entering the artificial park in full view of the envious populace who were constrained, by the comisario’s vigilance, and that of his four henchmen, to remain outside the wire fence. The guests were for the most part Spanish and Italian merchants from the nearest small towns. Some of them had come from as far as the island of Choel-Choel, the last stopping place of the few boats navigating up the river. Also the foremen and machinists of the works were arriving with their wives, arrayed in the clothes that they kept packed away for their excursions to Bahía Blanca or Buenos Aires.
Robledo was wandering through the short avenues of the park, looking ironically about at Canterac’s absurd creation. Moreno was pointing out with a good deal of pride the particularly admirable features of that part of the work which he had attended to himself.
“The handsomest thing of all is a kind of summerhouse or shrine of flowers at the end of the arbor. Undoubtedly the captain will try to carry off the marquesa and keep her there awhile, but she’s clever enough, she’ll know how to get away when she wants to....”
He winked knowingly as he spoke of Canterac’s plans; then, very gravely, by way of affirming still further his belief in the marquesa’s prudence, he remarked that “she was not the kind of woman that some people believed her to be.”