When Manos Duras stepped into the “Almacén del Gallego,” he noticed that there were many more customers there than on other workday afternoons. Everyone was talking about the contractor’s death.
“That woman did it all,” someone was shouting. “She’s to blame for the whole thing, the—!”
Manos Duras bethought him of the afternoon when he had first seen the marquesa; and the memory was enough to make him look as aggressively at the man who was talking as though the words contained an insult for him.
“If two men chose to fight with bullets for this lady, what have you got to say about it?... I’m just as ready as they were to draw a bead on anyone who insults her.... Come on now, let’s see if there’s one of you dares step on my poncho....”
This gaucho challenge was received in silence by the Gallego’s patrons. When the talk began again it was about subjects that Manos Duras could not take exception to.
At nightfall Torre Bianca from one of his windows looked wonderingly at the groups of people in the street. Their number had noticeably increased. Then he noticed that the comisario, who had just returned from Fuerte Sarmiento, was going about talking to different people in the crowd, urging them to go home. When he saw the marqués at the window the police commissioner raised his hat to him.
Men and women turned to stare at Elena’s husband. Many of the glances turned in his direction were hostile, but no one dared make any demonstration against him.
Torre Bianca could not conceal his amazement at having so many eyes fastened upon him. Then he took in the fact that there was something very unfriendly in the glances coming his way. Haughtily, but sadly, he closed the window. He did not understand.
A little later Sebastiana opened the house door and leaned over the railing of the balcony. She was irresistibly attracted by this crowd in which she spied many old friends. But when they saw her, the women who were in the street began to gesticulate and shriek out insults.
Annoyed by such an incomprehensible reception, she replied in the same fashion; but crushed finally by the strength of numbers of her enemies, and seeing that several of the men were joining in the attack on her, contributing loud guffaws and vile names, she retired defeated. Her meditations in the kitchen during the next few hours brought her to an alarming conclusion. Every woman of the region, even though she might formerly have been a friend, would now be against her because she was in the service of the marquesa!