Elena sat absorbed in thought, sitting in an armchair. Then she took up a position near the window where she could look out on the main street without being seen.
As a matter of fact she could be seen only by two of the four policemen of La Presa. Don Roque had placed them near the house so that there should be no more gathering in groups around it as on the day before. For the moment the people of the settlement seemed to have forgotten Pirovani’s former dwelling. No one seemed at all inclined to stop in front of it, and the comisario’s precaution seemed superfluous. Besides many of the workmen from the dam had gone to Fuerte Sarmiento to be present at the contractor’s funeral. The others were either in the Gallego’s shop, or gathering to talk in different places on the outskirts of the town, where they heatedly discussed the possibility of the immediate suspension of the work, which would leave most of them out of employment.
Some of the more optimistic ones were certain that on the very next train a new chief engineer would arrive, quite as though the government at Buenos Aires could not go on for a day without starting up the works at the dam again. The Galician and some of the other Spaniards were betting on don Manuel Robledo as the new director of the works.
Some of the old peons who had labored on all the public works of the country shrugged their shoulders with characteristic fatalism.
“The cart is caught in the mire, and you’ll see a long time pass before its wheels revolve again!”
Meanwhile Elena, standing behind the window, was gazing at the solitary street and mentally reviewing all the difficulties of her present situation. Pirovani dead ... Canterac a fugitive ... she no longer even knew who owned the house she was living in. Besides this, Robledo must have been talking about her to the only man whose presence gave emotional interest to the monotony of her life in that God-forsaken country. Perhaps at that very moment this man, whom she needed, was with that girl who had tried to lash her face with a riding whip....
Never, in the whole course of her complicated history, the many phases of which she alone knew, had she found herself placed in a situation so difficult. Even that heterogeneous mob, in which there was many a man with a European crime record, dared to criticize her, and went so far as to force the public authorities to set a guard over her ... there they were, those two men armed with sabres, just within sight of her window. And she had crossed the ocean and come to live in this wild land only to find herself in this lamentable situation!
She had always found a way out of the difficulties of her life, she had always discovered a solution. Sometimes it was a bad one, and sometimes profitable ... but what was the solution of the difficulties that faced her now?... Should she go away? But how? She and her husband were as penniless as when they arrived; more so, since Robledo was not going to pay their fare back. And where could they go, with the law lying in wait for her husband if he should return to Paris?
She was terrified at the thought of remaining in La Presa. Her life there had been tolerable up to the present, thanks to Pirovani’s generosity, and the rivalry she had stirred up among the men of the community. But now that the Italian was dead she would have to give up this house that was palatial compared to the other dwellings of the settlement. No one would come any more to admire her, pay her attentions, and desire her, doing everything to make life agreeable for her. Only Robledo remained ... and he was an enemy! And as for Watson, who might have provided the solution she was seeking ... there was his partner in the way!
An idea that she had been cherishing of late passed through her mind. When she had been out riding with Watson, it had occurred to her more than once that now was the time to leave Torre Bianca, who was, after all, a failure, who would never succeed in getting ashore from the shipwreck.... But with Watson she would be able to make her way in the world. He was young, energetic.... With the advice of an experienced woman to guide him through a life of adventure, he would succeed anywhere. In her previous life she had had similar experiences under far less favorable circumstances.... But of what use to think about Watson? This solution was denied her. An implacable hate burned in her at the thought.