At this moment the landlady was asleep, seated upon the rocking-chair
before the open balcony; Petra, in the kitchen, was likewise asleep,
with her head resting against the window-frame, while the old
early-rising gentleman amused himself by coughing in bed.
Petra had finished scouring and her drowsiness, the heat and fatigue
had doubtless overcome her. She could be made out dimly in the light
of the small lamp that hung by the hearth. She was a thin, scrawny
woman, flat-chested, with lean arms, big red hands and skin of greyish
hue. She slept seated upon a chair with her mouth open; her breathing
was short and laboured.
At the strokes of the corridor clock she suddenly awoke; she shut the
window, through which came a nauseating, stable-like odour from the
milk-dairy on the ground-floor; she folded the clothes and left with a
pile of dishes, depositing them upon the dining-room table; then she
laid away in a closet the table-ware, the tablecloth and the left-over
bread; she took down the lamp and entered the room in the balcony of
which the landlady sat sleeping.
"Senora, senora!" she called, several times.
"Eh? What is it?" murmured Dona Casiana drowsily.
"Perhaps you wish something?"
"No, nothing. Oh, yes! Tell the baker tomorrow that I'll pay him the
coming Monday."
"Very well.
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