'You know that I like you. Is it
because he's richer than me?' 'Even if he were poorer than a
church-mouse I'd marry him.' 'Bah!' 'You don't believe me?' 'All
right.' Finally I got sore and I told her for all I cared she might
marry a dog, and that she was a cheap street-walker.... It's all over
now. Well, so much the better. Now we know just where we stand. Where
shall we go? To Las Injurias again?"
"What for?"
"To see if that Valencia continues to put on airs when I'm around."
They crossed the wired-off surrounding path. Leandro, taking long
strides, was very soon in Las Injurias. Manuel could hardly keep up
with him.
They entered Blasa's tavern; the same men as on the previous night
were playing cane near the stove. Of the women, only La Paloma and La
Muerte were in. The latter, dead drunk, was asleep on the table. The
light fell full upon her face which was swollen with erisypelas and
covered with scabs; saliva drooled through the thick lips of her
half-opened mouth; her tow-like hair,--grey, filthy, matted,--stuck
out in tufts beneath the faded, greenish kerchief that was soiled with
scurf; despite the shouts and the disputes of the gamblers she did not
so much as blink; only from time to time she would give a prolonged
snore, which, at the start was sibilant, but ended in a rasping snort.
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