That night Pastiri was saturated with alcohol and had lost all power
of speech.
Manuel, who had drunk a little too much, was beginning to feel sick
and considered how he might manage to make his escape; but by the time
he had made up his mind the tavern-keeper's brother was already
locking the door.
Before he had quite done so there came in, through the space that was
still left open, an under-grown fellow, shaved, dressed in black, with
a visored woollen cap, curly hair and the repellant appearance of a
hermaphrodite. He greeted Leandro affectionately. He was a lacemaker
from Uncle Rilo's house, of dubious repute and called Besugito
(sea-bream) because his face suggested a fish; by way of more cruel
sobriquet they had christened him the "Barrack hack."
The lacemaker took a sip from a glass, standing, and began to talk in
a thick voice; yet it was a feminine voice, unctuous, disagreeable,
and he emphasized his words with mimicked wonder, fright, and other
mannerisms.
Nobody was bothered by his loquacity. Some fine day when they least
expected, he informed them, the entire district of Las Injurias was
going to be buried beneath the ruins of the Gas House.
"As far as I'm concerned," he went on, "this entire hollow ought to be
filled in with earth. Of course, I'd feel sorry, for I have some good
friends in this section.
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