Andthe wounded boy would be prostrate, not really
much hurt, but as ifhe was killed. Queer, the savage ferocity with which the girls
would suddenly bethrowing stones at one another. At a water-hole of a stream in the
beach, acluster of women were busily washing clothes.
But even now, he was not yielding to his
love.
He came forward, the ends of his sash swinging
againsthis thighs, his sandals slightly swishing.
All the Mexicans, as soon as they rise above
themselves, go thatway, said Doña Carlota. Or the twowere suddenly throwing stones
at one another. Now wont you come and spend the day with me while I am here withDon
Ramón? Instead, there wasanother zaguán, or passage with closed doors piercing the
house.
Maria del Carmen, in her oneblack dress, would
squat on the floor and pat tortillas. I am so SORRY my husband interests himself in
this thing.
Instead, there wasanother zaguán, or passage with
closed doors piercing the house.
They didnt want the thing theywere
pursuing.
I heard, he said, with a rather stiff smile. And if
she thought he were ill, a black sort of fatalistic fearcame over her. No, no,
shedidnt want finally to drive her Niña away.
The two hundred acres along the lake-shorewere
mostly lost to him.
Butthe Pueblo Indians rarely lapsing from speech
into violence.
The workmen dress up and parade a best girl on
their arm.
Mariawanted to learn to read: that she did
want.
Hebelonged to Sayula, and had come back for a
visit. Andthe wounded boy would be prostrate, not really much hurt, but as ifhe was
killed.
Though the men seemed very gentleand protective to
the little children. Butthe white was linen, slightly starched, and brilliant,
almostunnatural in its whiteness.
They had been hopelessly and cruellyexploited, for
centuries.
And thenthe wounded one would drop right down, with
a howl, as if dead.
And their backbones were locked inmalevolent
resistance.
I would like to change my shoes, said Kate. She
took Kates hands and led her across the open terrace at thetop of the
stairs.
What does he THINK hewants to do,
anyhow?
His loose trousers were bound round the ankles
withblue, red, and black woollen braids.
An elderly man, withgrey in his moustache, he had
bright young eyes and seemed full ofenergy. The two women sat in their bent-wood
rocking-chairs and justsobbed. No men in the world can carryheavier loads on their
backs, for longer distances, than theseIndians.
The two girls could not be apart: they must always
be running afterone another.