Part 44 (1/2)
”We sleep just as if we were in the open country,” said one of the idlers.
”It wouldn't be at all bad,” added another, ”to take a walk now over to the Plaza Mayor and see whether they wouldn't give us a pound of ham.”
”It has trichinae in it, anyway.”
”Take care of that spring-matress,” bellowed a flat-nosed gamin who was going about striking the sleepers with a stick in the s.h.i.+ns. ”Hey, there, you're rumpling the sheets!”
At Manuel's side, a rachetic urchin with thick lips and streaked eyes and one of his feet bandaged in dirty rags, was crying and groaning; Manuel, engrossed in his own thoughts, had not noticed him before.
”Some howling you're doing,” came to the sufferer from a boy who was stretched out on the ground with his legs cramped close to his chest and his head pillowed against a rock.
”It hurts like anything.”
”Then shut up, grin and bear it. Hang yourself.”
Manuel thought that he heard El Carnicerin's voice and glanced toward the speaker. The fellow's hat was pulled down over his eyes and his face was not visible.
”Who's that?” asked Manuel of El Bizco.
”He's the captain of the cave gang: El Interprete.”
”And what's he talking to the kid like that for?”
El Bizco shrugged his shoulders with a gesture of indifference.
”What's' the trouble?” Manuel inquired of the boy.
”I have a wound in my foot,” replied the child, bursting again into tears.
”Shut up, I tell you,” interrupted El Interprete, aiming a kick at the sufferer, who managed to escape the blow. ”Go tell your troubles to your b.i.t.c.h of a mother.... d.a.m.n it all! It's impossible to sleep here.”
”Then to h.e.l.l with you!” shouted Manuel.
”Who are you talking to?” demanded El Interprete, shoving his cap back on his head and revealing a brutish face with a flat nose and high cheekbones.
”To you, you thief, you coward!”
El Interprete sprang to his feet and strode over to Manuel, who, in an excess of fury seized him with both hands by the neck, kicked him in the leg with his right heel, made him lose his balance and threw him to the ground. There he thumped him violently. El Interprete, more muscular than Manuel, was able to get to his feet again; but he had lost his nerve and Manuel, gathering strength from his anger, threw him down a second time and was about to crash a rock into his face when a pair of munic.i.p.al guards happened along and kicked them apart.
El Interprete went off disgraced.
The members of the crowd calmed down and went off, one after the other, to resume their positions around the caldron.
Manuel sat down upon some paving blocks; the struggle had wiped out the memory of the blow he had received that afternoon; he felt brave and in a jesting mood, so, facing the curiosity-hunters that were watching the group, some laughing and others eyeing the urchins with pity, he addressed them.
”The session is about to close,” he said. ”Now we shall begin the community singing lessons. We're about to commence snoring, ladies and gentlemen. Let the public have no fear. We'll take good care of the bedsheets. Tomorrow we'll send them to the river to be washed. Now is the time. Whoever so desires,” and he pointed to a rock, ”may take advantage of these pillows. They're excellent pillows, such as are used by the Marquises of Archipipi. Whoever doesn't wish to sleep on them, let him be gone and not bother us. Ea! Gentlemen! If you don't pay I'll summon the servant and tell her to close....”
”It's the same with all of them,” said one of the ragam.u.f.fins. ”They talk nonsense when they get sleepy. They all look as if they were starved.”