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She made an energetic gesture of negation. A silence fell.
‘Oh, yes, I know it’s contrary to the doctrine laid down
in the ‘History of Fifty Years’ Misrule.’ I am only trying to
be sensible. But my sense seems always to give you cause for
offence. Have I startled you very much with this perfectly
reasonable aspiration?’
She shook her head. No, she was not startled, but the
idea shocked her early convictions. Her patriotism was
larger. She had never considered that possibility.
‘It may yet be the means of saving some of your convic-
tions,’ he said, prophetically.
She did not answer. She seemed tired. They leaned side
by side on the rail of the little balcony, very friendly, having
exhausted politics, giving themselves up to the silent feeling
of their nearness, in one of those profound pauses that fall
upon the rhythm of passion. Towards the plaza end of the
street the glowing coals in the brazeros of the market wom-
en cooking their evening meal gleamed red along the edge of
the pavement. A man appeared without a sound in the light
of a street lamp, showing the coloured inverted triangle of
his bordered poncho, square on his shoulders, hanging to a
point below his knees. From the harbour end of the Calle a
horseman walked his soft-stepping mount, gleaming silver-
grey abreast each lamp under the dark shape of the rider.
‘Behold the illustrious Capataz de Cargadores,’ said De-
coud, gently, ‘coming in all his splendour after his work is
done. The next great man of Sulaco after Don Carlos Gould.
But he is good-natured, and let me make friends with him.’
‘Ah, indeed!’ said Antonia. ‘How did you make friends?’

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