For Whom the Bell Tolls - Ernest Hemingway [66]
“What barbarians,” said Pilar. “Where is El Sordo? I do not see him.”
“He is here. He is probably inside,” answered Joaquín and stopping now, and resting the rifle butt on the ground, said, “Pilar, listen to me. And thou, Maria. Forgive me if I have molested you speaking of things of the family. I know that all have the same troubles and it is more valuable not to speak of them.”
“That you should speak,” Pilar said. “For what are we born if not to aid one another? And to listen and say nothing is a cold enough aid.”
“But it can molest the Maria. She has too many things of her own.”
“Qué va,” Maria said. “Mine are such a big bucket that yours falling in will never fill it. I am sorry, Joaquín, and I hope thy sister is well.”
“So far she’s all right,” Joaquín said. “They have her in prison and it seems they do not mistreat her much.”
“Are there others in the family?” Robert Jordan asked.
“No,” the boy said. “Me. Nothing more. Except the brother-inlaw who went to the hills and I think he is dead.”
“Maybe he is all right,” Maria said. “Maybe he is with a band in other mountains.”
“For me he is dead,” Joaquín said. “He was never too good at getting about and he was conductor of a tram and that is not the best preparation for the hills. I doubt if he could last a year. He was Somewhat weak in the chest too.”
“But he may be all right,” Maria put her arm on his shoulder.
“Certainly, girl. Why not?” said Joaquín.
As the boy stood there, Maria reached up, put her arms around his neck and kissed him. Joaquín turned his head away because he was crying.
“That is as a brother,” Maria said to him. “I kiss thee as a brother.”
The boy shook his head, crying without making any noise.
“I am thy sister,” Maria said. “And I love thee and thou hast a family. We are all thy family.”
“Including the Inglés,” boomed Pilar. “Isn’t it true, Inglés?”
“Yes,” Robert Jordan said to the boy, “we are all thy family, Joaquín.”
“He’s your brother,” Pilar said. “Hey Inglés?”
Robert Jordan put his arm around the boy’s shoulder. “We are all brothers,” he said. The boy shook his head.
“I am ashamed to have spoken,” he said. “To speak of such things makes it more difficult for all. I am ashamed of molesting you.”
“I obscenity in the milk of my shame,” Pilar said in her deep lovely voice. “And if the Maria kisses thee again I will commence kissing thee myself. It’s years since I’ve kissed a bullfighter, even an unsuccessful one like thee, I would like to kiss an unsuccessful bullfighter turned Communist. Hold him, Inglés, till I get a good kiss at him.”
“Deja,” the boy said and turned away sharply. “Leave me alone. I am all right and I am ashamed.”
He stood there, getting his face under control. Maria put her hand in Robert Jordan’s. Pilar stood with her hands on her hips looking at the boy mockingly now.
“When I kiss thee,” she said to him, “it will not be as any sister. This trick of kissing as a sister.”
“It is not necessary to joke,” the boy said. “I told you I am all right, I am sorry that I spoke.”
“Well then let us go and see the old man,” Pilar said. “I tire myself with such emotion.”
The boy looked at her. From his eyes you could see he was suddenly very hurt.
“Not thy emotion,” Pilar said to him. “Mine. What a tender thing thou art for a bullfighter.”
“I was a failure,” Joaquín said. “You don’t have to keep insisting on it.”
“But you are growing the pigtail another time.”
“Yes, and why not? Fighting stock serves best for that purpose economically. It gives employment to many and the State will control it. And perhaps now I would not be afraid.”
“Perhaps not,” Pilar said. “Perhaps not.”
“Why do you speak in such a brutal manner, Pilar?” Maria said to her. “I love thee very much but thou art acting very barbarous.”
“It is possible that I am barbarous,” Pilar said. “Listen, Inglés. Do you know what you are going to say to El Sordo?”
“Yes.”
“Because he is a man of few words unlike me and thee and