“It must have been something very hard,” Anselmo said. “Of much emotion.”
“It was the only good thing we have done,” said a deep voice. “What are you doing now, you lazy drunken obscene unsayable son of an unnameable unmarried gypsy obscenity? What are you doing?”
Robert Jordan saw a woman of about fifty almost as big as Pablo, almost as wide as she was tall, in black peasant skirt and waist, with heavy wool socks on heavy legs, black rope-soled shoes and a brown face like a model for a granite monument. She had big but nice-looking hands and her thick curly black hair was twisted into a knot on her neck.
“Answer me,” she said to the gypsy, ignoring the others.
“I was talking to these comrades. This one comes as a dynamiter.”
“I know all that,” the mujer of Pablo said. “Get out of here now and relieve Andrés who is on guard at the top.”
“Me voy,” the gypsy said. “I go.” He turned to Robert Jordan. “I will see thee at the hour of eating.”
“Not even in a joke,” said the woman to him. “Three times you have eaten today according to my count. Go now and send me Andrés.
“Hola,” she said to Robert Jordan and put out her hand and smiled. “How are you and how is everything in the Republic?”
“Good,” he said and returned her strong hand grip. “Both with me and with the Republic.”
“I am happy,” she told him. She was looking into his face and smiling and he noticed she had fine gray eyes. “Do you come for us to do another train?”
“No,” said Robert Jordan, trusting her instantly. “For a bridge.”
“No es nada,” she said. “A bridge is nothing. When do we do another train now that we have horses?”
“Later. This bridge is of great importance.”
“The girl told me your comrade who was with us at the train is dead.”
“Yes.”
“What a pity. Never have I seen such an explosion. He was a man of talent. He pleased me very much. It is not possible to do another train now? There are many men here now in the hills. Too many. It is already hard to get food. It would be better to get out. And we have horses.”
“We have to do this bridge.”
“Where is it?”
“Quite close.”
“All the better,” the mujer of Pablo said. “Let us blow all the bridges there are here and get out. I am sick of this place. Here is too much concentration of people. No good can come of it. Here is a stagnation that is repugnant.”
She sighted Pablo through the trees.
“Borracho!” she called to him. “Drunkard. Rotten drunkard!” She turned back to Robert Jordan cheerfully. “He’s taken a leather wine bottle to drink alone in the woods,” she said. “He’s drinking all the time. This life is ruining him. Young man, I am very content that you have come.” She clapped him on the back. “Ah,” she said. “You’re bigger than you look,” and ran her hand over his shoulder, feeling the muscle under the flannel shirt. “Good. I am very content that you have come.”
“And I equally.”
“We will understand each other,” she said. “Have a cup of wine.”
“We have already had some,” Robert Jordan said. “But, will you?”
“Not until dinner,” she said. “It gives me heartburn.” Then she sighted Pablo again. “Borracho!” she shouted. “Drunkard!” She turned to Robert Jordan and shook her head. “He was a very good man,” she told him. “But now he is terminated. And listen to me about another thing. Be very good and careful about the girl. The Maria. She has had a bad time. Understandest thou?”
“Yes. Why do you say this?”
“I saw how she was from seeing thee when she came into the cave. I saw her watching thee before she came out.”
“I joked with her a little.”
“She was in a very bad state,” the woman of Pablo said. “Now she is better, she ought to get out of here.”
“Clearly, she can be sent through the lines with Anselmo.”
“You and the Anselmo can take her when this terminates.”