Dry and voiceless sobs
shook her frame convulsively.
Now she was in the barracks among the soldiers, women, hogs, and
chickens. Some of the men were sewing at their clothes while their
thighs furnished pillows for their queridas, who were reclining
on benches, smoking and gazing wearily at the ceiling. Other women
were helping some of the men clean their ornaments and arms, humming
doubtful songs the while.
"It seems that the chicks have escaped, for you've brought only the
old hen!" commented one woman to the new arrivals,--whether alluding
to Sisa or the still clucking hen is not certain.
"Yes, the hen is always worth more than the chicks," Sisa herself
answered when she observed that the soldiers were silent.
"Where's the sergeant?" asked one of the guards in a disgusted
tone. "Has report been made to the alferez yet?"
A general shrugging of shoulders was his answer, for no one was going
to trouble himself inquiring about the fate of a poor woman.
There Sisa spent two hours in a state of semi-idiocy, huddled in a
corner with her head hidden in her arms and her hair falling down in
disorder.
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