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Updated: June 2, 2025
The washing-women were pressed close about Faquita, who stood with thumbs on her broad hips, the fingers contracting and snapping as she spoke, wisps of hair bobbing back and forth about her shrewd black eyes and scolding mouth. "Who is he? Where she meet him?" cried the audience. "Oh, thou old carreta! Why canst thou not talk faster?"
A number of figures were coming towards them, among them Faquita, who ran a little ahead to meet her mistress. "Oh, Dona Maruja, he has escaped!" "Who? Not Pereo!" "Truly. And on his horse. It was saddled and bridled in the stable all day. One knew it not.
And Don Ramon dost thou know why he leaves Monterey one hour after he comes?" Her tone was sarcastic, but in it was a note of apprehension. Mariquita tossed her head, and all pressed close about the rivals. "What dost thou know, this time?" inquired the girl, provokingly. "Hast thou any letter to read today? Thou dost forget, old Faquita, that Ana is my friend "
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