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Updated: May 28, 2025
She had meant to do him a favor. Keep him from looking like a fool to the town. But if he was satisfied, why should any one else care? He could go on being the happy cuckold, and joy go with him. And she made off, on the run, throwing back, in insolent mockery, the epithets that had been rained on Pascualo the day the Mayflower put to sea: "Steer, hornpate, llanut!"
In a few hours they would be up and out on the streets, walking past him as that "cat" had just walked past, but nudging each other at sight of him and whispering: "There goes Pascualo el llanut!" Never! Ch st, he would die first! His mother hadn't brought him into the world to be the butt of the whole Cabañal. First, Tonet! And then Dolores! And then every damned man who got in his way.
But you're going to see, Rosario, and this whole town is going to see, how Pascualo el llanut goes about things like this!" "No, Pascualo, no," begged Rosario, seizing him by his powerful hands. "Wait ... not to-night ... to-morrow ... some other day!" "Oh, I know what you are thinking about! You know where Tonet is to-night! But don't worry. You're right! Not to-night! Not to-night!
Though a wicked devil was lurking somewhere inside him; for every time that he said "lie," and the objects of the night said "lie," the word echoed within him as "Llanut, bruto, steer, bull, ox with horns!" "And, by God, if it is true ..." What he had said to Roseta that afternoon on the way home through the Grao, came into his mind.
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