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Updated: June 26, 2025
At the summer gatherings on the pòrchu of the farmhouse, or at the Sunday dances, Margalida, blushing, urged on by her companions, would sometimes take a seat in the center of the circle, and, the tambourine on her knee, her eyes hidden behind a kerchief, would reply with a long romance of her own invention to the rhymes of the troubadour.
Besides, hope, which, never forsakes us, conceived in his mind the vague possibility of something extraordinary that would present itself in its own good time, to save him from this situation; but while it was on its way, how the loneliness bored him! Margalida had not been to the tower for some time. She had changed; she seemed to have suddenly awakened to a new existence.
She arranged the disordered covers of his couch, she gave him to drink, and she raised his head to smooth his pillows. When Febrer tried to speak she raised her index finger to impose silence. Once the wounded man grasped her hand as she passed and pressed it against his lips, caressing it with a prolonged kiss. Margalida dared not draw it away.
They must reach Can Mallorquí in time to prepare an early supper for the family before the suitors should arrive. Febrer was admiring her with his serious eyes. He marveled now at the stupidity which had caused him to think of Margalida for all these months as a child, as an undeveloped creature, without realizing her graces.
Jaime glanced behind him, as if his eyes would seek in the interior of the house the sweet figure of Margalida. Then he thought over all his old anxieties and all the new truths to which he had awakened, repeating the same vigorous declaration: "Let us kill the dead!" Pablo's voice aroused him from his reflections.
He became enthusiastic thinking about the young men who were to gather at his house twice a week to make love to Margalida. They were coming even from as far away as San Juan, the other end of the island, the region of valiant men, where one avoided going out of the house after dark, well knowing that every hillock held a pistol and every tree was a lurking place for a firearm.
Two days later, when Don Jaime was awaiting his dinner in the tower, having returned from a fishing excursion, Pèp presented himself and deposited the basket upon the table with an air of solemnity. The rustic tried to make excuse for this extraordinary visit. His wife and Margalida had gone to the hermitage of the Cubells again, and the boy had accompanied them.
They wished to speak of the "festeig" of Margalida; they reminded the father of his promise to sanction the courting of the girl. The peasant-farmer looked at the group deliberately, as if counting their number. "How many are you?" The leader smiled. There were many more. They represented other young men who had remained to hear the song. There were youths from every district.
He took down his gun, examined the action, slung it over his shoulder and descended from the tower, taking the same road as on the previous afternoon. As he passed Can Mallorquí the barking of the dog brought Margalida and her mother to the door. The men were in a distant field which Pèp was cultivating. The mother, tearful, and with her words broken by sobs, could only grasp the señor's hands.
When his turn came he placed himself near Margalida, tuned his instrument and began to intone songs of the mainland learned during his retirement at "Niza"; but before beginning he had taken from his girdle a double-barreled pistol, cocked it, and had laid it upon one of his thighs, ready to grasp it and to let fly a shot at the first man to interrupt him. Absolute silence and impassive glances!
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