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Chapter 7

           Iwasreadytosleep,butwhenIgotasfarastheCasaGouldIfoundthepatiofullofwoundedlaidoutonstraw.Lightswereburning,andinthatenclosedcourtyardonthathotnightafaintodourofchloroformandbloodhungabout.AtoneendDoctorMonygham,thedoctorofthemine,wasdressingthewounds;attheother,nearthestairs,FatherCorbelan,kneeling,listenedtotheconfessionofadyingCargador.Mrs.Gouldwaswalkingaboutthroughtheseshambleswithalargebottleinonehandandalotofcottonwoolintheother.Shejustlookedatmeandneverevenwinked.Hercameristawasfollowingher,alsoholdingabottle,andsobbinggentlytoherself.

           “Ibusiedmyselfforsometimeinfetchingwaterfromthecisternforthewounded.AfterwardsIwanderedupstairs,meetingsomeofthefirstladiesofSulaco,palerthanIhadeverseenthembefore,withbandagesovertheirarms.Notallofthemhadfledtotheships.AgoodmanyhadtakenrefugeforthedayintheCasaGould.Onthelandingagirl,withherhairhalfdown,waskneelingagainstthewallunderthenichewherestandsaMadonnainbluerobesandagiltcrownonherhead.IthinkitwastheeldestMissLopez;Icouldn’tseeherface,butIrememberlookingatthehighFrenchheelofherlittleshoe.Shedidnotmakeasound,shedidnotstir,shewasnotsobbing;sheremainedthere,perfectlystill,allblackagainstthewhitewall,asilentfigureofpassionatepiety.Iamsureshewasnomorefrightenedthantheotherwhite-facedladiesImetcarryingbandages.

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