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"
‘
Qué
va
,
’
I
said
.
‘
Hast
thou
killed
?
’
"
‘
We
have
killed
four
,
’
he
said
,
proudly
.
‘
Not
counting
the
civiles
.
Is
it
true
that
thee
killed
one
of
the
civiles
,
Pilar
?
’
"
‘
Not
one
,
’
I
said
.
‘
I
shot
into
the
smoke
when
the
wall
fell
,
as
did
the
others
.
That
is
all
.
’
"
‘
Where
got
thee
the
pistol
,
Pilar
?
’
"
‘
From
Pablo
.
Pablo
gave
it
to
me
after
he
killed
the
civiles
.
’
"
‘
Killed
he
them
with
this
pistol
?
’
"
‘
With
no
other
,
’
I
said
.
‘
And
then
he
armed
me
with
it
.
’
"
‘
Can
I
see
it
,
Pilar
?
Can
I
hold
it
?
’
"
‘
Why
not
,
man
?
’
I
said
,
and
I
took
it
out
from
under
the
rope
and
handed
it
to
him
.
But
I
was
wondering
why
no
one
else
had
come
out
and
just
then
who
should
come
out
but
Don
Guillermo
Martín
from
whose
store
the
flails
,
the
herdsman
’
s
clubs
,
and
the
wooden
pitchforks
had
been
taken
.
Don
Guillermo
was
a
fascist
but
otherwise
there
was
nothing
against
him
.
"
It
is
true
he
paid
little
to
those
who
made
the
flails
but
he
charged
little
for
them
too
and
if
one
did
not
wish
to
buy
flails
from
Don
Guillermo
,
it
was
possible
to
make
them
for
nothing
more
than
the
cost
of
the
wood
and
the
leather
.
He
had
a
rude
way
of
speaking
and
he
was
undoubtedly
a
fascist
and
a
member
of
their
club
and
he
sat
at
noon
and
at
evening
in
the
cane
chairs
of
their
club
to
read
El
Debate
,
to
have
his
shoes
shined
,
and
to
drink
vermouth
and
seltzer
and
eat
roasted
almonds
,
dried
shrimps
,
and
anchovies
.
But
one
does
not
kill
for
that
,
and
I
am
sure
if
it
had
not
been
for
the
insults
of
Don
Ricardo
Montalvo
and
the
lamentable
spectacle
of
Don
Faustino
,
and
the
drinking
consequent
on
the
emotion
of
them
and
the
others
,
some
one
would
have
shouted
,
‘
That
Don
Guillermo
should
go
in
peace
.
We
have
his
flails
.
Let
him
go
.
’
