“Nay. Lift it,” Pilar told her and put her big hands under the girl’s head and raised it. “And thou, ‘Inglés?'” she said, still holding the girl’s head as she looked across at the mountains. “What cat has eaten thy tongue?”
“No cat,” Robert Jordan said.
“What animal then?” She laid the girl’s head down on the ground.
“No animal,” Robert Jordan told her.
“You swallowed it yourself, eh?”
“I guess so,” Robert Jordan said.
“And did you like the taste?” Pilar turned now and grinned at him.
“Not much.”
“I thought not,” Pilar said. “I ‘thought’ not. But I give you back our rabbit. Nor ever did I try to take your rabbit. That’s a good name for her. I heard you call her that this morning.”
Robert Jordan felt his face redden.
“You are a very hard woman,” he told her.
“No,” Pilar said. “But so simple I am very complicated. Are you very complicated, ‘Inglés?'”
“No. Nor not so simple.”
“You please me, ‘Inglés’,” Pilar said. Then she smiled and leaned forward and smiled and shook her head. “Now if I could take the rabbit from thee and take thee from the rabbit.”
“You could not.”
“I know it,” Pilar said and smiled again. “Nor would I wish to. But when I was young I could have.”
“I believe it.”
“You believe it?”
“Surely,” Robert Jordan said. “But such talk is nonsense.”
“It is not like thee,” Maria said.
“I am not much like myself today,” Pilar said. “Very little like myself. Thy bridge has given me a headache, ‘Inglés’.”
“We can tell it the Headache Bridge,” Robert Jordan said. “But I will drop it in that gorge like a broken bird cage.”
“Good,” said Pilar. “Keep on talking like that.”
“I’ll drop it as you break a banana from which you have removed the skin.”
“I could eat a banana now,” said Pilar. “Go on, ‘Inglés’. Keep on talking largely.”
“There is no need,” Robert Jordan said. “Let us get to camp.”
“Thy duty,” Pilar said. “It will come quickly enough. I said that I would leave the two of you.”
“No. I have much to do.”
“That is much too and does not take long.”
“Shut thy mouth, Pilar,” Maria said. “You speak grossly.”
“I am gross,” Pilar said. “But I am also very delicate. ‘Soy muy delicada’. I will leave the two of you. And the talk of jealousness is nonsense. I was angry at Joaquín because I saw from his look how ugly I am. I am only jealous that you are nineteen. It is not a jealousy which lasts. You will not be nineteen always. Now I go.”
She stood up and with a hand on one hip looked at Robert Jordan, who was also standing. Maria sat on the ground under the tree, her head dropped forward.
“Let us all go to camp together,” Robert Jordan said. “It is better and there is much to do.”
Pilar nodded with her head toward Maria, who sat there, her head turned away from them, saying nothing.
Pilar smiled and shrugged her shoulders almost imperceptibly and said, “You know the way?”
“I know it,” Maria said, not raising her head.
“‘Pues me voy’,” Pilar said. “Then I am going. We’ll have something hearty for you to eat, ‘Inglés’.”
She started to walk off into the heather of the meadow toward the stream that led down through it toward the camp.
“Wait,” Robert Jordan called to her. “It is better that we should all go together.”
Maria sat there and said nothing.
Pilar did not turn.
“‘Qué va’, go together,” she said. “I will see thee at the camp.”
Robert Jordan stood there.
“Is she all right?” he asked Maria. “She looked ill before.”
“Let her go,” Maria said, her head still down.
“I think I should go with her.”
“Let her go,” said Maria. “Let her go!”
13
They were walking through the heather of the mountain meadow and Robert Jordan felt the brushing of the heather against his legs, felt the weight of his pistol in its holster against his thigh, felt the sun on his head, felt the breeze from the snow of the mountain peaks cool on his back and, in his hand, he felt the girl’s hand firm and strong, the fingers locked in his.
From it, from the palm of her hand against the palm of his, from their fingers locked together, and from her wrist across his wrist something came from her hand, her fingers and her wrist to his that was as fresh as the first light air that moving toward you over the sea barely wrinkles the glassy surface of a calm, as light as a feather moved across one’s lip, or a leaf falling when there is no breeze; so light that it could be felt with the touch of their fingers alone, but that was so strengthened, so intensified, and made so urgent, so aching and so strong by the hard pressure of their fingers and the close pressed palm and wrist, that it was as though a current moved up his arm and filled his whole body with an aching hollowness of wanting. With the sun shining on her hair, tawny as wheat, and on her gold-brown smooth-lovely face and on the curve of her throat he bent her head back and held her to him and kissed her.
He felt her trembling as he kissed her and he held the length of her body tight to him and felt her breasts against his chest through the two khaki shirts, he felt them small and firm and he reached and undid the buttons on her shirt and bent and kissed her and she stood shivering, holding her head back, his arm behind her. Then she dropped her chin to his head and then he felt her hands holding his head and rocking it against her. He straightened and with his two arms around her held her so tightly that she was lifted off the ground, tight against him, and he felt her trembling and then her lips were on his throat, and then he put her down and said, “Maria, oh, my Maria.”
Then he said, “Where should we go?”
She did not say anything but slipped her hand inside of his shirt and he felt her undoing the shirt buttons and she said, “You, too. I want to kiss, too.”
“No, little rabbit.”
“Yes. Yes. Everything as you.”
“Nay. That is an impossibility.”
“Well, then. Oh, then. Oh, then. Oh.”
Then there was the smell of heather crushed and the roughness of the bent stalks under her head and the sun bright on her closed eyes and all his life he would remember the curve of her throat with her head pushed back into the heather roots and her lips that moved smally and by themselves and the fluttering of the lashes on the eyes tight closed against the sun and against everything, and for her everything was red, orange, gold-red from the sun on the closed eyes, and it all was that color, all of it, the filling, the possessing, the having, all of that color, all in a blindness of that color.
For him it was a dark passage which led to nowhere, then to nowhere, then again to nowhere, once again to nowhere, always and forever to nowhere, heavy on the elbows in the earth to nowhere, dark, never any end to nowhere, hung on all time always to unknowing nowhere, this time and again for always to nowhere, now not to be borne once again always and to nowhere, now beyond all bearing up, up, up and into nowhere, suddenly, scaldingly, holdingly all nowhere gone and time absolutely still and they were both there, time having stopped and he felt the earth move out and away from under them.
Then he was lying on his side, his head deep in the heather, smelling it and the smell of the roots and the earth and the sun came through it and it was scratchy on his bare shoulders and along his flanks and the girl was lying opposite him with her eyes still shut and then she opened them and smiled at him and he said very tiredly and from a great but friendly distance, “Hello, rabbit.” And she smiled and from no distance said, “Hello, my ‘Inglés’.”
“I’m not an ‘Inglés’,” he said very lazily.
“Oh yes, you are,” she said. “You’re my ‘Inglés’,” and reached and took hold of both his ears and kissed him on the forehead.
“There,” she said. “How is that? Do I kiss thee better?”
Then they were walking along the stream together and he said, “Maria, I love thee and thou art so lovely and so wonderful and so beautiful and it does such things to me to be with thee that I feel as though I wanted to die when I am loving thee.”
“Oh,” she said. “I die each time. Do you not die?”
“No. Almost. But did thee feel the earth move?”
“Yes. As I died. Put thy arm around me, please.”
“No. I have thy hand. Thy hand is enough.”
He looked at her and across the meadow where a hawk was hunting and the big afternoon clouds were coming now over the mountains.
“And it is not thus for thee with others?” Maria asked him, they now walking hand in hand.
“No. Truly.”
“Thou hast loved many others.”
“Some. But not as thee.”
“And it was not thus? Truly?”
“It was a pleasure but it was not thus.”
“And then the earth moved. The earth never moved before?”
“Nay. Truly never.”
“Ay,” she said. “And this we have for one day.”
He said nothing.
“But we have had it now at least,” Maria said. “And do you like me too? Do I please thee? I will look better later.”
“Thou art very beautiful now.”
“Nay,” she said.
