"I will not touch thee.
Tell me now of thy own volition."
"_De tu propia voluntad_," the words were in Spanish.
The girl shook her head.
"Maria," Pilar said.
"Now and of thy own volition.
You hear me?
Anything at all."
"No," the girl said softly.
"No and no."
"Now you will tell me," Pilar told her.
"Anything at all.
You will see.
Now you will tell me."
"The earth moved," Maria said, not looking at the woman.
"Truly.
It was a thing I cannot tell thee."
"So," Pilar said and her voice was warm and friendly and there was no compulsion in it.
But Robert Jordan noticed there were small drops of perspiration on her forehead and her lips.
"So there was that.
So that was it."
"It is true," Maria said and bit her lip.
"Of course it is true," Pilar said kindly.
"But do not tell it to your own people for they never will believe you.
You have no _Cali_ blood, _Ingles?_"
She got to her feet, Robert Jordan helping her up.
"No," he said.
"Not that I know of."
"Nor has the Maria that she knows of," Pilar said. "_Pues es muy raro_.
It is very strange."
"But it happened, Pilar," Maria said.
"_Como que no, hija?_" Pilar said.
"Why not, daughter?
When I was young the earth moved so that you could feel it all shift in space and were afraid it would go out from under you.
It happened every night."
"You lie," Maria said.
"Yes," Pilar said.
"I lie.
It never moves more than three times in a lifetime.
Did it _really_ move?"
"Yes," the girl said.
"Truly."
"For you, _Ingles?_" Pilar looked at Robert Jordan.
"Don't lie."
"Yes," he said.
"Truly."
"Good," said Pilar.
"Good.
That is something."
"What do you mean about the three times?" Maria asked.