She looked at him and laughed, then slapped him on the knee.
"Of Pablo?
You have seen Pablo?"
"Well, then, of Rafael.
I have seen Rafael."
"Of Rafael neither."
"Of no one," the gypsy said.
"This is a very strange woman.
Is of no one.
But she cooks well."
"Really of no one?" Robert Jordan asked her.
"Of no one.
No one.
Neither in joke nor in seriousness.
Nor of thee either."
"No?" Robert Jordan said and he could feel the thickness coming in his throat again.
"Good.
I have no time for any woman. That is true."
"Not fifteen minutes?" the gypsy asked teasingly.
"Not a quarter of an hour?"
Robert Jordan did not answer.
He looked at the girl, Maria, and his throat felt too thick for him to trust himself to speak.
Maria looked at him and laughed, then blushed suddenly but kept on looking at him.
"You are blushing," Robert Jordan said to her.
"Do you blush much?"
"Never."
"You are blushing now."
"Then I will go into the cave."
"Stay here, Maria."
"No," she said and did not smile at him.
"I will go into the cave now."
She picked up the iron plate they had eaten from and the four forks.
She moved awkwardly as a colt moves, but with that same grace as of a young animal.
"Do you want the cups?" she asked.
Robert Jordan was still looking at her and she blushed again.
"Don't make me do that," she said.
"I do not like to do that."
"Leave them," they gypsy said to her.
"Here," he dipped into the stone bowl and handed the full cup to Robert Jordan who Watched the girl duck her head and go into the cave carrying the heavy iron dish.
"Thank you," Robert Jordan said.
His voice was all right again, now that she was gone.
"This is the last one.
We've had enough of this."
"We will finish the bowl," the gypsy said.
"There is over half a skin.
We packed it in on one of the horses."
"That was the last raid of Pablo," Anselmo said.
"Since then he has done nothing."
"How many are you?" Robert Jordan asked.
"We are seven and there are two women."