For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway Page A

thick.
    â€œAnd me,” the woman of Pablo said in her booming voice. “I am expected to watch all this? I am expected not to be moved?One cannot. For fault of anything better; that Pablo should come back.”
    Maria took no notice of her now, nor of the others playing cards at the table by the candlelight.
    â€œDo you want another cup of wine, Roberto?” she asked.
    â€œYes,” he said. “Why not?”
    â€œYou’re going to have a drunkard like I have,” the woman of Pablo said. “With that rare thing he drank in the cup and all. Listen to me, Inglés .”
    â€œNot Inglés. American.”
    â€œListen, then, American. Where do you plan to sleep?”
    â€œOutside. I have a sleeping robe.”
    â€œGood,” she said. “The night is clear?”
    â€œAnd will be cold.”
    â€œOutside then,” she said. “Sleep thee outside. And thy materials can sleep with me.”
    â€œGood,” said Robert Jordan.
    â€œLeave us for a moment,” Robert Jordan said to the girl and put his hand on her shoulder.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI wish to speak to Pilar.”
    â€œMust I go?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhat is it?” the woman of Pablo said when the girl had gone over to the mouth of the cave where she stood by the big wineskin, watching the card players.
    â€œThe gypsy said I should have—” he began.
    â€œNo,” the woman interrupted. “He is mistaken.”
    â€œIf it is necessary that I—” Robert Jordan said quietly but with difficulty.
    â€œThee would have done it, I believe,” the woman said. “Nay, it is not necessary. I was watching thee. But thy judgment was good.”
    â€œBut if it is needful—”
    â€œNo,” the woman said. “I tell you it is not needful. The mind of the gypsy is corrupt.”
    â€œBut in weakness a man can be a great danger.”
    â€œNo. Thou dost not understand. Out of this one has passed all capacity for danger.”
    â€œI do not understand.”
    â€œThou art very young still,” she said. “You will understand.” Then, to the girl, “Come, Maria. We are not talking more.”
    The girl came over and Robert Jordan reached his hand out and patted her head. She stroked under his hand like a kitten. Then he thought that she was going to cry. But her lips drew up again and she looked at him and smiled.
    â€œThee would do well to go to bed now,” the woman said to Robert Jordan. “Thou hast had a long journey.”
    â€œGood,” said Robert Jordan. “I will get my things.”

7
    He was asleep in the robe and he had been asleep, he thought, for a long time. The robe was spread on the forest floor in the lee of the rocks beyond the cave mouth and as he slept, he turned, and turning rolled on his pistol which was fastened by a lanyard to one wrist and had been by his side under the cover when he went to sleep, shoulder and back weary, leg-tired, his muscles pulled with tiredness so that the ground was soft, and simply stretching in the robe against the flannel lining was voluptuous with fatigue. Waking, he wondered where he was, knew, and then shifted the pistol from under his side and settled happily to stretch back into sleep, his hand on the pillow of his clothing that was bundled neatly around his rope-soled shoes. He had one arm around the pillow.
    Then he felt her hand on his shoulder and turned quickly, his right hand holding the pistol under the robe.
    â€œOh, it is thee,” he said and dropping the pistol he reached both arms up and pulled her down. With his arms around her he could feel her shivering.
    â€œGet in,” he said softly. “It is cold out there.”
    â€œNo. I must not.”
    â€œGet in,” he said. “And we can talk about it later.”
    She was trembling and he held her wrist now with one hand and held her lightly with the other arm. She had turned her head