They stared steadily.

Veronica looked to the right and left and tried to smile, to show that she was pleased.

But the visible, jagged edges of their outward misery cut cruelly at her heart, for they were her people; nominally, by old feudal right, they were all her people, and her father's father had held right of justice and of life and death over them all; and in actual fact they were almost all her people, since they lived in her houses, worked on her lands, and ate a portion of her bread, though it was such a very little one as could barely keep them alive.
She tried to smile, and some of the girls held out their fingers towards her and then kissed them, as though they had touched her dress, as the old woman had done.

But the men stared stolidly from under the low brims of their battered hats.

Only the fever-struck shepherd smiled in a sickly way and lost his Sphinx-like look all at once.
A man in a white shirt came forward, leading Veronica's mare, all saddled for her to mount.
"The carriage cannot go through the streets," said Don Teodoro, in explanation.