"Why are you trembling like this?
From love ?" she continued, while the cavernous thundering of the gombo went on without a pause.

"But if you love her as much as that, you must give your Paquita a gold-mounted rosary of beads for the neck of her Madonna." "No," said Nostromo, looking into her uplifted, begging eyes, which suddenly turned stony with surprise.
"No?
Then what else will your worship give me on the day of the fiesta ?" she asked, angrily; "so as not to shame me before all these people." "There is no shame for thee in getting nothing from thy lover for once." "True! The shame is your worship's--my poor lover's," she flared up, sarcastically.
Laughs were heard at her anger, at her retort.

What an audacious spitfire she was! The people aware of this scene were calling out urgently to others in the crowd.

The circle round the silver-grey mare narrowed slowly.
The girl went off a pace or two, confronting the mocking curiosity of the eyes, then flung back to the stirrup, tiptoeing, her enraged face turned up to Nostromo with a pair of blazing eyes.

He bent low to her in the saddle.
"Juan," she hissed, "I could stab thee to the heart!" The dreaded Capataz de Cargadores, magnificent and carelessly public in his amours, flung his arm round her neck and kissed her spluttering lips.