The two men, with a vague consciousness of some contretemps, dropped a pace behind, and began to talk to each other, leaving the sisters to exchange a few words in a low tone as they slowly returned to the house.
Meanwhile, Pereo's tall figure had disappeared in the shrubbery, to emerge again in the open area by the summer-house and the old pear-tree.

The red sparks of two or three cigarettes in the shadow of the summer-house, and the crouching forms of two shawled women came forward to greet him.
"And what hast thou heard, Pereo ?" said one of the women.
"Nothing," said Pereo, impatiently.

"I told thee I would answer for this little primogenita with my life.

She is but leading this Frenchman a dance, as she has led the others, and the Dona Amita and her Raymond are but wax in her hands.

Besides, I have spoken with the little 'Ruja to-day, and spoke my mind, Pepita, and she says there is nothing." "And whilst thou wert speaking to her, my poor Pereo, the devil of an American Doctor was speaking to her mother, thy mistress--our mistress, Pereo! Wouldst thou know what he said?
Oh, it was nothing." "Now, the curse of Koorotora on thee, Pepita!" said Pereo, excitedly.
"Speak, fool, if thou knowest anything!" "Of a verity, no.