But he felt unable to shake off his gloom and annoyance,
and Madam Marx's attentions irritated him. He felt that her eyes
continually rested on him, that, however busy she might be, he was never
out of her thoughts. Every few minutes she would come toward him with a
bottle of wine and fill up his glass, saying, "Come, my friend; wine
is good and will drown your troubles." And though he resented her
patronage, knowing he could not pay, he nevertheless drank steadily.
Every few minutes he heard the sound of horses' hoofs on the hard
roadway, and through the windows he saw the military police pass slowly
on their rounds.
At last the strong drinks so amiably retailed by Madam Marx did their
work, and the men lay about the floor asleep and breathing heavily. The
silence succeeding the noise startled Gregorio from his sullen humour.
Madam Marx came and sat beside him, weary as she was with her long
labours, and talked volubly. The wine had mounted to his head, and he
answered her in rapid sentences, accompanying his words with gesture and
grimace. What he talked about he scarcely knew, but the woman laughed,
and he took an insane delight in hearing her.
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