it seems here! Except for the drum. Perhaps it is the drum that makes it seem so still. Though I always think the lake makes a sort of silence.”
“Ah, the drum!” cried Doña Carlota, lifting her hand with a gesture of nervous, spent exasperation. “I cannot hear it. No, I cannot, I cannot bear to hear it.”
And she rocked herself in a sudden access of agitation.
“It does hit one rather below the belt,” said Kate. “What is it?”
“Ah, do not ask me! It is my husband.”
She made a gesture of despair, and rocked herself almost into unconsciousness.
“Is Don Ramón drumming?”
“Drumming?” Doña Carlota seemed to start. “No! Oh no! He is not drumming, himself. He brought down two Indians from the north to do that.”
“Did he!” said Kate, non-committal.
But Doña Carlota was rocking in a sort of semi-consciousness.