it be good?”
Ramón shook his head, laughing.
“There would be one good moment, at least,” he said.
“Who asks for more!” said Cipriano.
A spark flashed out of Ramón’s eyes too. Then he checked himself, and gathered himself together.
“What would be the good!” he said heavily. “If the egg was crushed, and we remained, what could we do but go howling down the empty passages of darkness. What’s the good, Cipriano?”
Ramón got up and walked away. The sun had set, the night was falling. And in his soul the great, writhing anger was alive again. Carlota provoked it into life: the two women seemed to breathe life into the black monster of his inward rage, till it began to lash again. And Cipriano stirred it up till it howled with desire.
“My manhood is like a demon howling inside me,” said Ramón to himself,