She busied herself as she spoke, with some duties of a sick-nurse which had been postponed during his unconsciousness. "It is nearly six o'clock," she said, without appearing to look in his direction. "So you need not try to peep round the corner at the clock. Please do not manage things, Marcos. It is I who am manager of this affair. You and Uncle Ramon think that I am a child. I am not. I have grown up--in a night, like a mushroom, and Uncle Ramon has been sent to bed." She came and sat down at the bedside again. "And Cousin Peligros has not been disturbed. She has not left her room. She will tell us to-morrow morning that she scarcely slept at all. A real lady never sleeps well, you know. She must have heard us but she did not come out of her room. For which we may thank the Saints. There are some people one would rather not have in an emergency. In fact, when you come to think of it--how many are there in the world whose presence would be of the slightest use in a crisis--one or two at the most." She held up her finger to emphasise the smallness of this number, and withdrew it again, hastily. But she was not quick enough, for Marcos had seen the ring and his eyes suddenly brightened. She turned away towards the window, holding her lip between her teeth, as if she had committed an indiscretion. She had been talking against time slowly and continuously to prevent his talking or thinking, to give the apothecary's soothing drug time to take effect. For the little man of medicine had spoken very clearly of concussion and its after-effects. He had posted off to Pampeluna to fetch a doctor from there, leaving instructions that should Marcos recover his reason he should not be permitted to make use of it. And here in a moment, was Marcos fully in possession of his senses and making a use of them, which Juanita resented without knowing why. "I must see my father," he said, stirring the bedclothes, "before I go to sleep again." Juanita turned on her heel, but did not approach him or seek to rearrange the sheets. "Lie still," she said. "Why do you want to see him? Is it about the war?" "Yes." Juanita reflected for a moment. "Then you had better see him," she said conclusively. "I will go and fetch him." She went to the window and passed out on to the balcony. Sarrion had, in obedience to her wishes, gone to his room. He was now sitting on a long chair on the balcony, apparently watching the dawn. "Of what are you thinking as you sit there watching the new light in the mountains?" she asked gaily. He looked at her with a softness in the eyes which usually expressed a tolerant cynicism. "Of you," he answered. "I heard the murmur of your voices. You need not tell me that he has recovered consciousness." "He wants to see you," she said. "I think he was surprised not to see you--to see only me--when he regained his senses." There was the faintest suspicion of resentment in her voice.