"Well, it's a question of District matters, you see," the old man
answered. "All I've been telling you boys, happened long before your
day, and your parents, who knew the Doctor and his daughter, have always
been careful not to bring this woman into their conversation; for, as
Rafael's mother says, she's the disgrace of Alcira. From time to time we
got a bit of news; something that Cupido fished out of the newspapers
and spread all over town, or something that that silly doña Pepa would
let drop, while telling inquisitive people about the glories her niece
was winning abroad; anyhow, all a heap of lies that were invented I
don't know where or by whom. They kept all that quiet, banking the fire,
so to speak. If it hadn't got into the girl's head to come back to
Alcira, you would never have heard of her probably. But now she's here,
and they're telling all they know, or think they know, about her life,
digging up tales of things that happened years and years ago. You take
my word for it, boys, I've always considered her a high-flyer myself,
but, just the same, people here do tell awful whoppers ... and swear to
them. She can't be as bad as they say ... If one were to swallow
everything one hears! Wasn't poor don Ramón the greatest man the
District ever produced? Well, what don't they say about him?..."

And the conversation drifted away from Doctor Moreno's daughter. Rafael
had learned all he wished to know. That woman had been born within a few
hundred yards of his own birthplace. They had passed their childhood
years almost side by side; and yet, on meeting for the first time in
their lives, they had felt themselves complete strangers to each other.

This separation would increase with time. She made fun of the city,
lived outside its circle of influence, in the open country; she would
not meet the town halfway, and the town would not go to her.