In the midst of the hurly-burly, Desire sat bending over the task of
which her unused fingers made slow work, replying now and then with
little forced smiles to Submit's good natured efforts to entertain
her, and paying no attention to the hilarious confusion around. She
looked for all the world to Perez like a captive queen among rude
barbarian conquerors, owing to her very humiliation, a certain
touching dignity. It repented him that he had been the means of
bringing her to the place. He could not even take any pleasure in
looking at her, because he was so angry to see the coarse stares of
admiration which the bumpkins around fixed on her. Paul Hubbard, who
sat opposite him had been particularly free with his eyes in that
direction, and all the more so after he perceived the discomfort it
occasioned Perez, toward whom since their collision concerning the
disposition to be made of the prisoners, he had cherished a bitter
animosity. The last husks were being stripped off, and Sim was already
tuning his fiddle, when Hubbard sprang to his feet with a red ear in
his hand. He threw a mocking glance toward Perez, and advanced behind
the row of huskers toward Desire. Bending over her lap, with downcast
face, she did not observe him till he laid his hand on the rich
kerchief of India silk that covered her shoulders.
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