s a witness.

While this was taking place, a rustic in a wide salakot with a big
bandage on his neck was examining the corpse and the rope. The face
was not more livid than the rest of the body, two scratches and two
red spots were to be seen above the noose, the strands of the rope were
white and had no blood on them. The curious rustic carefully examined
the camisa and pantaloons, and noticed that they were very dusty and
freshly torn in some parts. But what most caught his attention were
the seeds of _amores-secos_ that were sticking on the camisa even up
to the collar.

"What are you looking at?" the directorcillo asked him. "I was looking,
sir, to see if I could recognize him," stammered the rustic, partly
uncovering, but in such a way that his salakot fell lower.

"But haven't you heard that it's a certain Lucas? Were you asleep?"

The crowd laughed, while the abashed rustic muttered a few words and
moved away slowly with his head down.

"Here, where you going?" cried the old man after him.

"That's not the way out. That's the way to the dead man's house."

"The fellow's still asleep," remarked the directorcillo
facetiously. "Better pour some water over him."

Amid the laughter of the bystanders the rustic left the place where
he had played such a ridiculous part and went toward the church. In
the sacristy he asked for the senior sacristan.

"He's still asleep," was the rough answer. "Don't you know that the
convento was assaulted last night?"

"Then I'll wait till he wakes up." This with a stupid stare at
the sacristans, such as is common to persons who are used to rough
treatment.

In a corner which was still in shadow the one-eyed senior sacristan
lay asleep in a big chair. His spectacles were placed on his forehead
amid long locks of hair, while his thin, squalid chest, which was bare,
rose and fell regularly.

The rustic took a seat near by, as if to wait patiently, but he dropped
a piece of money and started to look for it with the aid of a candle
under the senior sacristan's chair. He noticed seeds of _amores-secos_
on the pantaloons and on the cuffs of the sleeper's camisa. The latter
awoke, rubbed his one good eye, and began to scold the rustic with
great ill-humor.

"I wanted to order a mass, sir," was the reply in a tone of excuse.

"The masses are already over," said the sacristan, sweetening his
tone a little at this. "If you want it for tomorrow--is it for the
souls in purgatory?"