the camisa and the pantaloons. He noted that
they were full of dust and recently torn in some places. But what most
attracted his attention were the "stick-tights" [22] on his clothing,
even up to his neck.

"What do you see?" asked the officer.

"I was trying to identify him, senor," stammered the peasant, lowering
his hat further from his uncovered head.

"But haven't you heard that it was one Lucas? Were you sleeping?"

All began to laugh. The peasant, embarrassed, muttered a few words,
and went away with head down, walking slowly.

"Here! Where are you going?" cried the old man. "You can't get out
that way. That's the way to the dead man's house."

"That fellow is still asleep," said the officer with a jeer. "We'll
have to throw some water on him!"

Those standing around laughed again.

The peasant left the place where he had played so poor a part and
directed his steps toward the church. In the sacristy, he asked for
the sacristan mayor.

"He is still sleeping!" they replied gruffly. "Don't you know that
they sacked the convent last night?"

"I will wait till he awakes."

The sacristans looked at him with that rudeness characteristic of
people who are in the habit of being ill-treated.

In a dark corner, the one-eyed sacristan mayor was sleeping in a
large chair. His spectacles were across his forehead among his long
locks of hair. His squalid, bony breast was bare, and rose and fell
with regularity.

The peasant sat down near by, disposed to wait patiently, but a
coin fell on the floor and he began looking for it with the aid of a
candle, under the sacristan mayor's big chair. The peasant also noted
"stick-tights" on the sleeping man's pantaloons and on the arms of
his camisa. The sacristan awoke at last, rubbed his good eye, and,
in a very bad humor, reproached the man.

"I would like to order a mass said, senor," replied he in a tone
of excuse.

"They have already finished all the masses," said the one-eyed man,
softening his accent a little. "If you want it for to-morrow.... Is
it for souls in Purgatory?"

"No, senor;" replied the peasant, giving him a peso.

And looking fixedly in his one eye, he added:

"It is for a person who is going to die soon." And he left the
sacristy. "I could have seized him last night," he added, sighingly
as he removed the plaster from his neck. And he straightened up and
regained the stature and appearance of Elias.

CHAPTER XXXVII

VAE VICTIS!