"Is that true, Your Eminences?" Bustamente the Notary was taking no chances.
"It is true."
"And you have papers?"
"We have papers. Mine are in here. And yours, Major Blanco?"
The Notary adjusted his glasses, turned to the papers while the shepherd's wife held a candle over them. "Ay," he said. "They look real. Yes, I must admit they look real. On the other hand, I must also admit that I have never seen real Cuban papers." This was indeed a problem for the Notary. He scratched his chin, importantly, cleared his throat with a rumbling hawk. "What do you think, Juan Antonio?"
"I am without letters," the shepherd said.
"I must admit," the Notary said, not without sadness, "I must admit that I have never seen real papers of our own army."
"Please," Segador said, "it is important that we get to San Hermano. Is there anyone in this village who is not for the landowners or the mine owners or the Germans who has seen real papers? I ask this in the name of Don Anibal Tabio, in whose name we undertook our mission."
"Justice will be done," said Bustamente the Notary. "This is the era of justice, my good friends." He tried to punctuate his pronouncement with Tabio's famous gesture. To do this he had to release his waistband, and his trousers started to fall to his knees. From the pallet came a choking snicker.
"Silence!" Juan Antonio hissed to the kids on the dark pallet. "Show respect for Bustamente the Notary." His wife, at the same time, restored the Notary's dignity by handing him a length of cord to use as a belt. He fixed his trousers and then made the moment truly solemn by putting on his jacket.