“What did Don Crisóstomo promise you for attacking the convent?”
“I have never had any communication with Don Crisóstomo.”
“Don’t attempt to deny it: what other reason had you for joining the conspiracy?”
“You had killed our father, we wished to avenge him, nothing more. Go find two of your guards. They’re at the foot of the precipice, where we threw them. You may kill me now, you will learn nothing more.”
There was silence and general surprise.
“You will name your accomplices,” cried the alférez, brandishing his cane.
The accused man smiled disdainfully. The alférez talked apart with the curate.
“Take him where the bodies are,” he ordered.
In a corner of the patio, on an old cart, five bodies were heaped under a piece of soiled matting.
“Do you know them?” asked the alférez, lifting the covering. Társilo did not reply. He saw the body of Sisa’s husband, and that of his brother, pierced through with bayonet strokes. His face grew darker, and a great sigh escaped him; but he was mute.