“Take care of my sister!” the unhappy one murmured, looking at the cuaderillero, with supplication.
The bamboo pole creaked again, and again the condemned man disappeared. Doña Consolacion observed that the water remained still. The alferez counted a minute.
When Tarsilo came up again, his face was livid and his features contracted. He glanced at those standing around and kept open his bloodshot eyes.
“Will you make a declaration?” asked the alferez again, with vexation.
Tarsilo shook his head and again they let him down. His eyelids were almost closed and his eyes were gazing at the white clouds floating in the heavens. He bent his neck to keep sight of the light of day, but he was soon submerged in the water. That filthy curtain closed from him the sight of the world.
A minute passed. The Muse saw large bubbles of air come up to the surface of the water.
“He is thirsty,” said she, laughing.
The water was again smooth.
This time a minute and a half had passed when the alferez gave the signal.
Tarsilo’s features were no longer contracted. The half opened lids showed the white of his eyes. Muddy water, clotted with blood, ran out of his mouth. The cool wind was blowing, but his body no longer shivered.