Ibarra looked at him with an expression of anguish.
“Yes,” he continued. “I remember that there was a stone by the side of the grave. The grave was a little short, a farm hand had to dig it, as the grave-digger was sick at the time, but we will ask him what he has done with the cross.”
They turned toward the grave-digger, who looked at them with curiosity. He saluted them, taking off his hat.
“Can you tell us which of the graves over there is the one which had a cross?” asked the servant.
The grave-digger looked toward the place and seemed to reflect. “A large cross?”
“Yes, a large cross,” answered the old man with joy, looking significantly at Ibarra, whose face was somewhat animated.
“An ornamented cross, and fastened with reeds?” repeated the grave-digger, questioning the servant.
“That’s it, that’s it, yes, yes! Like this, like this,” and the servant traced an outline of a Byzantine cross.
“And were there some flowers sown on the grave?”
“Adelphas, sampagas and pansies! That’s it,” added the servant, delighted, and offering the grave-digger a cigar. “Tell us where the grave is and where the cross.”