“You are before the Juez de la Primera Instancia,” said the man in black beside the table. He wore a large and shadowy tricorn. “Be silent, and respect the procedure.”
It was, without doubt, excellent advice. He whispered some words in the ear of the Judge of the First Instance. It was plain enough to me that the judge was quite an inferior official, who merely decided whether there was any case against the accused; he had, even to his clerk, an air of timidity, of doubt.
I said: “But I insist on knowing....”
The clerk said: “In good time....” And then, in the same tone of disinterested official routine, he spoke to the Lugareño, who, from beside the door, rolled very frightened eyes from the judges and the clerk to myself and the soldiers—“Advance.”
The judge, in a hurried, perfunctory voice, put questions to the Lugareño; the clerk scratched with a large quill on a sheet of paper.
“Where do you come from?”
“The town of Rio Medio, excellency.”
“Of what occupation?”
“Excellency—a few goats....”
“Why are you here?”