“Do you live here?”
“Over in El Corral.”
El Corral was one of the patios of the hostelry, and opened upon that pestilential Rastro which extends from La Ronda to the gashouse. El Aristón was as full of necromania as ever. He spoke to Manuel only of deaths, burials and funereal matters.
He told Manuel that on Sundays he visited burial grounds; for he considered it a duty to fulfil that merciful work which bids one to bury the dead.
During the course of the conversation the necromaniac insinuated the notion that if the king were to die they could make a wonderful interment; but despite this, he imagined that the burial of the Pope would be even more sumptuous.
The necromaniac and Manuel passed through several corridors.
“Where are you taking me?” asked Manuel.
“If you want to come, you can see a corpse.”
“And what are you going to do with this corpse?”
“I’m going to watch over him and pray for him,” replied El Aristón.