Batiste was amazed at this unjust denunciation. His pallor was that of indignation. He gazed with eyes full of fury at all the familiar mocking faces, which were pressing against the rail, and at his enemy Pimentó, who was strutting about proudly, like a man accustomed to appearing before the tribunal, and to whom a small part of its unquestionable authority belonged.
"Speak," said the eldest of the judges, putting one foot forward, for according to a century-old custom, the tribunal, instead of using the hands, signalled with the white sandal to him who should speak.
Pimentó poured forth his accusation. This man who was beside him, perhaps because he was new in the huerta, seemed to think that the apportionment of the water was a trifling matter, and that he could suit his own blessed will.
He, Pimentó, the atandador, who represented the authority of the canals in his district, had set for Batiste the hour for watering his wheat. It was two o'clock in the morning. But doubtless the señor, not wishing to arise at that hour, had let his turn go, and at five, when the water was intended for others, he had raised the flood-gate without permission from anybody (the first offence), and attempted to water his fields, resolving to oppose, by main force, the orders of the atandador, which constituted the third and last offence.
The thrice-guilty delinquent, turning all the colours of the rainbow, and indignant at the words of Pimentó, was not able to restrain himself.
"You lie, and lie doubly!"
The tribunal became indignant at the heat and the lack of respect with which this man was protesting.
If he did not keep silent he would be fined.
But what was a fine for the concentrated wrath of a peaceful man! He kept on protesting against the injustice of men, against the tribunal which had, as its servants, such rogues and liars as Pimentó.
The tribunal was stirred up; the seven judges became excited.