In the atmosphere, a languorous odor of sulfur of the sort that floats in the air over town squares in the wake of public celebrations. The witnesses, behaving in accordance with the dictates of their individual temperaments. Pepa, unable to speak or flee, wanting to do both. Another woman sobbing and covering her face with the edge of her petticoat.

Santa, who has unconsciously moved to Hipólito's side, stands there holding his hand. The eyebrows of the blind man twitch spasmodically. Jenaro's face appears briefly at the door to the courtyard, then disappears.

At first, no one speaks, stupefied in the presence of the irreparable. When death enters the scene, it brings a hush to everything.

Then comes indignation, as everyone looks righteously at the killer, and the dead man's friend throws himself on the fallen body. Once and again and again, he places the palms of his hands over the still heart, and despite feeling that it no longer beats, he lowers his bloodless face over the fallen man's and speaks in his ear, stubbornly hoping for an answer:

“Benito! Benito …”

After waiting an instant or two, he looks up at the killer and says to him slowly:

“Why did you kill him?”

The killer lets go of the revolver, which falls to the floor with a heavy thump, and the police, called by Jenaro and Eufrasia, finally enter the parlor.

The yellow light of the oil lamps goes to kiss the face of the unfortunate victim, melancholically, reverently …

Eight

The courtroom, in both the gallery with seating for the public and the narrow section reserved for the press, was totally packed. Around the doors leading outside and to the jury room clustered curious onlookers happy to endure uncomfortable postures, sharp elbows, chilly drafts, all sorts of pushing and shoving, and the foul-smelling heat of so many compressed bodies, just in order to have a view. Quite a crowd, indeed!

Outside, the overflow milled around or sat along the edge of the courtyard turning their eyes and ears toward the courtroom inside. Police stood guard in front of the grill-covered windows of the main courtroom and the room where witnesses waited to testify, but that did not stop frustrated spectators in the courtyard from crowding around those windows as well. Outside the main courtroom, one could hear bits of the proceedings, such as stray statements from the witnesses, the fulminations of the attorneys for the prosecution and the defense, and portions of the official record occasionally read by the official court reporter in monotonous, nasal tones like those of a priest saying mass. At the window of the witness room, people gathered simply because they had read in the newspapers—which serve at least for this—that testimony would be taken at this trial in the austere Palace of Justice from each and every one of the occupants of Elvira's well-known brothel.