The crime, of course, naturally piqued the prurient interest of a hypocritical society that desires avidly to learn the most sordid and repugnant details of such affairs, the more sordid and repugnant the better. In fact, the more the mud gets stirred up, the more the witnesses describe indecent behavior explicitly, the more we taste the spectacle of a fellow being who has fallen into what we ourselves have avoided, the more we contemplate the poor devil's isolation and disgrace—why, the more we like it! The more we then hurry to the trial and fight for a good seat to hear all the juicy details. The more we then rejoice in being merely spectators when, in a different situation, we might have been actors in this courtroom drama. And at the hour of the verdict, when the bloodless lips of the judges and the gray pages of the legal codes rain a storm of imprecations—and many years in prison—on the heads of the delinquents, when we observe the righteous anger of those who maintain their innocence and copious tears of those who love the condemned, when we hear the death sentence and observe its impact on participants and onlookers—then a thrill of selfish satisfaction gives us gooseflesh and fills our hearts with relief because it did not happen to us. In the darkness that has been revealed in those poor, condemned souls, we have glimpsed the darkness that resides in our own, identical weaknesses, analogous perversions. But the condemned will suffer for it, and we will not. We will be free to withdraw at the conclusion of the drama, free to express our sympathy for the defendant and his fate!

At first, Santa and the other girls of the house regarded the matter lightheartedly, as a kind of farce, and the lawyers among Elvira's customers coached them on how they should behave in court and just what they should say on the witness stand. Why condemn the killer if it wasn't going to bring the dead man back to life? Hipólito, who was also to testify, disagreed. Perjury implied risks to the perjurers, and he thought it inhumane to absolve someone who had murdered inhumanely.

“Let's tell the whole truth, Santita, without playing favorites, what happened and what we saw … I mean, what you saw. Otherwise, that friend of the dead man's is likely to protest and get us in big trouble, and then who will we appeal to? You are about to leave Elvira's, so why get mixed up in this at all?”

That afternoon, when the whole crew was marched into the witness room and the doors closed, they initially remained silent and composed, as was to be expected. The Palace of Justice—with the presence of so many police, judges, and court officials—always makes a strong initial impression. The bolder members of the group rehearsed the upcoming situation for the more pusillanimous among them: “You just walk right in and look the judge in the eye and say …” Pepa smoked one cigar after another. Hipólito, for his part, tried not to appear too thrilled by this opportunity to spend so many hours at Santa's side, talking to her about whatever he wanted without having to fear the interruption of impatient customers or the other girls.