Therefore, the much-anticipated parade of prostitutes worked wonders as the priests of Temis, god of justice, welcomed the priestesses of Venus, goddess of love. The tedium, the drowsiness, the stiffness of tired joints evaporated as the entire courtroom turned with utter unanimity toward the witness stand. One or two nearsighted spectators could be observed wiping their eyeglasses hurriedly with handkerchiefs or jacket linings. Many noses sniffed like those of bloodhounds on the trail, delighting in the smell of the girls, a delicate mixture of expensive perfume, well-washed flesh, and the very slightest hint of perspiration.

Each new witness further warmed the collective spirit and undermined the professional seriousness of the scene. Faces accustomed to maintain an official frown relaxed and opened up. Jurors elbowed their neighbors and winked at others father away, and the judge, his face notably red, fidgeted uncontrollably in his chair. The public prosecutor—a furious positivist, a reader of Brocca, Ribot, and Lombroso, a paragon of modern criminology—leaned on the railing in front of the witnesses and studied them carefully with the benevolent smile of a wise scientist examining specimens of insect life. It was whispered in the room that the prosecutor possessed a much greater familiarity with such specimens than he was likely to admit, that he was a regular in the city's houses of ill repute, where he perhaps went to gain deeper insights into certain processes of inevitable degeneration and decline.

Santa, so accustomed to awaken and provoke the carnal appetite of men, did nothing on this occasion to elicit such a reaction, not even taking the same care as the other girls to show off her charms, which more than one of the spectators had actually tasted. She simply replied to what she was asked about, what she had seen and heard, the whole truth that Hipólito had urged her to tell. She wanted, above all, for them to let her leave as soon as possible, suspecting, because of the chill that had shaken her so, that she might be seriously ill despite her apparent good health, like an oak tree that loses its leaves too easily in a cold wind.

Indeed, Santa's testimony threatened to be so brief, so contrary to the collective wish of the courtroom to ogle her, that one of the defense attorneys was forced to cross-examine her. He addressed his petition to the judge in the appropriate legalese:

“May it please Your Honor, the defense would like to direct a few questions to this witness.”

General noises of approval greeting the request of the defense attorney, who rose to face Santa:

“You said that you thought the two men had reconciled their differences when you saw them conversing calmly, isn't that correct? … What did they say to each other? Repeat their exact words!”

Santa did not remember the words, nor did she really know anything about the relationship between the two.

The defense attorney, in with a purely professional reflex, challenged her veracity. Santa listened with knitted eyebrows as he twisted her earlier testimony: