"But you can't deny that he was a good boy when he was a child." "Yes, he was a good child," replied the old woman, "but he went to Spain. All those who go to Spain return heretics, so the curates say." "Oh!" exclaimed the husband, seeing his revenge. "And the curate, and all the curates, and the Archbishops, and the Pope, and the Virgin--are they not Spaniards? Bah! Are they heretics, too? Bah!" Happily for Sister Puté, the arrival of a servant, who rushed in confused and pale, cut off the discussion. "A man hanged in a neighboring orchard!" she exclaimed breathless. "A man hanged!" exclaimed all, full of amazement. The women crossed themselves. No one could stir. "Yes, Señor," continued the servant, trembling. "I was going to gather some peas in.... I looked into the orchard next door ... to see if there ... I saw a man swinging.... I thought it was Teo ... I went nearer to gather peas, and I saw that it was not he but it was another, and was dead ... I ran, ran and...." "Let us go and see it," said the old man, rising. "Take us there." "Don't go!" cried Sister Puté, seizing him by the shirt. "You'll get into trouble! He has hanged himself? Then all the worse for him!" "Let me see it, wife! Go to the tribunal, Juan, and report it. Perhaps he is not dead yet." And he went ino[typo, should be into?] the orchard, followed by the servant, who kept hid behind him. The women and Sister Puté herself came along behind, full of terror and curiosity. "There it is, Señor," said the servant stopping him and pointing with her finger. The group stopped at a respectful distance, allowing the old man to advance alone. The body of a man, hanging from the limb of a santol tree, was swinging slowly in the breeze. The old man contemplated it for some time. He looked at the rigid feet, the arms, the stained clothing and the drooping head. "We ought not to touch the corpse until some official has arrived," said he, in a loud voice. "He is already stiff. He has been dead for some time." The women approached hesitatingly. "It is the neighbor who lived in that little house; the one who arrived only two weeks ago. Look at the scar on his face." "Ave Maria!" exclaimed some of the women. "Shall we pray for his soul?" asked a young girl as soon as she had finished looking at the dead body from all directions. "You fool! You heretic!" Sister Puté scolded her. "Don't you know what Father Dámaso said? To pray for a damned person is to tempt God. He who commits suicide is irrevocably condemned. For this reason, he cannot be buried in a sacred place. I had begun to think that this man was going to have a bad ending. I never could guess what he lived on." "I saw him twice speaking with the sacristan mayor," observed a girl. "It couldn't have been to confess himself or to order a mass!"