In a corner of the yard, upon an old wagon, were five bodies close together and half covered by a filthy piece of torn matting. A soldier on guard was pacing up and down, and constantly spitting. "Do you recognize them?" asked the alferez, lifting the matting. Tarsilo did not respond. He saw the dead body of Pedro, with two others; one, his own brother, riddled with bayonet wounds, and the other, Lucas, with the rope still around his neck. His look became gloomy and a sigh seemed to escape from his breast. "Do you know them?" they asked him. Tarsilo remained silent. There was a whistling sound and the whip came down across his back. He trembled, and his muscles contracted. The lashes were repeated, but Tarsilo continued impassive. "Let them whip him till they cut him to pieces or till he makes a declaration," cried the alferez, exasperated. "Speak then!" said the directorcillo to him. "They will surely kill you." They led him back to the sala of the tribunal, where the other prisoner was invoking God, grating his teeth and shaking on his legs. "Do you know this man?" asked Father Salví. "This is the first time I have ever seen him," replied Tarsilo, looking with a certain pity on the other. The alferez gave him a cuff with his fist and kicked him. "Tie him to the bench!" Without taking off the bloody handcuffs, he was fastened to the wooden bench. The unhappy fellow looked about him as if in search of some one, and his eyes fell on Doña Consolacion. He smiled sardonically. Those present were surprised and followed his glance and saw the señora. She was biting her lips. "I have never seen an uglier woman," exclaimed Tarsilo amid the general silence. "I prefer to lie down on this bench as I am doing than to lie by her side, like the alferez." The Muse turned pale. "You are going to whip me to death, alferez," he continued, "but to-night I will be avenged by your woman." "Gag him!" shouted the alferez, furious and trembling with rage. It seemed as though Tarsilo had wanted the gag, for when he had it in his mouth, his eyes gleamed with a ray of satisfaction. At a signal from the alferez a guard, armed with a whip, began his cruel task. The whole body of Tarsilo shrank. A groan, suppressed and prolonged, could be heard in spite of the rag which stopped up his mouth. He lowered his head. His clothes were being stained with blood. Father Salví, pale and with a wild look, rose to his feet laboriously, made a sign with his hand and left the sala with vacillating steps. In the street, he saw a girl, leaning her back against the wall, rigid, immovable, listening attentively, looking into space, her marble-like hands extended along the old wall. The sun was shining full upon her. She was counting, it seemed without breathing, the sharp blows and listening to that heart-rending groan. She was Tarsilo's sister.