Just as the old man was leaving the cemetery, a carriage stopped at the entrance. It looked as though it had made a long journey; the horses were sweating and the vehicle was covered with dust. Ibarra stepped out and was followed by an old servant. He made a gesture to the driver and then turned down the path into the cemetery. He was silent and grave.  
“My sickness and my work have not permitted me to return, since the day of the funeral,” said the old servant timidly. “Captain Tiago said that he would see to it that a niche was arranged for, but I planted some flowers on the grave and erected a cross made by my own hands.”
 
Ibarra did not reply.
 
“Right there behind that large cross, se?or,” continued the servant, making a gesture toward one of the corners just as they passed through the gate.
 
Ibarra was so preoccupied with sad thoughts that he did not notice the astonishment which some of the people in the cemetery manifested when they saw him enter. Those who were kneeling broke off their prayers and followed the young man, their eyes full of curiosity.
 
Ibarra walked along very carefully, and avoided stepping on the graves, which could be easily distinguished by the sunken ground. In other times he had walked over them; but to-day he respected them. His father lay in one of them. On coming to the other side of the large cross, he stopped and looked in all directions. His companion was confused and out of countenance. He searched for marks on the ground but could not find the cross anywhere.
 
“Is it here?” he murmured between his teeth. “No, it is over there, but the earth has been removed.” [48]
 
Ibarra looked at him with an expression of anguish.
 
“Yes,” he continued. “I remember that there was a stone by the side of the grave. The grave was a little short, a farm hand had to dig it, as the grave-digger was sick at the time, but we will ask him what he has done with the cross.”
 
They turned toward the grave-digger, who looked at them with curiosity. He saluted them, taking off his hat.
 
“Can you tell us which of the graves over there is the one which had a cross?” asked the servant.
 
The grave-digger looked toward the place and seemed to reflect. “A large cross?”
 
“Yes, a large cross,” answered the old man with joy, looking significantly at Ibarra, whose face was somewhat animated.
 
“An ornamented cross, and fastened with reeds?” repeated the grave-digger, questioning the servant.
 
“That’s it, that’s it, yes, yes! Like this, like this,” and the servant traced an outline of a Byzantine cross.
 
“And were there some flowers sown on the grave?”
 
“Adelphas, sampagas and pansies! That’s it,” added the servant, delighted, and offering the grave-digger a cigar. “Tell us where the grave is and where the cross.”
 
The grave-digger scratched his ear and replied, yawning: “Well, the cross—I have already burned it up.”
 
“Burned it? and why have you burned it?”
 
“Because the head priest so ordered.”
 
“Who is the head priest?” asked Ibarra.
 
“Who? The one who does the whipping.”
 
Ibarra put his hand to his head.
 
“But you can at least tell us where the grave is? You ought to remember.”
 
The grave-digger smiled. “The body is no longer there,” he replied tranquilly.
 
“What do you say?”
 
“Yes, no longer,” the man added in a joking tone. “Only a week ago I buried a woman in its place.”
 
“Are you crazy?” the servant asked. “Why, it is not yet a year since we buried him.” [49]
 
“Then that is the one, for ............