An Eagle Flight Part 7

The grave-digger seemed surprised.

"Why? How do I know, I was ordered to."

"Who ordered you?"

At this question the grave-digger straightened himself, and examined the rash young man from head to foot.

"Come! come! You're curious as a Spaniard. A Spaniard asked me the same question, but in secret. I'm going to say to you what I said to him: the curate ordered it."

"Oh! and what did you do with the body?"

"The devil! if I didn't know you, I should take you for the police. The curate told me to bury it in the Chinese cemetery, but it's a long way there, and the body was heavy. 'Better be drowned,' I said to myself, 'than lie with the Chinese,' and I threw it into the lake."

"No, no, stop digging!" interrupted the younger man, with a cry of horror, and throwing down his spade he sprang out of the grave.

The grave-digger watched him run off signing himself, laughed, and went to work again.

The cemetery began to fill with men and women in mourning. Some of them came for a moment to the open grave, discussed some matter, seemed not to be agreed, and separated, kneeling here and there. Others were lighting candles; all began to pray devoutly. One heard sighing and sobs, and over all a confused murmur of "requiem aeternam."

A little old man, with piercing eyes, entered uncovered. At sight of him some laughed, others frowned. The old man seemed to take no account of this. He went to the heap of skulls, knelt, and searched with his eyes. Then with the greatest care he lifted the skulls one by one, wrinkling his brows, shaking his head, and looking on all sides. At length he rose and approached the grave-digger.

"Ho!" said he.

The other raised his eyes.

"Did you see a beautiful skull, white as the inside of a cocoanut?"

The grave-digger shrugged his shoulders.

"Look," said the old man, showing a piece of money; "it's all I have, but I'll give it to you if you find it."

The gleam of silver made the man reflect. He looked toward the heap and said:

"It isn't there? No? Then I don't know where it is."

"You don't know? When those who owe me pay, I'll give you more. 'Twas the skull of my wife, and if you find it----"

"It isn't there? Then I know nothing about it, but I can give you another."

"You are like the grave you dig," cried the old man, furious. "You know not the value of what you destroy! For whom is this grave?"

"How do I know? For a dead man!" replied the other with temper.

"Like the grave, like the grave," the old man repeated with a dry laugh. "You know neither what you cast out nor what you keep. Dig! dig!" And he went toward the gate.

Meanwhile the grave-digger had finished his task, and two mounds of fresh, reddish earth rose beside the grave. Drawing from his pocket some buyo, he regarded dully what was going on around him, sat down, and began to chew.

At that moment a carriage, which had apparently made a long journey, stopped at the entrance to the cemetery. Ibarra got out, followed by an old servant, and silently made his way along the path.

"It is there, behind the great cross, senor," said the servant, as they approached the spot where the grave-digger was sitting.

Arrived at the cross, the old servant looked on all sides, and became greatly confused. "It was there," he muttered; "no, there, but the ground has been broken."

Ibarra looked at him in anguish.

The servant appealed to the grave-digger.

"Where is the grave that was marked with a cross like this?" he demanded; and stooping, he traced a Byzantine cross on the ground.

"Were there flowers growing on it?"

"Yes, jasmine and pansies."

The grave-digger scratched his ear and said with a yawn:

"Well, the cross I burned."

"Burned! and why?"

"Because the curate ordered it."

Ibarra drew his hand across his forehead.

"But at least you can show us the grave."

"The body's no longer there," said the grave-digger calmly.

"What are you saying!"

"Yes," the man went on, with a smile, "I put a woman in its place, eight days ago."

"Are you mad?" cried the servant; "it isn't a year since he was buried."

"Father Damaso ordered it; he told me to take the body to the Chinese cemetery; I----"

He got no farther, and started back in terror at sight of Crisostomo's face. Crisostomo seized his arm. "And you did it?" he demanded, in a terrible voice.

"Don't be angry, senor," replied the grave-digger, pale and trembling. "I didn't bury him with the Chinese. Better be drowned than that, I thought to myself, and I threw him into the water."

Ibarra stared at him like a madman. "You're only a poor fool!" he said at length, and pus.h.i.+ng him away, he rushed headlong for the gate, stumbling over graves and bones, and painfully followed by the old servant.

"That's what the dead bring us," grumbled the gravedigger. "The curate orders me to dig the man up, and this fellow breaks my arm for doing it. That's the way with the Spaniards. I shall lose my place!"

XIII.