"Man, you're like a Spaniard, for afterwards a Spaniard asked me the same questions, but in secret.

So I'm going to answer you as I answered the Spaniard: the fat curate ordered me to do so." "Ah! And what did you do with the corpse afterwards ?" further questioned the sensitive one.
"The devil! If I didn't know you and was not sure that you are a _man_ I would say that you were certainly a Spaniard of the Civil Guard, since you ask questions just as he did.

Well, the fat curate ordered me to bury it in the Chinamen's cemetery, but the coffin was heavy and the Chinese cemetery far away--" "No, no! I'm not going to dig any more!" the other interrupted in horror as he threw away his spade and jumped out of the hole.

"I've cut a skull in two and I'm afraid that it won't let me sleep tonight." The old grave-digger laughed to see how the chicken-hearted fellow left, crossing himself.
The cemetery was filling up with men and women dressed in mourning.

Some sought a grave for a time, disputing among themselves the while, and as if they were unable to agree, they scattered about, each kneeling where he thought best.