Ibarra only was left, and the order was about to be given for the yellowish individual to lower the stone when the curate remembered the youth and said to him in a joking tone, with affected familiarity: "Aren't you going to put on your trowelful, Senor Ibarra ?" "I should be a Juan Palomo, to prepare the meal and eat it myself," answered the latter in the same tone.
"Go on!" said the alcalde, shoving him forward gently.

"Otherwise, I'll order that the stone be not lowered at all and we'll be here until doomsday." Before such a terrible threat Ibarra had to obey.

He exchanged the small silver trowel for a large iron one, an act which caused some of the spectators to smile, and went forward tranquilly.

Elias gazed at him with such an indefinable expression that on seeing it one might have said that his whole life was concentrated in his eyes.

The yellowish individual stared into the trench, which opened at his feet.