Cipriano: “The grey dog, and the grey bitch shall run no more about the world. We will bury their bodies in quick-lime, till their souls are eaten, and their bodies, and nothing is left. For lime is the thirsty bone that swallows even a soul and is not slaked.—Bind them with the grey cords, put ash on their heads.”
The guards quickly obeyed. The prisoners, ash-grey, gazed with black, glittering eyes, making not a sound. A guard stood behind each of them. Cipriano gave a sign, and quick as lightning the guards had got the throats of the two victims in a grey cloth, and with a sharp jerk had broken their necks, lifting them backwards in one movement. The grey cloths they tied hard and tight round the throats, laying the twitching bodies on the floor.
Cipriano turned to the crowd:
Then he turned once more, to the other, imprisoned peons.
Cipriano: “Who are these four?”
Guards: “Four who came to kill Don Ramón.”
Cipriano: “Four men, against one man?”
Guards: “They were more than four, my Lord.”
Cipriano: “When many men come against one, what is the name of the many?”
Guards: “Cowards, my Lord.”
Cipriano: “Cowards it is. They are less than men. Men that are less than men are not good enough for the light of the sun. If men that are men will live, men that are less than men must be put away, lest they multiply too much. Men that are more than men have the judgment of men that are less than men. Shall they die?”