"Play!" called Lucas, as he dealt an ace with the fourth or fifth
card. "You've lost," he added. "Now leave me alone so that I can try
to make a raise."
Elias moved away without a word and was soon swallowed up in the
darkness.
Several minutes later the church-clock struck eight and the bell
announced the hour of the souls, but Lucas invited no one to play nor
did he call on the dead, as the superstition directs; instead, he took
off his hat and muttered a few prayers, crossing and recrossing himself
with the same fervor with which, at that same moment, the leader of the
Brotherhood of the Holy Rosary was going through a similar performance.
Throughout the night a drizzling rain continued to fall. By nine
o'clock the streets were dark and solitary. The coconut-oil lanterns,
which the inhabitants were required to hang out, scarcely illuminated
a small circle around each, seeming to be lighted only to render the
darkness more apparent. Two civil-guards paced back and forth in the
street near the church.
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