There, under the shade of the decorated pavilion, the great men of the province were banqueting. The Alcalde occupied one end of the table; Ibarra, the other. On the young man’s right sat Maria Clara, and on his left, the Notary. Captain Tiago, the alferez, the gobernadorcillo, the friars, the employees, and the few se?oritas who were present were seated, not according to rank but according to their own fancy.  
The banquet was very animated, but, before it was half over, a messenger with a telegram came in search of Captain Tiago. The Captain asked permission to read the message, and naturally all begged of him to do so.
 
The worthy Captain at first knit his eyebrows; and then raised them. His face became pale, and then brightened up. Doubling up the sheet of paper hurriedly, he arose.
 
“Gentlemen,” said he, confused, “His Excellency, the Governor General, is coming this afternoon to honor my house.”
 
And then he started on a run, taking with him the telegram and the napkin, but not his hat. All sorts of questions and exclamations were shouted after him. The announcement of the coming of the tulisanes could not have had a greater effect. “But listen! When does he come? Tell us about it! His Excellency!” But Captain Tiago was already far away.
 
“His Excellency is coming and will be a guest at Captain Tiago’s house!” exclaimed some one, without considering that the Captain’s daughter and future son-in-law were present.
 
“The choice could not have been a better one,” replied another.
 
The friars looked at each other. Their expressions [105]seemed to say: “The Governor General is committing another of his errors, offending us in this way. He ought to be the guest of the convent.” But despite the fact that they thought this, they all kept silent and no one of them expressed his opinion.
 
“Even yesterday he was speaking to me about it,” said the Alcalde, “but, at that time, His Excellency was not decided.”
 
“Do you know, Your Excellency, Se?or Alcalde, how long the Governor General intends to remain here?” asked the alferez, a little uneasy.
 
“No, not positively. His Excellency likes surprises.”
 
“Here come some other telegrams!”
 
The messages were for the Alcalde, the alferez, and the gobernadorcillo, and announced the same thing to each of them. The friars noticed that none came addressed to the curate.
 
“His Excellency will arrive at four o’clock this afternoon, gentlemen,” said the Alcalde solemnly. “We can finish at our leisure.”
 
Leonidas, in the pass of Thermopyl?, could not have said with better grace “To-night we will dine with Pluto.”
 
“I notice the absence of our great preacher,” said one of the government employees timidly. The speaker had an inoffensive look and before this had not opened his mouth, except to eat, during the entire morning.
 
All who knew the life of Crisostomo’s father twitched their eyes significantly and seemed to say by their movements: “Go on! It’s a bad beginning that you have made!” But others, more benevolently disposed, replied: “He must be somewhat fatigued.”
 
“What? Somewhat fatigued!” exclaimed the alferez. “Why, he must be exhausted. What did you think of the sermon this morning?”
 
“Superb, gigantic!” said the Notary.
 
“To be able to speak like Father Dámaso, a man needs lungs,” observed Father Manuel Martin.
 
The Augustine did not concede more than lung power.
 
“And such easiness of expression,” added Father Salví.
 
“Do you know that Se?or Ibarra has the best cook in the [106]province,” remarked the Alcalde, cutting off the conversation.
 
“So they say,” replied one of the Government employees, “but his fair neighbor does not wish to do honor to his table, for she scarcely takes a mouthful.”
 
Maria Clara blushed.
 
“I thank you, Senor.... You occupy yourself too much about me ... but ...” she said timidly.
 
“But your presence honors him sufficiently,” concluded the gallant Alcalde. Then turning to Father Salví: “Father Curate, I notice that you have been silent and pensive all day long.”
 
“It is my nature,” muttered the Franciscan. “I would rather listen than talk.”
 
“Your Reverence seeks always to gain and never to lose,” replied the alferez, in a joking manner.
 
But Father Salví did not take it as a joke. His eyes flashed a moment and he replied: “You know very well, Se?or Alferez, that, during these days, I am not the one who gains most!”
 
The alferez overlooked the fling with a false laugh and pretended not to hear it.
 
“But, gentlemen, I do not understand how you can be talking about gains and losses,” intervened the Alcalde. “What will these amiable and discreet young women, who honor us with their presence, think of us? To my mind, the young women are like ?olian harps in the night. It is only necessary to lend an attentive ear to hear them, for their unspeakable harmonies elevate the soul to the celestial spheres of the infinite and of the ideal....”
 
“Your Excellency is a poet,” said the Notary gayly; and both drained their wine glasses.
 
“I cannot help it,” said the Alcalde, wiping his lips. “The occasion, if it does not always make the thief, makes the poet. In my youth I composed verses, and they certainly were not bad ones.”
 
“So Your Excellency has been unfaithful to the Muses, deserting them for Themis.”
 
“Psh!” What would you do? It has always been my dream to run through the whole social scale. Yesterday I was gathering flowers, and singing songs; to-day I hold [107]the wand of Justice and serve Humanity. To-morrow....”
 
“To-morrow Your Excellency will throw the wand into the fire to warm yourself with it in the winter of life, and will then take a portfolio in the Ministry,” added Father Sibyla.
 
“Psh! Yes ... no.... To be a Minister is not precisely my ideal. The unexpected always happens, though. A little villa in the north of Spain to pass the summer in, a mansion in Madrid, and some possessions in Andalusia for the winter.... We will live remembering our dear Philippines.... Of me Voltaire will not say: ‘Nous n’avons jamais été chez ces peuples que pour nous y enrichir et pour les calomnier.’”
 
The Government employees thought that His Excellency intended a joke and they began to laugh to make a show of appreciating it. The friars imitated them since they did not know that Voltaire was the Volta-i-ré whom they had so often cursed and condemned to Hades. Father Sibyla, however, recognized the name and assumed a serious air, supposing that the Alcalde had uttered some heresy.
 
Father Dámaso was waddling down the road. He was half smiling, but in such a malignant manner, that on seeing him, Ibarra, who was in the act of speaking, lost the thread of his remarks. All were surprised to see Father Dámaso, but, excepting Ibarra, they greeted him with marks of pleasure. They had already reached the last course of the dinner, and the champagne was foaming in the glasses.
............