Father Dámaso drove up in front of Captain Tiago’s house and the Franciscan stepped to the ground just as Aunt Isabel and Maria Clara were getting into their silver-trimmed carriage. They saluted Father Dámaso, and he, in his preoccupation, gently patted Maria Clara on the cheek.
 
“Where are you going?” the friar asked.
 
“To the convent to get my things,” replied the younger.
 
“Ah, ha! Ah, ha! We’ll see who is the stronger. We’ll see!” he muttered and turned away, leaving the two women in wonder as to what it all meant. The friar stepped along lightly, and reaching the stairs, went up.
 
“He must be studying his sermon,” said Isabel. “Get in, Maria; we shall be late.”
 
Whether Father Dámaso was studying his sermon or not we cannot say. At any rate, he was absorbed in some important matter, for he even forgot to extend his hand to Captain Tiago upon entering, greatly to the embarrassment of the Captain, who had to feign kissing it.
 
“Santiago, we have some very important matters to talk over; let us go to your office.”
 
The Captain, somewhat disturbed, was unable to reply, but he obeyed and followed the big priest into his office. Father Dámaso shut the door behind them.
 
While they are conferring in secret, let us find out what has become of Brother Sibyla. The wise Dominican was not to be found at his parochial residence, for early, immediately after mass, he had gone to the Dominican convent, situated near the gate called Isabel the Second or Magallanes, according to which family is in power in Madrid. Paying no attention to the delicious odor of chocolate or to the rattling of money boxes and coins in [36]the treasurer’s office, and scarcely answering the deferential salute of the treasurer, Father Sibyla went upstairs, crossed several corridors and rapped on a door.
 
“Come in!” answered a voice.
 
“May God give back health to Your Reverence!” was the greeting of the young Dominican as he entered.
 
A very feeble old priest was seated in a large arm-chair. His complexion was as yellow as the saints which Revera paints; his eyes were sunk deep in their orbits, and his heavy eyebrows, which were nearly always knit in a frown, added to the brilliant glare of his death-foreboding eyes.
 
“I have come to talk to you about the charge with which you have entrusted me,” said Father Sibyla.
 
“Ah, yes. And what about it?”
 
“Pshaw!” answered the young man with disgust, seating himself and turning his face away with disdain. “They have been telling us a lot of lies. Young Ibarra is a prudent boy. He does not seem to be a fool. I think he is a pretty good sort of a chap.”
 
“Do you think so?”
 
“Hostilities began last night.”
 
“So soon? And how did it come about?”
 
Father Sibyla related briefly what had taken place between Father Dámaso and Crisostomo Ibarra.
 
“Furthermore,” he added, in conclusion, “the young man is going to marry that daughter of Captain Tiago, who was educated in the college of our sisters. He is rich and would not want to make any enemies who might cause the loss of his happiness and his fortune.”
 
The sick man bowed his head as a sign of assent. “Yes, that is my opinion. With such a wife and such a father-in-law we can hold him body and soul. And if not, it will be all the better for us if he declares himself our enemy.”
 
Father Sibyla looked at the old man with surprise.
 
“That is to say, for the good of our whole corporation,” he added, breathing with difficulty. “I prefer open attacks to the foolish praise and adulations of friends, for, the truth is, flattery is always paid for.”
 
“Does Your Reverence think so?”
 
The old man looked at him sadly. “Always bear this in mind,” he answered, panting with fatigue, “that our [37]power will endure as long as it is believed in. If they attack us, the Government says, ‘They attack them, because they see in them an obstacle to their liberty, therefore let us preserve them.’”
 
“And if the Government gives them a hearing? Sometimes the Government——”
 
&l............