Without paying attention to anybody, Father Dámaso went straight to the sick room and took hold of Maria’s hand.  
“Maria!” said he, with indescribable tenderness, as tears dropped from his eyes. “Maria, my child, you are not going to die!”
 
Maria opened her eyes and looked at him with surprise.
 
None who knew the Franciscan suspected that he ever had such tender thoughts. No one ever supposed that a heart existed under that gross and rude aspect.
 
Father Dámaso could say no more and left the maiden, weeping like a child. He went out through the room at the head of the stairs, to give free vent to his grief, on Maria Clara’s balcony under her favorite vines.
 
“How he loves his god-daughter!” thought they all.
 
Father Salví witnessed the scene, immovable and silent, lightly biting his lips.
 
When his grief was somewhat soothed, Father Dámaso was introduced by Do?a Victorina to the young Linares, who approached the friar with respect.
 
Father Dámaso gazed at him in silence from head to foot. He took the letter which the young man handed to him and read it apparently without understanding it, for he asked him:
 
“And who are you?”
 
“Alfonso Linares, the god-son of your brother-in-law,” stammered the young man.
 
Father Dámaso leaned back and examined the young man again. His face brightened up and he rose to his feet.
 
“And so you are the god-son of little Charles!” he exclaimed. [162]“Come here and let me embrace you. It was some days ago that I received your letter. So it is you! I did not know you—but that is easily explained, for you were not yet born when I left the country. I never knew you.”
 
And Father Dámaso stretched out his robust arms to the young man who blushed, either from shame or suffocation. Father Dámaso seemed to have completely forgotten his grief.
 
After the first moments of effusion had passed, and questions had been asked about Carlicos, as he called little Charles, Father Dámaso asked:
 
“Well. What does Carlicos want me to do for you?”
 
“I believe he says something in the letter,” stammered Linares again.
 
“In the letter? Let us see. ’Tis so! And he wants me to get you a job and a wife! Hm! Employment—employment: that is easy. Do you know how to read and write?”
 
“I have graduated in law from the Central University.”
 
“Carambas! So you are a pettifogger? Well, you don’t look it—you look more like a young gentleman. But so much the better! But to find you a wife—hm! hm! a wife.”
 
“Father, I am not in a hurry about it,” said Linares, confused.
 
But Father Dámaso began to walk from one end of the room to the other, muttering: “A wife! A wife!”
 
His face by this time was no longer sad, nor was it cheerful. It expressed the greatest seriousness and he seemed to be meditating. Father Salví surveyed the scene from a distance.
 
&ld............