The bell announces the hour of evening prayer. On hearing the religious sound, all stop, leave their work and uncover their heads; the laborer, coming from the fields on the carabao’s back, suspends the song to which the animal keeps step, and prays; the women in the middle of the street make the sign of the cross, and move their lips with affectation so that no one may doubt their devotion: the man stops fondling his game-cock and recites the Angelus so that he may have good luck; in the houses, they pray in a loud voice ... every sound which is not a part of the Ave Maria is dissipated, silenced.  
However, the curate, without his hat, hastily crosses the street, scandalizing many old women. And still more scandalous, he directs his steps towards the alferez’s house. The devout women think that it is time for them to stop the movement of their lips and to kiss the curate’s hand, but Father Salví takes no notice of them. To-day he finds no pleasure in placing his bony hand under a Christian’s nose. Some important business must be occupying him that he should so forget his own interests and those of the Church!
 
He goes up the stairs and knocks impatiently at the alferez’s door. The latter appears, his eyebrows knit and followed by his better half, who smiles malignantly.
 
“Ah, Father Curate! I was just going to see you. Your he-goat....”
 
“I have a most important matter....”
 
“I can’t allow your goat to go on breaking down my fence.... I’ll shoot him if he gets in there again.”
 
“That is if you are alive to-morrow,” said the curate, breathless, and directing himself toward the sala.
 
“What! do you think that that seven-months-old puppy will kill me? I’ll kick him to pieces.” [218]
 
Father Salví stepped back and looked instinctively at the feet of the alferez.
 
“Whom are you talking about?” asked he, trembling.
 
“Of whom could I be talking but that big blockhead who proposes to challenge me to a duel with revolvers at one hundred paces?”
 
“Ah!” sighed the curate, and added: “I have come to speak about a most urgent matter which seriously concerns the life of all of us.”
 
“Seriously!” repeated the alferez, turning pale in turn. “Does this young fellow shoot well...?”
 
“I am not speaking about him.”
 
“Then?”
 
The friar pointed to the door which the alferez shut in his customary manner, by a kick. The alferez usually found his hands superfluous. An imprecation and a groan from without were heard.
 
“You brute. You have cut open my head!” cried his wife.
 
“Now unbosom yourself,” said he to the curate in a quiet manner. The latter looked at him for some time. Afterward he asked, in that nasal and monotonous priest’s voice:
 
“Did you see how I came running?”
 
“Umph! I thought something was the matter with you.”
 
“When I leave my duties in this manner there are grave motives.”
 
“And what is it?” asked the other, stamping his foot on the floor.
 
“Calm yourself!”
 
“Then, why did you come in such a hurry?”
 
The curate approached him and asked in a mysterious way:
 
“Don’t—you—know—anything—new?”
 
The alferez shrugged his shoulders.
 
“You confess that you know absolutely nothing?”
 
“What! do you mean to tell me about Elias, whom your sacristan mayor hid last night?” he asked.
 
“No, no! I don’t speak of such matters now,” replied the curate, in a bad humor. “I am talking about a great danger.” [219]
 
“Then d——n it! Let it out.”
 
“Now then,” said the friar slowly and with a certain disdain, “you will see again how important we priests are. The lowest layman is worth a regiment, so that a curate....”
 
And then lowering his voice in a very mysterious manner:
 
“I have discovered a great conspiracy.”
 
The alferez started and looked at the friar astonished.
 
“A terrible and well-laid conspiracy, which is to break out this very night.”
 
“This very night!” exclaimed the alferez, moving at first toward Father Salví, and then running after his revolver and saber, which were hanging on the wall: “Whom shall I arrest? Whom shall I arrest?” he cried.
 
“Be calm. It is not yet time, thanks to my great haste. At eight o’clock.”
 
“I’ll shoot them all!”
 
“Listen! This afternoon a woman, whose name I must not mention (it is a secret of the confessional) came to me and disclosed it all. At eight o’clock they will take the cuartel by surprise, sack the convent, seize the Government’s steamboat and assassinate all the Spaniards.”
 
The alferez was stupified.
 
“The woman has not told more than that,” added the curate.
 
“Has not told you more? Then I’ll arrest her!”
 
“No; I cannot consent to it. The tribunal of penitence is the throne of God of forgiveness.”
 
“Neither God nor forgiveness count in this matter. I’ll arrest her.”
 
“You are losing your head. What you ought to do is to prepare yourself. Arm your soldiers quietly and put them in ambush. Send me four Guards for the convent and notify the people on the Government steamboat.”
 
“The boat is not here. I’ll send to other sections for aid.”
 
“They would notice that and would not go on with their plans. No, don’t do that. What is important is that we catch them alive and make them talk; I say, you will make them disclose the conspiracy. I, in the capacity [220]of a priest, ought not to mix myself in these matters. Now’s your chance! Here you can win crosses and stars. I ask only that you make it evident that I am the o............