“A rascal, perhaps. The other was so honorable!” said Doña Perfecta, with alarm. “I never asked any thing from him that he did not grant it to me at once. Do you know who will be the new alcalde?”
“They say a corregidor is coming.”
“There, say at once that the Deluge is coming, and let us be done with it,” said the canon, rising.
“So that we are at the brigadier’s mercy!”
“For a few days only. Don’t be angry with me. In spite of my uniform I am an enemy of militarism; but we are ordered to strike—and we strike. There could not be a viler trade than ours.”
“That it is, that it is!” said Doña Perfecta, with difficulty concealing her fury. “Now that you have confessed it——So, then, neither alcalde nor judge——”
“Nor governor of the province.”
“Let them take the bishop from us also and send us a choir boy in his stead.”
“That is all that is wanting—if the people here will allow them to do it,” murmured Don Inocencio, lowering his eyes. “They won’t stop at trifles.”
“And it is all because they are afraid of an insurrection in Orbajosa,” exclaimed Doña Perfecta, clasping her hands and waving them up and down. “Frankly, Pinzon, I don’t know why it is that even the very stones don’t rise up in rebellion. I wish you no harm; but it would be a just judgment on you if the water you drink turned into mud. You say that my nephew is the intimate friend of the brigadier?”