“Gladly,” assented Josè.
The man rose to depart. At that moment Doña Maria appeared at the door bearing a tray with Josè’s supper. She stopped short as she recognized Diego.
“Ah, Señora Doña Maria!” exclaimed Diego, bowing low. “I kiss your hand.”
The woman looked inquiringly from Diego to Josè. Without a word she set the tray on the table and quickly departed.
“H’m, amigo, I think it well to visit the Alcalde at once,” murmured Diego. “I regret that I bring the amiable señora no greeting from her charming daughter. Ay de mí!” he sighed, picking up his hat. “The conventions of this world are so narrow!”
Don Mario exclaimed loudly when he beheld the familiar figure of Padre Diego. Recovering from his astonishment he broke into a loud guffaw and clapped the grinning priest heartily upon the back.
“Caramba, man! But I admire you at last! I can forgive all your wickedness at sight of such nerve! Ramona!” calling to his daughter in the patio. “That last garrafón and some glasses! But enter, enter, señores! Why stand you there? My poor hovel is yours!” stepping aside and ceremoniously waving them in.
“Our friend finds that his supper awaits him,” said Diego, laying a hand patronizingly upon Josè’s arm. “But I will eat with you, my good Don Mario, and occupy a petate on your floor to-night. Conque, until later, Don Josè,” waving a polite dismissal to the latter. “If not to-night, then in the morning temprano.”
The audacity of the man nettled Josè. He would have liked to be present during the interview between the Alcalde and this cunning religio-political agent, for he knew that the weak-kneed Don Mario would be putty in his oily hands. However, Diego had shown him that he was not wanted. And there was nothing to do but nurse his temper and await events.