As though he had read my thoughts, he stopped on hearing my footsteps, and faced me, while he said in a resolute and commanding tone:
“Good afternoon, sir. You’ll excuse me for asking you a question. Do you come from San Andrés de Louza, and are you going to the Aldao’s Tower?”
“Yes, sir, I am going there,” I answered, somewhat surprised.
“Well, if you have no objection, we’ll go along together. I know the way, because I have been there before. I take the liberty of making this proposition, as I imagine that whenever one finds himself traveling alone in the country, he is not offended—”
“Offense! Quite the contrary,” I replied, pleased with the friar’s martial air.
We went on side by side, because the path was widening and allowed us this privilege of sociability. I then noticed that he wore no shoes, but had on sandals which were fastened over the instep, thus leaving free his toes, which were fleshy and well-shaped like those of the statues of San Antonio of Padua. He at once began to question me.
“You must pardon me, for I am very frank, and like to have people know each other. Are you, perchance, a relative of Carmiña Aldao?”
“No, sir, but of her betrothed. I am his nephew.”
“Ah, I know now; the one who was studying in Madrid to become a civil engineer; Benigna’s son.”
“Just so. How is it you know so much about me?”