“Fool, you’ll wake the fat padre, and he doesn’t like my jests, says they’re inspired of the Evil One.”
“Thinking of the Bishop of Sonora’s waiting maid, was he?”
“Well, what of it? Didn’t he elope here with her?”
“And you, Don Tiburcio?”
“Of course; she naturally wanted to correct her first bad taste.”
“By running away with you? If you call that good taste––”
“I call that a good joke on the padrecito.”
Having by this time come safely to the front of the church, Rodrigo was for making certain his escape at once. But Tiburcio interposed. “There’s some talk still due between you and me,” he said. “Sit down, here in the doorway.”
“Well?” said the brigand uneasily.
“Well?” repeated his jocular friend.