"You are exact to the rendezvous, Señor Padre."
"I am performing my duty, my son," the monk at once answered, turning round.
In the person who addressed him he doubtless recognized a friend, for he offered him his hand by a spontaneous movement.
"Are you still resolved to attempt the adventure?" the first speaker continued.
"More than ever, señor."
"Bear in mind that you must not mention my name; we do not know each other; you are a monk from the San Franciscan monastery, whom I fetched to confess a young novice at the Convent of the Bernardines. It is understood that you do not know who I am?"
"My brother, we poor monks are at the service of the afflicted; our duty orders us to help them when they claim our support; as we have no name for society, we are forbidden to ask that of those who summon us."
"Excellently spoken," the other replied, repressing a smile. "You are a monk according to my own heart. I see that I am not deceived with respect to you; come then, my father, we must not keep the person waiting who is expecting us."
The Franciscan bowed his assent, placed himself in the right of his singular friend, and both went away from the Parian, where the noise had become louder than ever, after the angelos had ceased ringing. The two men passed unnoticed through the crowd, and walked in the direction of the Convent of the Bernardines, going along silently, side by side.
We have said that at the convent gate they passed Don Serapio de la Ronda, that is to say, Valentine Guillois, and that the three men exchanged a side glance full of meaning. The sister porter made no objection to admitting the Franciscan; and his guide, so soon as he saw him inside the convent, took leave of him after exchanging a few commonplace compliments with the sister. The latter respectfully led the monk into a parlour, and after begging him to wait a moment, went away to inform the Mother Superior of the arrival of the confessor whom the young novice had requested to see.