“I am happy,” he said, “in being troubled about nothing but the state of Father Dámaso. I sincerely desire his complete recovery, for, at his age, a voyage to Spain in search of health would be somewhat disagreeable. But all depends upon him. Meanwhile, God preserve the health of your reverences!”
All retired.
“In his own case also everything depends upon him,” murmured Brother Salvi as he went out.
“We shall see who makes the earliest voyage to Spain!” added another Franciscan.
“I shall go immediately,” said Father Sibyla, in vexation.
“We, too,” grumbled the Augustins.
Both parties bore it ill that for the fault of a Franciscan His Excellency should have received them so coldly.
In the ante-chamber they encountered Ibarra, who a few hours before had been their host. There was no exchange of greetings, but there were eloquent looks. The alcalde, on the contrary, gave Ibarra his hand. On the threshold Crisóstomo met Maria coming out. Looks spoke again, but very differently this time.
Though this encounter with the monks had seemed to him of bad augury, Ibarra presented himself in the utmost calm. He bowed profoundly. The captain-general came forward.
“It gives me the greatest satisfaction, Señor Ibarra, to take you by the hand. I hope for your entire confidence.” And he examined the young man with evident satisfaction.