“Write him to think of me no more,” murmured the sick girl in Sinang’s ear.
“What!”
But Aunt Isabel came back with her book, and Sinang had to go.
The good aunt drew her chair up to the light, settled her glasses on the tip of her nose, and opened a little book.
“Give good attention, my child: I will begin with the commandments of God; I shall go slowly, so that you may meditate: if you don’t hear well, you must tell me, and I will repeat; you know I’m never weary of working for your good.”
In a voice monotonous and nasal, she began to read. Maria Clara gazed vaguely into space. The first commandment finished, Aunt Isabel observed her listener over her glasses, and appeared satisfied with her sad and meditative air. She coughed piously, and after a long pause began the second. The good old woman read with unction. The terms of the second commandment finished, she again looked at her niece, who slowly turned away her head.
“Bah!” said Aunt Isabel within herself, “as to taking His holy name in vain, the poor thing has nothing to question: pass on to the third.”
And the third commandment sifted and commentated, all the causes of sin against it droned out, she again looked toward the bed. This time she lifted her glasses and rubbed her eyes; she had seen her niece raise her handkerchief, as if to wipe away tears.
“Hm!” said she; “hm! the poor child must have fallen asleep during the sermon.” And putting back her glasses on the tip of her nose, she reflected:
“We shall see if besides not keeping the holy feast days, she has not honored her father and her mother.” And slowly, in a voice more nasal than ever, she read the fourth commandment.