“No presentations are necessary here,” said Brother Dámaso; “Santiago is a good fellow.”
Er hat das Pulfer nicht erfunden. “He didn’t invent gunpowder,” added Laruja.
“What, you too, Señor de Laruja?” said Doña Victorina over her fan. “How could the poor man have invented gunpowder when, if what they say is true, the Chinese made it centuries ago?”
“The Chinese? ’Twas a Franciscan who invented it,” said Brother Dámaso.
“A Franciscan, no doubt; he must have been a missionary to China,” said the Señora, not disposed to abandon her idea.
“Who is this with Santiago?” asked the lieutenant. Every one looked toward the door, where two men had just entered. They came up to the group around the table.
II.
Crisóstomo Ibarra.
One was the original of the portrait in oil, and he led by the hand a young man in deep black. “Good evening, señores; good evening, fathers,” said Captain Tiago, kissing the hands of the priests, “I have the honor of presenting to you Don Crisóstomo Ibarra.”