“From whom do you have it?” demanded His Excellency, smiling.
“From De Laruja.”
The captain-general smiled again, and added:
“Woman’s tongue, monk’s tongue doesn’t wound. I don’t wish to get entangled with these men in skirts. Besides, the provincial made light of my orders; to punish this priest I demanded that his parish be changed. Well, they gave him a better. Monkishness! as we say in Spain.”
Alone, His Excellency ceased to smile.
“Oh! if the people were not so dense, how easy to bridle their reverences! But every nation merits its lot!”
Meanwhile Captain Tiago finished his conference with Father Dámaso.
“And now you are warned,” said the Franciscan upon leaving. “This would have been avoided if you hadn’t equivocated when I asked you how the matter stood. Don’t make any more false moves, and trust her godfather.”
Captain Tiago took two or three turns about the room, reflecting and sighing. Then suddenly, as if a happy thought had struck him, running to the oratory, he extinguished the two candles lighted for the safeguard of Ibarra.