The assembly listened in silence.
“But——” demanded Captain Basilio.
“I approve entirely,” repeated the functionary, “that is to say, I do not approve; I say yes, but——”
He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.
“But,” continued the unhappy man, coming to the point at last, “the curate wants something else.”
“Is the curate to pay for the festival? Has he given even a cuarto?” cried a penetrating voice.
Every one turned. It was Tasio. The lieutenant remained immovable, his eyes on the gobernadorcillo.
“And what does the curate want?” demanded Don Basilio.
“The curate wants six processions, three sermons, three solemn masses, and if any money is left, a comedy with songs between the acts.”
“But we don’t want it!” cried the young men and some of their elders.