They retired one after the other.
“We will see who will make the journey first,” said a Franciscan.
“I am going off now right away!” said Father Sibyla, with indignation.
“And we are going back to our provinces, too,” said the Augustins.
They could not endure that through the fault of a Franciscan His Excellency had received them coldly.
In the entrance hall they met Ibarra, their host only a few hours ago. They exchanged no salutations, but their looks were eloquent.
The Alcalde, on the contrary, when the friars had disappeared, greeted the young man and extended his hand to him in a familiar way. But the arrival of the adjutant, who was looking for Ibarra, did not give them an opportunity to converse.
Ibarra was dressed in deep mourning. He presented himself in a calm manner, and bowed profoundly, despite the fact that the sight of the friars had not seemed a good omen for him.
The Governor General advanced a few steps. “It gives me great satisfaction to shake your hand. Grant me your entire confidence.”
“Señor ... such kindness...!”