And Father Dámaso stretched out his robust arms to the young man who blushed, either from shame or suffocation. Father Dámaso seemed to have completely forgotten his grief.
After the first moments of effusion had passed, and questions had been asked about Carlicos, as he called little Charles, Father Dámaso asked:
“Well. What does Carlicos want me to do for you?”
“I believe he says something in the letter,” stammered Linares again.
“In the letter? Let us see. ’Tis so! And he wants me to get you a job and a wife! Hm! Employment—employment: that is easy. Do you know how to read and write?”
“I have graduated in law from the Central University.”
“Carambas! So you are a pettifogger? Well, you don’t look it—you look more like a young gentleman. But so much the better! But to find you a wife—hm! hm! a wife.”
“Father, I am not in a hurry about it,” said Linares, confused.
But Father Dámaso began to walk from one end of the room to the other, muttering: “A wife! A wife!”
His face by this time was no longer sad, nor was it cheerful. It expressed the greatest seriousness and he seemed to be meditating. Father Salví surveyed the scene from a distance.