“I did not believe that it could give me such pain,” murmured Father Dámaso in a mournful voice. “But of two evils the lesser.”
And raising his voice and approaching Linares, he said:
“Come here, my boy! We will speak with Santiago.”
Linares turned pale and allowed himself to be led along by the priest, who was deep in thought.
Then it was Father Salví’s turn to walk up and down the room and he did so, meditating, as was his custom.
A voice bidding him good morning stopped his monotonous tread. He raised his head and his eyes met Lucas, who saluted him humbly.
“What do you want?” asked the eyes of the curate.
“Father, I am the brother of the man who was killed on the day of the fiesta,” replied Lucas, in a tearful tone.
Father Salví stepped back.
“And what of it?” he muttered, in an unintelligible voice.