“O, yes! Before I forget it: let the scrupulous people know (for some may fear to speak to me) that I am no longer excommunicated. The Archbishop invited me to dine with him.”
“Pshaw! señor! We don’t take any notice of excommunications. We are all excommunicated. Dather Dámaso is himself; however, he goes on, as fat as ever.”
“How’s that?”
“I feel sure about it. A year ago he gave the coadjutor a blow with his cane, and the coadjutor is as much a priest as he. Who takes any notice of excommunications, señor?”
Ibarra caught sight of Elias among the workmen. He saluted him like the others, but with a look that gave Ibarra to understand that he wanted to speak with him.
“Ñor Juan,” said Ibarra, “will you bring me a list of the workmen?”
Ñor Juan disappeared and Ibarra approached Elias, who was alone, raising a large stone and loading it in a cart.
“If you are able, señor, to grant me some hours of conversation, come this afternoon to the shore of the lake and embark in my banca, for I want to talk with you about some serious matters,” said Elias. Ibarra gave a nod of assent and went away.
Ñor Juan brought the list, but Ibarra read it in vain. The name of Elias was not on it.