“Ah, yes. And what about it?”
“Pshaw!” answered the young man with disgust, seating himself and turning his face away with disdain. “They have been telling us a lot of lies. Young Ibarra is a prudent boy. He does not seem to be a fool. I think he is a pretty good sort of a chap.”
“Do you think so?”
“Hostilities began last night.”
“So soon? And how did it come about?”
Father Sibyla related briefly what had taken place between Father Dámaso and Crisostomo Ibarra.
“Furthermore,” he added, in conclusion, “the young man is going to marry that daughter of Captain Tiago, who was educated in the college of our sisters. He is rich and would not want to make any enemies who might cause the loss of his happiness and his fortune.”
The sick man bowed his head as a sign of assent. “Yes, that is my opinion. With such a wife and such a father-in-law we can hold him body and soul. And if not, it will be all the better for us if he declares himself our enemy.”
Father Sibyla looked at the old man with surprise.
“That is to say, for the good of our whole corporation,” he added, breathing with difficulty. “I prefer open attacks to the foolish praise and adulations of friends, for, the truth is, flattery is always paid for.”