“His Excellency will arrive at four o’clock this afternoon, gentlemen,” said the Alcalde solemnly. “We can finish at our leisure.”
Leonidas, in the pass of Thermopylæ, could not have said with better grace “To-night we will dine with Pluto.”
“I notice the absence of our great preacher,” said one of the government employees timidly. The speaker had an inoffensive look and before this had not opened his mouth, except to eat, during the entire morning.
All who knew the life of Crisostomo’s father twitched their eyes significantly and seemed to say by their movements: “Go on! It’s a bad beginning that you have made!” But others, more benevolently disposed, replied: “He must be somewhat fatigued.”
“What? Somewhat fatigued!” exclaimed the alferez. “Why, he must be exhausted. What did you think of the sermon this morning?”
“Superb, gigantic!” said the Notary.
“To be able to speak like Father Dámaso, a man needs lungs,” observed Father Manuel Martin.
The Augustine did not concede more than lung power.
“And such easiness of expression,” added Father Salví.
“Do you know that Señor Ibarra has the best cook in the province,” remarked the Alcalde, cutting off the conversation.