“So they say,” replied one of the Government employees, “but his fair neighbor does not wish to do honor to his table, for she scarcely takes a mouthful.”
Maria Clara blushed.
“I thank you, Senor.... You occupy yourself too much about me ... but ...” she said timidly.
“But your presence honors him sufficiently,” concluded the gallant Alcalde. Then turning to Father Salví: “Father Curate, I notice that you have been silent and pensive all day long.”
“It is my nature,” muttered the Franciscan. “I would rather listen than talk.”
“Your Reverence seeks always to gain and never to lose,” replied the alferez, in a joking manner.
But Father Salví did not take it as a joke. His eyes flashed a moment and he replied: “You know very well, Señor Alferez, that, during these days, I am not the one who gains most!”
The alferez overlooked the fling with a false laugh and pretended not to hear it.
“But, gentlemen, I do not understand how you can be talking about gains and losses,” intervened the Alcalde. “What will these amiable and discreet young women, who honor us with their presence, think of us? To my mind, the young women are like Æolian harps in the night. It is only necessary to lend an attentive ear to hear them, for their unspeakable harmonies elevate the soul to the celestial spheres of the infinite and of the ideal....”
“Your Excellency is a poet,” said the Notary gayly; and both drained their wine glasses.