"Maese Pérez has been taken ill, very ill; and it will be impossible for him to attend Mass to-night."
This was the word that the attendant brought back.
The news spread through the church in an instant. It produced a most unpleasant effect. The noise was such in the temple that the chief officer of justice rose to his feet, and the constables entered the church to enforce silence.
At that moment an ill-looking man, ungainly, bony, and cross-eyed to boot, stepped up to the place where the prelate sat.
"Maese Pérez is ill," said he; "the ceremony cannot begin. If you see fit, I will play the organ in his absence, for Maese Pérez is not the greatest organist in the world, nor will the instrument fall into disuse after his death for the lack of a musician to take his place."
The archbishop made a movement of assent; and already some of the faithful, who knew this individual to be an envious rival of the organist of Santa Inés, were breaking into exclamations of disgust when suddenly a great noise was heard in the portico.
"Maese Pérez is here! Maese Pérez is here!"
All heads were turned toward the crowded doorways from which these shouts came.
In truth, Maese Pérez, pale and disfigured, was entering the church, carried in an armchair, which everybody claimed the honor of bearing upon his shoulders. Neither the doctor's commands nor his daughter's tears had been able to keep him in bed.