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The latter stared at him for a space, then asked in the nasal, droning voice of the preacher, "Didn't you see me come running?" "Sure! I thought you'd lost something." "Well, now," continued the curate, without heeding the alferez's rudeness, "when I fail thus in my duty, it's because there are grave reasons." "Well, what else?" asked the other, tapping the floor with his foot. "Be calm!"
Don't think that I deny the power of science, above all, that of surgery, but a clean conscience! Read the pious books and you'll see how many cures are effected merely by a clean confession." "Pardon me," objected the piqued Doña Victorina, "this power of the confessional cure the alferez's woman with a confession!"
"It's cold!" said one in Tagalog with a Visayan accent. "We haven't caught any sacristan, so there is no one to repair the alferez's chicken-coop. They're all scared out by the death of that other one. This makes me tired." "Me, too," answered the other. "No one commits robbery, no one raises a disturbance, but, thank God, they say that Elias is in town.
However, the curate, without his hat, hastily crosses the street, scandalizing many old women. And still more scandalous, he directs his steps towards the alferez's house. The devout women think that it is time for them to stop the movement of their lips and to kiss the curate's hand, but Father Salví takes no notice of them.
To-day he finds no pleasure in placing his bony hand under a Christian's nose. Some important business must be occupying him that he should so forget his own interests and those of the Church! He goes up the stairs and knocks impatiently at the alferez's door. The latter appears, his eyebrows knit and followed by his better half, who smiles malignantly. "Ah, Father Curate!
Some important matter must be engaging his attention when he thus forgets his own interests and those of the Church! In fact, he rushes headlong up the stairway and knocks impatiently at the alferez's door. The latter puts in his appearance, scowling, followed by his better half, who smiles like one of the damned. "Ah, Padre, I was just going over to see you. That old goat of yours "
"Well, it can't be worse than 'indio, as the alferez says." The man who was to have a carter for a son became gloomier, while the other scratched his head in thought. "Then it must be like the betelapora that the alferez's old woman says. Worse than that is to spit on the Host." "Well, it's worse than to spit on the Host on Good Friday," was the grave reply.
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