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Yet Ben-Zayb was not very much mistaken. The three legs of the table have grooves in them in which slide the mirrors hidden below the platform and covered by the squares of the carpet. By placing the box upon the table a spring is pressed and the mirrors rise gently.
All this was spoken by Don Custodio in a guttural tone to his neighbor Ben-Zayb, while he gesticulated, shrugged his shoulders, and from time to time with his looks consulted the others, who were nodding their heads ambiguously. The Canon Irene indulged in a rather equivocal smile, which he half hid with his hand as he rubbed his nose.
He paused for a few moments to note the effect of his story, then with grave and measured steps approached the table and placed the mysterious box upon it. "The cloth, Mister!" exclaimed the incorrigible Ben-Zayb. "Why not?" rejoined Mr. Leeds, very complaisantly. Lifting the box with his right hand, he caught up the cloth with his left, completely exposing the table sustained by its three legs.
Neither Ben-Zayb nor any of the padres had yet seen it; Juanito Pelaez was the only one who had, and he was describing his wonderment to the party. Ben-Zayb, as a journalist, looked for a natural explanation. Padre Camorra talked of the devil, Padre Irene smiled, Padre Salvi remained grave. "But, Padre, the devil doesn't need to come we are sufficient to damn ourselves "
Here he started to jump over the rail, instead of going through the proper opening, while Padre Camorra broke out into protests, fearing that Ben-Zayb might be right. "And why not, sir?" rejoined the American. "But don't break anything, will you?" The journalist was already on the platform.
With prophetic inspiration Ben-Zayb had been for some days past maintaining in his newspaper that education was disastrous, very disastrous for the Philippine Islands, and now in view of the events of that Friday of pasquinades, the writer crowed and chanted his triumph, leaving belittled and overwhelmed his adversary Horatius, who in the Pirotecnia had dared to ridicule him in the following manner: From our contemporary, El Grito: "Education is disastrous, very disastrous, for the Philippine Islands."
"What a girl, what a girl!" muttered the entranced Padre Camorra. "Come, Padre, pinch yourself and let me alone," said Ben-Zayb fretfully. "What a girl, what a girl!" repeated the friar. "And she has for a sweetheart a pupil of mine, the boy I had the quarrel with." "Just my luck that she's not of my town," he added, after turning his head several times to follow her with his looks.
At that moment the windings and turnings of the river led them to talk about straightening the channel and, as a matter of course, about the port works. Ben-Zayb, the journalist with the countenance of a friar, was disputing with a young friar who in turn had the countenance of an artilleryman.
"Memento, homo, quia pulvis es!" muttered Padre Irene with a smile. "Pish!" sneered Ben-Zayb the same thought had occurred to him, and the Canon had taken the words out of his mouth. "Not knowing what to do," resumed Mr. Leeds, closing the box carefully, "I examined the papyrus and discovered two words whose meaning was unknown to me. I deciphered them, and tried to pronounce them aloud.
All felt as if they had entered a house where there was a corpse, an illusion accentuated by an odor of wax and incense. Don Custodio and Padre Salvi consulted in whispers over the expediency of prohibiting such shows. Ben-Zayb, in order to cheer the dispirited group and embarrass Mr.
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