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Don Custodio's activity being known and recognized, he was named as arbiter and the petition is now in his hands. He promised that he would settle it this month." "Hurrah for Don Custodio!" "But suppose Don Custodio should report unfavorably upon it?" inquired the pessimist Pecson.
Summer went by; Justa began to make preparations for her wedding, and in the meantime Manuel thought of leaving Senor Custodio's house and getting out of Madrid altogether. Whither? He didn't know; the farther away, the better, he thought. In November one of Justa's shopmates got married, in La Bombilla, Senor Custodio and his wife found it impossible to attend, so that Manuel accompanied Justa.
Padre Camorra drew back in loathing, Padre Salvi looked at it closely as if he enjoyed sepulchral things, Padre Irene smiled a knowing smile, Don Custodio affected gravity and disdain, while Ben-Zayb hunted for his mirrors there they must be, for it was a question of mirrors. "It smells like a corpse," observed one lady, fanning herself furiously. "Ugh!"
Senor Custodio was exceedingly eager for knowledge, and if it weren't that the notion struck him as ridiculous, he would have set about learning how to read and write. In the afternoon, work done, he would ask Manuel to read the newspapers and the illustrated reviews that he picked up on the streets, and the ragdealer and his wife listened with the utmost attention.
Like an old lover who discovers a moldy package of amorous epistles, Don Custodio arose and approached the desk. The first envelope, thick, swollen, and plethoric, bore the title: PROJECTS IN PROJECT. "No," he murmured, "they're excellent things, but it would take a year to read them over." The second, also quite voluminous, was entitled: PROJECTS UNDER CONSIDERATION. "No, not those either."
Why cause disaffection among some young men, who later on may feel resentment, when what they ask is commanded by royal decrees?" Padre Irene, Don Custodio, and Padre Fernandez nodded in agreement. "But the Indians must not understand Castilian, you know," cried Padre Camorra. "They mustn't learn it, for then they'll enter into arguments with us, and the Indians must not argue, but obey and pay.
Angelo Custodio, however, seized a rope which was attached to the foremast, and leapt ashore; had he not done so, we should probably have been driven many miles backwards up the storm-tossed river. After the cloud had passed, the regular east wind began to blow, and our further progress was effectually stopped for the night.
Padre Irene naturally agreed with Don Custodio and execrated French operetta. Whew, he had been in Paris, but had never set foot in a theater, the Lord deliver him! Yet the French operetta also counted numerous partizans.
The paper that he thus stored up was purchased by the pasteboard factories; they gave him from thirty or forty centimos per arroba. The manufacturers required the paper to be perfectly dry, and Senor Custodio dried it in the sun.
My idea was to compel all the towns round about, near the bar, to raise ducks, and you'll see how they, all by themselves, will deepen the channel by fishing for the snails no more and no less, no more and no less!" Here Don Custodio extended his arms and gazed triumphantly at the stupefaction of his hearers to none of them had occurred such an original idea.
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