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Updated: May 31, 2025
"Go and tell him at once! Go tell him!" answered Father Dámaso, sarcastically, at the same time approaching the lieutenant with his fists doubled. "Don't you think for a moment that, because I wear the dress of a monk, I'm not a man. Hurry! Go tell him! I'll lend you my carriage."
And then, in the same year, a sepulchre with many steps and ranges of columns having been made in the Minerva by the Company of the Sacrament, Francesco painted upon it some scenes and figures in terretta, which were held to be very beautiful. In a chapel of S. Lorenzo in Damaso he executed two Angels in fresco that are holding a canopy, the design of one of which is in our book.
Fray Damaso silently looked him over from head to foot, took the letter offered and read it, but apparently without understanding, for he asked, "And who are you?" "Alfonso Linares, the godson of your brother-in-law," stammered the young man. Padre Damaso threw back his body and looked the youth over again carefully. Then his features lighted up and he arose.
Father Dámaso accused your father of not attending confession. In former times, however, he had never attended confession. Nothing was said about it, and he and the priest were good friends, as you will remember. Furthermore, Don Rafael was a very honorable man and much more upright and just than many who go to confession regularly.
While talking with some of his aides about the allusions that the Manila newspapers were making to him under the names of comets and celestial apparitions, one of them told him about the affair of Padre Damaso, with a somewhat heightened coloring although substantially correct as to matter. "From whom did you learn this?" asked his Excellency, smiling.
Whether Padre Damaso noticed this or whether he was still hoarse, the fact is that he coughed several times as he placed both hands on the rail of the pulpit. The Holy Ghost was above his head, freshly painted, clean and white, with rose-colored beak and feet. Here he made a solemn pause as again he swept his gaze over the congregation, with whose attention and concentration he seemed satisfied.
Maria Clara made out the rotund figure of Padre Damaso at the side of the trim silhouette of Padre Sibyla. Motionless in his place stood the silent and mysterious Fray Salvi. "He's sad," observed Sinang, "for he's thinking about how much so many visitors are going to cost. But you'll see how he'll not pay it himself, but the sacristans will. His visitors always eat at other places."
"I, for example," continued Father Dámaso, raising his voice to prevent the other from speaking, "I, who can point to my twenty-three years of existence on bananas and rice, can speak with some authority on this subject. Do not come to me with theories or arguments, for I know the native. Remember, that when I came to this country, I was sent to a parish, small and largely devoted to agriculture.
"But I don't see what that has to do with the abolition of the tobacco monopoly," ventured the rubicund youth, taking advantage of the Franciscan's pausing to drink a glass of sherry. Fray Damaso was so greatly surprised that he nearly let his glass fall. He remained for a moment staring fixedly at the young man. "What? How's that?" he was finally able to exclaim in great wonderment.
The friar stepped along lightly, and reaching the stairs, went up. "He must be studying his sermon," said Isabel. "Get in, Maria; we shall be late." Whether Father Dámaso was studying his sermon or not we cannot say.
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