sic and has sacristans to
help him."

"But the confessing, cumare? Isn't that work?"

"No work about that! I'd just like to be confessing everybody! While
we work and sweat to find out what our own neighbors are doing,
the curate does nothing more than take a seat and they tell him
everything. Sometimes he falls asleep, but he lets out two or three
blessings and we are again the children of God! I'd just like to be
a curate for one evening in Lent!"

"But the preaching? You can't tell me that it's not work. Just look
how the fat curate was sweating this morning," objected the rustic,
who felt himself being beaten into retreat.

"Preaching! Work to preach! Where's your judgment? I'd just like to
be talking half a day from the pulpit, scolding and quarreling with
everybody, without any one daring to reply, and be getting paid for
it besides. I'd just like to be the curate for one morning when those
who are in debt to me are attending mass! Look there now, how Padre
Damaso gets fat with so much scolding and beating."

Padre Damaso was, indeed, approaching with the gait of a heavy
man. He was half smiling, but in such a malignant way that Ibarra,
upon seeing him, lost the thread of his talk. The padre was greeted
with some surprise but with signs of pleasure on the part of all
except Ibarra. They were then at the dessert and the champagne was
foaming in the glasses.

Padre Damaso's smile became nervous when he saw Maria Clara seated
at Crisostomo's right. He took a seat beside the alcalde and said in
the midst of a significant silence, "Were you discussing something,
gentlemen? Go ahead!"

"We were at the toasts," answered the alcalde. "Senor Ibarra was
mentioning all who have helped him in his philanthropic enterprise
and was speaking of the architect when your Reverence--"

"Well, I don't know anything about architecture," interrupted Padre
Damaso, "but I laugh at architects and the fools who employ them. Here
you have it--I drew the plan of this church and it's perfectly
constructed, so an English jeweler who stopped in the convento one
day assured me. To draw a plan one needs only to have two fingers'
breadth of forehead."

"Nevertheless," answered the alcalde, seeing that Ibarra was silent,
"when we consider certain buildings, as, for example, this schoolhouse,
we need an expert."

"Get out with your experts!" exclaimed the priest with a sneer. "Only
a fool needs experts! One must be more of a brute than