order to
kiss the curate's hand, but Padre Salvi takes no notice of them. This
evening he finds no pleasure in placing his bony hand on his Christian
nose that he may slip it down dissemblingly (as Dona Consolacion
has observed) over the bosom of the attractive young woman who may
have bent over to receive his blessing. 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--"

"I have a very important matter--"

"I can't stand for his running about and breaking down the fence. I'll
shoot him if he comes back!"

"That is, if you are alive tomorrow!" exclaimed the panting curate
as he made his way toward the sala.

"What, do you think that puny doll will kill me? I'll bust him with
a kick!"

Padre Salvi stepped backward with an involuntary glance toward the
alferez's feet. "Whom are you talking about?" he asked tremblingly.

"About whom would I talk but that simpleton who has challenged me to
a duel with revolvers at a hundred paces?"

"Ah!" sighed the curate, then he added, "I've come to talk to you
about a very urgent matter."

"Enough of urgent matters! It'll be like that affair of the two boys."

Had the light been other than from coconut oil and the lamp globe
not so dirty, the alferez would have noticed the curate's pallor.

"Now this is a serious matter, which concerns the lives of all of us,"
declared Padre Salvi in a low voice.

"A serious matter?" echoed the alferez, turning pale. "Can that boy
shoot straight?"

"I'm not talking about him."

"Then, what?"

The friar made a sign toward the door, which the alferez closed in
his own way--with a kick, for he had found his hands superfluous and
had lost nothing by ceasing to be bimanous.

A curse and a roar sounded outside. "Brute, you've split my forehead
open!" yelled his wife.

"Now, unburden yourself," he said calmly to the curate.

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