At the sight of his brow, darkened and moist with
sweat, one would have said it was he who had confessed, and absolution
had been denied him.

"Maria! Joseph!" said the good aunt, crossing herself, "who can
comprehend the girls of to-day!"

XXXVIII.

THE TWO WOMEN.

Dona Victorina was taking a walk through the pueblo, to see of
what sort were the dwellings and the advancement of the indolent
Indians. She had put on her most elegant adornments, to impress the
provincials, and to show what distance separated them from her sacred
person. Giving her arm to her limping husband, she paraded the streets
of the pueblo, to the profound amazement of its inhabitants.

"What ugly houses these Indians have!" she began, with a grimace. "One
must needs be an Indian to live in them! And how ill-bred the people
are! They pass us without uncovering. Knock off their hats, as the
curates do, and the lieutenants of the Civil Guard."

"And if they attack me?" stammered the doctor.

"Are you not a man?"

"Yes, but--but--I am lame."

Dona Victorina grew cross. There were no sidewalks in these streets,
and the dust was soiling the train of her dress. Some young girls who
passed dropped their eyes, and did not admire at all as they should
her luxurious attire. Sinang's coachman, who was driving Sinang and
her cousin in an elegant tres-por-ciento, had the effrontery to cry out
to her "Tabi!" in so audacious a voice that she moved out of the way.

"What a brute of a coachman!" she protested; "I shall tell his master
he had better train his servants. Come along, Tiburcio!"

Her husband, fearing a tempest, turned on his heels, and they found
themselves face to face with the alferez. Greetings were exchanged,
but Dona Victorina's discontent grew. Not only had the officer said
nothing complimentary of her costume, but she believed she detected
mockery in his look.

"You ought not to give your hand to a simple alferez," she said to
her husband, when the officer had passed. "You don't know how to
preserve your rank."

"H--here he is the chief."

"What does that mean to us? Do we happen to be Indians?"

"You are right," said Don Tiburcio, not minded to dispute.

They passed the barracks. Dona Consolacion was at the window, as
usual dressed in flannel, and puffing her puro. As the house was low,
the two women faced each other. The muse examined Dona Victorina from
head to foot, protruded her lip, ejected tobacco juice, and t