CHAPTER VI
THINGS PHILIPPINE.
Father Dámaso drove up in front of Captain Tiago's house and the
Franciscan stepped to the ground just as Aunt Isabel and Maria Clara
were getting into their silver-trimmed carriage. They saluted Father
Dámaso, and he, in his preoccupation, gently patted Maria Clara on
the cheek.
"Where are you going?" the friar asked.
"To the convent to get my things," replied the younger.
"Ah, ha! Ah, ha! We'll see who is the stronger. We'll see!" he muttered
and turned away, leaving the two women in wonder as to what it all
meant. 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. At
any rate, he was absorbed in some important matter, for he even forgot
to extend his hand to Captain Tiago upon entering, greatly to the
embarrassment of the Captain, who had to feign kissing it.
"Santiago, we have some very important matters to talk over; let us
go to your office."
The Captain, somewhat disturbed, was unable to reply, but he obeyed
and followed the big priest into his office. Father Dámaso shut the
door behind them.
While they are conferring in secret, let us find out what has
become of Brother Sibyla. The wise Dominican was not to be found at
his parochial residence, for early, immediately after mass, he had
gone to the Dominican convent, situated near the gate called Isabel
the Second or Magallanes, according to which family is in power in
Madrid. Paying no attention to the delicious odor of chocolate or
to the rattling of money boxes and coins in the treasurer's office,
and scarcely answering the deferential salute of the treasurer, Father
Sibyla went upstairs, crossed several corridors and rapped on a door.
"Come in!" answered a voice.
"May God give back health to Your Reverence!" was the greeting of
the young Dominican as he entered.
A very feeble old priest was seated in a large arm-chair. His
complexion was as yellow as the saints which Revera paints; his eyes
were sunk deep in their orbits, and his heavy eyebrows, which were
nearly always knit in a frown, added to the brilliant glare of his
death-foreboding eyes.
"I have come to talk to you about the charge with which you have
entrusted me," said Father Sibyla.
