One day Dona Perfecta, Don Inocencio, Jacinto, and Pinzon were conversing together in the garden.  They were talking about the soldiers and the purpose for which they had been sent to Orbajosa, in which the Penitentiary found motive for condemning the tyrannical conduct of the Government; and, without knowing how it came about, Pepe Rey’s name was mentioned.

“He is still at the hotel,” said the little lawyer.  “I saw him yesterday, and he gave me remembrances for you, Dona Perfecta.”

“Was there ever seen such insolence!  Ah, Senor Pinzon! do not be surprised at my using this language, speaking of my own nephew—­that young man, you remember, who had the room which you occupy.”

“Yes, I know.  I am not acquainted with him, but I know him by sight and by reputation.  He is an intimate friend of our brigadier.”

“An intimate friend of the brigadier?”

“Yes, senor; of the commander of the brigade that has just arrived in this district, and which is quartered in the neighboring villages.”

“And where is he?” asked the lady.

“In Orbajosa.”

“I think he is stopping at Polavieja’s,” observed Jacinto.

“Your nephew and Brigadier Batalla are intimate friends,” continued Pinzon; “they are always to be seen together in the streets.”

“Well, my friend, that gives me a bad idea of your chief,” said Dona Perfecta.

“He is—­he is very good-natured,” said Pinzon, in the tone of one who, through motives of respect, did not venture to use a harsher word.

“With your permission, Senor Pinzon, and making an honorable exception in your favor, it must be said that in the Spanish army there are some curious types——­”

“Our brigadier was an excellent soldier before he gave himself up to spiritualism.”

“To spiritualism!”

“That sect that calls up ghosts and goblins by means of the legs of a table!” said the canon, laughing.

“From curiosity, only from curiosity,” said Jacintillo, with emphasis, “I ordered Allan Kardec’s book from Madrid.  It is well to know something about every thing.”

“But is it possible that such follies—­Heavens!  Tell me, Pinzon, does my nephew too belong to that sect of table-tippers?”

“I think it was he who indoctrinated our valiant Brigadier Batalla.”

“Good Heavens!”

“Yes; and whenever he chooses,” said Don Inocencio, unable to contain his laughter, “he can speak to Socrates, St. Paul, Cervantes, or Descartes, as I speak to Librada to ask her for a match.  Poor Senor de Rey!  I was not mistaken in saying that there was something wrong in his head.”

“Outside that,” continued Pinzon, “our brigadier is a good soldier.  If he errs at all, it is on the side of severity.  He takes the orders of the Government so literally that, if he were to meet with much opposition here, he would be capable of not leaving one stone upon another in Orbajosa.  Yes, I advise you all to be on your guard.”