CHAPTER III

LEGENDS


Ich weiss nicht was soil es bedeuten
Dass ich so traurig bin!


When Padre Florentino joined the group above, the bad humor provoked by
the previous discussion had entirely disappeared. Perhaps their spirits
had been raised by the attractive houses of the town of Pasig, or the
glasses of sherry they had drunk in preparation for the coming meal, or
the prospect of a good breakfast. Whatever the cause, the fact was that
they were all laughing and joking, even including the lean Franciscan,
although he made little noise and his smiles looked like death-grins.

"Evil times, evil times!" said Padre Sibyla with a laugh.

"Get out, don't say that, Vice-Rector!" responded the Canon Irene,
giving the other's chair a shove. "In Hongkong you're doing a fine
business, putting up every building that--ha, ha!"

"Tut, tut!" was the reply; "you don't see our expenses, and the
tenants on our estates are beginning to complain--"

"Here, enough of complaints, _puñales,_ else I'll fall to
weeping!" cried Padre Camorra gleefully. "We're not complaining,
and we haven't either estates or banking-houses. You know that my
Indians are beginning to haggle over the fees and to flash schedules on