A small man dressed in black, and shaved like a cleric, came down the
steps.

"Esteban! Esteban!" cried Luna, placing himself between him and the
door of the Presentacion.

"Wooden Staff" looked at him with his clear eyes like amber, the quiet
eyes of a man used to spending long hours in the Cathedral, with never
a rebellious thought arising to disturb his immovable beatitude. He
stood doubting for some time, as though he could scarcely credit the
remote resemblance in this thin, pale face, to another that lived in
his memory, but at last, with a pained surprise, he became convinced
of its identity.

"Gabriel! my brother! is it really you?"

And the rigidly set face of the Cathedral servant, which seemed to
have acquired the immobility of its pillars and statues, relaxed with
an affectionate smile.

"When did you come? Where have you been? What is your life? Why have
you come?"

"Wooden Staff" expressed his surprise by incessant questions, never
giving his brother time to answer.

Gabriel at length explained, that he had arrived the previous night,
and that he had waited outside the church since early dawn in the
hopes of seeing his brother.