"It is the Senor Penitentiary, of our holy cathedral," said Dona
Perfecta: "a person whom we all esteem greatly, and whose friend you
will, I hope, be. Take a seat, Senor Don Inocencio."

Pepe shook hands with the venerable canon, and both sat down.

"If you are accustomed to smoke after meals, pray do so," said Dona
Perfecta amiably; "and the Senor Penitentiary also."

The worthy Don Inocencio drew from under his cassock a large leather
cigar-case, which showed unmistakable signs of long use, opened it, and
took from it two long cigarettes, one of which he offered to our friend.
Rosario took a match from a little leaf-shaped matchbox, which the
Spaniards ironically call a wagon, and the engineer and the canon were
soon puffing their smoke over each other.

"And what does Senor Don Jose think of our dear city of Orbajosa?" asked
the canon, shutting his left eye tightly, according to his habit when he
smoked.

"I have not yet been able to form an idea of the town," said Pepe. "From
the little I have seen of it, however, I think that half a dozen large
capitalists disposed to invest their money here, a pair of intelligent
heads to direct the work of renovating the place, and a couple of
thousands of active hands to carry it out, would not be a bad thing
for Orbajosa. Coming from the entrance to the town to the door of this
house, I saw more than a hundred beggars. The greater part of them are
healthy, and even robust men. It is a pitiable army, the sight of which
oppresses the heart."