Still he moved about with precision and elegance while he recited the _Dominus vobiscum_ unctuously, dropping his head a little to the side and gazing toward heaven.

Seeing him receive the smoke from the incense one would have said that Galen was right in averring the passage of smoke in the nasal canals to the head through a screen of ethmoids, since he straightened himself, threw his head back, and moved toward the middle of the altar with such pompousness and gravity that Capitan Tiago found him more majestic than the Chinese comedian of the night before, even though the latter had been dressed as an emperor, paint-bedaubed, with beribboned sword, stiff beard like a horse's mane, and high-soled slippers.

"Undoubtedly," so his thoughts ran, "a single curate of ours has more majesty than all the emperors." At length came the expected moment, that of hearing Padre Damaso.

The three priests seated themselves in their chairs in an edifying attitude, as the worthy correspondent would say, the alcalde and other persons of place and position following their example.

The music ceased.
The sudden transition from noise to silence awoke our aged Sister Pute, who was already snoring under cover of the music.