The curate moved away without heeding the crowd.

He had before his eyes the beautiful form of a maiden sleeping and breathing sweetly.

Her eyelids were shaded by long lashes which formed graceful curves like those of the Virgins of Raphael, the little mouth was smiling, all the features breathed forth virginity, purity, and innocence.

That countenance formed a sweet vision in the midst of the white coverings of her bed like the head of a cherub among the clouds.

His imagination went still further--but who can write what a burning brain can imagine?
Perhaps only the newspaper correspondent, who concluded his account of the fiesta and its accompanying incidents in the following manner: "A thousand thanks, infinite thanks, to the opportune and active intervention of the Very Reverend Padre Fray Bernardo Salvi, who, defying every danger in the midst of the unbridled mob, without hat or cane, calmed the wrath of the crowd, using only his persuasive word with the majesty and authority that are never lacking to a minister of a Religion of Peace.