Maria Clara was still in bed, pale, very pale, and at her side were her two friends.
"Take one more grain," Sinang whispered, as she offered her a white tablet that she took from a small glass tube.

"He says that when you feel a rumbling or buzzing in your ears you are to stop the medicine." "Hasn't he written to you again ?" asked the sick girl in a low voice.
"No, he must be very busy." "Hasn't he sent any message ?" "He says nothing more than that he's going to try to get the Archbishop to absolve him from the excommunication, so that--" This conversation was suspended at the aunt's approach.

"The padre says for you to get ready for confession, daughter," said the latter.

"You girls must leave her so that she can make her examination of conscience." "But it hasn't been a week since she confessed!" protested Sinang.

"I'm not sick and I don't sin as often as that." "Aba! Don't you know what the curate says: the righteous sin seven times a day?
Come, what book shall I bring you, the _Ancora_, the _Ramillete_, or the _Camino Recto para ir al Cielo ?_" Maria Clara did not answer.
"Well, you mustn't tire yourself," added the good aunt to console her.