But the clergy resisted with the haughtiness and majesty of acquired right, and impious hands began pulling off the garb of the saints, profaning them and even tearing them.

Yells, kicks, images and wax candles on the floor!...

Scandal and abominations as though the Anti-Christ were already born!...

The prudence of Ulysses put an end to the struggle: "What if we should go up in the _porche_ to play ?..." The _porche_ was the immense garret of the great old house, so all accepted the plan with enthusiasm.

Church was over! And like a flock of birds they went flying up the stairs over the landings of multi-colored tiles with their chipped glaze, disclosing the red brick underneath.
The Valencian potters of the eighteenth century had adorned these tiles with Berber and Christian galleys, birds from nearby Albufera, white-wigged hunters offering flowers to a peasant girl, fruits of all kinds, and spirited horsemen on steeds that were half the size of their bodies parading before houses and trees that scarcely reached to the knees of their prancing coursers.
The noisy group spread themselves over the upper floor as in the most terrible invasions of history.