“They believe her to be my mistress!” he said angrily.  “My poor Visitacion, so good, so affectionate, so gentle to all, changed to a courtesan by these wretches!  A sweetheart that I have taken for my amusement from the college of Noble Ladies!  As if I, old and infirm, were able to think of such things!  Brutes! wretches!  Crimes have been committed for less!”

“Let them say on.  God is in heaven and sees us all.”

“I know it, but this is not enough to quiet me.  You have children, Tomasa, and you know what it is to love them.  It is not only what is done against them that wounds us, but what is said.  What days of suffering I endure!  You know since my boyhood all my dreams have been to rise to where I am.  I used to look at the throne in the choir and think how comfortable I should be in it—­of the immense happiness of being a prince of the Church.  Well, now I am on the throne.  I have spent half a century removing the stones from my path, leaving my skin and even my flesh on the brambles of the hillside.  I only know how I was able to rise from the black mass and obtain a bishopric!  Afterwards—­now I am an archbishop! now I am a cardinal!  At last I can rise no higher!  And what is it all?  Happiness always floats before us like the cloud of light which guided the Israelites.  We see it, we almost touch it, but it never lets itself be caught.  I am more unhappy now than in the days when I struggled to rise, and thought myself the most unfortunate of men.  I am no longer young; the height on which I stand draws all eyes to me and prevents me defending myself.  Ay, Tomasa! pity me, for I am worthy of compassion!  To be a father and to be obliged to hide it as a crime!  To love my daughter with an affection which increases more and more as I draw nearer to death, and have to endure that people should imagine this pure affection to be something so repugnant!”

And the terrible glance of Don Sebastian, which terrified all the diocese, was clouded with tears.

“Moreover, I have other troubles,” he went on, “but they are those of a far-seeing man who fears the future.  When I die, all that I have will be my daughter’s.  Juanito inherits what belonged to his mother, who was rich; besides, he has his profession and the support of my friends.  Visitacion will be very rich.  You know my adversaries throw in my face what they call my avarice.  Avaricious I am not, but foreseeing, and anxious for the well-being of those belonging to me.  I have saved a great deal.  I am not one of those who distribute bread at the gate of his palace, nor who seek popularity through almsgiving.  I have pasture lands in Estremadura, many vineyards in La Mancha, houses, and above all State stock—­much stock.  As a good Spaniard I have wished to help the Government with my money, more especially as it bears interest.  I do not quite know how much I possess, but certainly twenty millions of reals, and probably more, all saved by