“Help me, Gabrielillo,” said the priest with an agonised expression.  “If you cannot restore order, this will end badly; they even insult my poor niece, and some day I shall turn half the people of the Claverias out into the street, as I hold authority from His Eminence for everything.  Ay, senor!  I do not know what has happened here; surely the devil must have got loose in our upper cloister!  How these people have changed to me!”

Luna guessed Don Antolin’s thoughts and his allusions to the devil who had got loose in the cloister.  That devil was himself.  No doubt Silver Stick was right.  Without intending it he had introduced discord into the Cathedral.  He had sought calm and forgetfulness in that refuge, and the spirit of rebellion had followed him even into this concealment.  He recalled his thoughts on the first day, when he was alone in the silent cloister; he wished to be another stone in the Cathedral, without thought, without feeling, to spend the rest of his life fixed to that ruin, with the embryonic life of the fungus on the buttress, but the spirit of the outside world had entered in with him.

Luna remembered how travellers in time of plague had crossed the sanitary cordon—­they were well and happy, nothing betrayed the infection in their bodies; but the poisonous germs travelled in the folds of their clothes and in their hair, carrying death without knowing it, helping it to leap all barriers and obstacles, without being in the least aware of it.  He was the same, but instead of spreading death, he spread tumultuous and rebellious life.  The protest of the lower orders that had been surging throughout the world, for more than a century, had entered with him into this still remaining fragment of the sixteenth century.  He had awakened those men, who had been like the sleepers in the legend, motionless in their cave for ages, while the centuries rolled on and the world was transformed.

The awakening of these people was sudden and violent, like that of a people in revolution.  They were ashamed of the old errors that they had worshipped, and this made them receive as gospel everything that was new, without quailing before the consequences.

It was the faith of a people which, once it takes form, rushes onwards, accepting everything, justifying everything, the only requirement being its novelty, and casting aside contemptuously those traditional principles which it had just abandoned.

The cowardly submission of Silver Stick was the first victory of those more daring souls who formed Luna’s surrounding.  The avaricious and despotic priest lowered his eyes before them, smilingly anxious to make himself agreeable.  This they owed to the master, for he was now the true ruler of the upper cloister.  Don Antolin consulted him before making any arrangements, and his ugly niece smiled on Gabriel as the daughters of the conquered might smile on a triumphant hero.