I watched for our gentleman as he returned tricked out smartly from the bull-ring, and I thrashed him up the tower staircase to his rooms with the same wooden staff that I use in the Cathedral, and he can tell you if I have not a heavy hand when I am angry.  Virgin of the Sagrario!  A Luna of the Holy Metropolitan Church lowering himself to be a bull-fighter!  The canons did laugh, and even the Lord Cardinal himself, as I have been told, when they heard about the affair!  A witty beneficiary has since nicknamed him the ’Tato,’[1] and so they all call him now in the Cathedral.  So you see, brother, how much respect this rascal pays to his family.”

[Footnote 1:  Tato—­Armadillo.]

The “Silenciario"[1] attempted to annihilate the “Tato” with his glance, but this latter only smiled without paying much attention, either to his uncle’s words or looks.

[Footnote 1:  Silenciario—­Officer appointed to keep silence.]

“You would hardly believe, Gabriel,” he continued, “that this creature often wants a bit of bread, and it is for this reason he commits all these follies.  In spite of his wrong-headedness, since the age of twenty he has occupied the position of ’Perrero’[3] in the holy church, he has obtained what in better times only those could obtain who had served well and striven hard for years.  He gets his six reals a day, and as he can go freely about the church he can show the curiosities to strangers; and so with the salary and the tips he gets, he is much better off than I am.  The foreigners who visit the Cathedral, excommunicated people who look upon us as strange monkeys, and who think that anything interesting of ours is only worthy of a laugh, take a fancy to him.  The English ask him if he is a toreador, and he—­what does he want better than that!  When he sees they pay him according as he pleases them, he brings out his pack of lies, for, unfortunately, no one has any check on the deceit, and he tells them about all the great bull-fights in which he has taken part in Toledo, and all about the bulls he has killed; and these blockheads from England make a note of it in their albums, and even some coarse hand may make a sketch of this imposter’s head; all he cares for is that they should believe all his lies and give him a peseta on leaving.  It matters very little to him, if when these heretics return to their own country they spread the report that in Toledo, in the Holy Metropolitan Church of all Spain, the Cathedral servants are bull-fighters, and assist in the ceremonies of worship between the bull runs.  The sum total is, that he earns more than I do, but in spite of this he considers his employment beneath him.  And such beautiful duties, too.  To walk in the great processions before everyone, close to the Primate’s great banner, with a staff covered with red velvet to support him should he chance to fall, and wearing a robe of scarlet brocade like a cardinal.  Our Chapel-master, who knows a great deal about such things, says that when he wears that robe he looks like a certain Diente, or some name of the sort, who lived hundreds of years ago in Italy, and went down into hell, and afterwards described his journey in poetry.”