“You see these green tickets?” said he to Gabriel.  “These are the dearest, they cost two pesetas each.  With these you can see everything that is most important—­the treasury, the chapel of the Virgin, and the Ochavo with its relics which are unique in the world.  The other cathedrals are dirt compared with ours, and their relics lies, many of them invented on account of the envy that our Holy Metropolitan Church inspired.  You see these red ones?  These only cost six reals, and with them you can visit the sacristies, the wardrobe, the chapels of Don Alvaro de Luna and of Cardinal Albornoz, and the Chapter-house, with its two rows of portraits of the archbishops which are wonders.  Who would not scrape their purse to see such prodigies?”

Afterwards he added, showing the last ticket book with contempt: 

“These white ones are only worth two reals.  They are to see the giants and the bells.  We sell a great many of those to the lower class who come to the Cathedral on feast days.  Could you believe it, but many of the Protestants and Jews call this a robbery?  The other day three soldiers came from the Academy with some country folks to see the giants, and they made quite a scandalous scene because we would not let them in for an old song.  As if we were asking their charity!  Many of them commit all sorts of nuisances about the Cathedral, just as if they were heretics, to say nothing of their drawing all sorts of abominable things and writing obscene words on the walls of the staircase.  What shocking times, eh, Gabriel?  What shocking times!”

Luna smiled silently, and Silver Stick, encouraged by what seemed to him acquiescence, went on with pride: 

“And about these tickets, I invented them—­that is to say, I am not really their inventor, but their introduction into this house is owing to me.  You have travelled so much, and must have seen in those foreign countries that everything is shown on payment.  The Lord Cardinal before this one, who is now in blessed glory (and he raised his hand to his skull cap) had also travelled a great deal—­he was quite a ‘modern,’ and had he lived would have ended by putting electric light in the naves of the Cathedral.  I heard him on one occasion speak of what was done in the museums and other interesting places in Rome and other towns; unrestricted entrance at all hours—­on payment, an immense convenience to the public, who required to get no tickets beforehand to visit these things.  So one day when the Obrero and I were biting our nails, seeing that this miserable thousand and odd pesetas (God forgive me!) that this unhappy State allows us, could not possibly suffice for our monthly expenses, I propounded my idea.  Now, could you believe that some of the gentlemen in the Chapter opposed it?  Some of the young canons spoke of the sellers in the Temple, you know who they were—­certain Jews who drove the Lord out with scourges in their hand, for I know not what misdemeanours.  The older ones said the Cathedral