The agitation of Pepe Rey’s mind was so great that, notwithstanding his natural prudence and moderation, he was unable to conceal it.

“There!  I see that you are angry,” said Dona Perfecta, casting down her eyes and clasping her hands.  “I am very sorry.  If I had known that you would have taken it in that way, I should not have spoken to you.  Pepe, I ask your pardon.”

Hearing these words and seeing his kind aunt’s deprecating attitude, Pepe felt ashamed of the sternness of his last words, and he made an effort to recover his serenity.  The venerable Penitentiary extricated him from his embarrassing position, saying with his accustomed benevolent smile: 

“Senora Dona Perfecta, we must be tolerant with artists.  Oh, I have known a great many of them!  Those gentlemen, when they have before them a statue, a piece of rusty armor, a mouldy painting, or an old wall, forget every thing else.  Senor Don Jose is an artist, and he has visited our cathedral as the English visit it, who would willingly carry it away with them to their museums, to its last tile, if they could.  That the worshippers were praying, that the priest was elevating the Sacred Host, that the moment of supreme piety and devotion had come—­what of that?  What does all that matter to an artist?  It is true that I do not know what art is worth, apart from the sentiments which it expresses, but, in fine, at the present day, it is the custom to adore the form, not the idea.  God preserve me from undertaking to discuss this question with Senor Don Jose, who knows so much, and who, reasoning with the admirable subtlety of the moderns, would instantly confound my mind, in which there is only faith.”

“The determination which you all have to regard me as the most learned man on earth annoys me exceedingly,” said Pepe, speaking in his former hard tone.  “Hold me for a fool; for I would rather be regarded as a fool than as the possessor of that Satanic knowledge which is here attributed to me.”

Rosarito laughed, and Jacinto thought that a highly opportune moment had now arrived to make a display of his own erudition.

“Pantheism or panentheism,” he said, “is condemned by the Church, as well as by the teachings of Schopenhauer and of the modern Hartmann.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said the canon gravely, “men who pay so fervent a worship to art, though it be only to its form, deserve the greatest respect.  It is better to be an artist, and delight in the contemplation of beauty, though this be only represented by nude nymphs, than to be indifferent and incredulous in every thing.  The mind that consecrates itself to the contemplation of beauty, evil will not take complete possession of. Est Deus in nobis. Deus, be it well understood.  Let Senor Don Jose, then, continue to admire the marvels of our church; I, for one, will willingly forgive him his acts of irreverence, with all due respect for the opinions of the bishop.”