try? I have been told that you
have stopped writing, but no one has told me why."

"Why? Because there is no use in invoking the muses for false and
foolish ends. A case has been made out against one man for having put
into verse a true story of Pero Grullo. I am not going to get myself
into a similar scrape. They may call me a poet, but they shall not
call me a fool."

"And can you not tell us what that true story was?"

"Yes. The poet said that the son of a lion is also a lion, and for
saying this he narrowly escaped being banished."

"Dinner is ready," announced a waiter who had been borrowed from the
Cafe Campana. The guests began to file into the dining room, not,
however, without many sighs, and even some prayers among the women,
especially the natives, that the dreaded affair would soon be over.

CHAPTER II

AT THE DINNER TABLE.

Father Sibyla wore a satisfied air. He moved along tranquilly, and
his closed, thin lips showed no signs of disdain. On the other hand,
the Franciscan was in a very bad humor. As he walked toward the table,
he kicked over the chairs which happened to be in his way and boxed the
ears of one of the cadets. The lieutenant was very solemn and grave.

The two friars instinctively started for the head of the table,
perhaps by force of habit, and, as might have been expected, they met
on opposite sides of the same chair. Then, with ponderous courtesy,
each entreated the other to sit down, giving in turn his reasons why
the other should take precedence. Every one at the table understood
how both really felt in the matter, and all knew well that the one
who did not take the coveted seat would grumble discontentedly for
the remainder of the evening. The farce proceeded something like this:

"You take it, Brother Damaso! It is for you!"

"No, you take it, Brother Sibyla!"

"You are an old friend of the family, the confessor of its deepest
mysteries; your age, your dignity, your----"

"No, that is all right as far as age goes, but, on the other hand
you are the priest of this suburb," answered Father Damaso in an
insincere tone, without, however, leaving the chair.

"As you order it, I obey," concluded Father Sibyla, making ready to
sit down.

"But I do not order it," protested the Franciscan, "I do not order it."

Father Sibyla was about to take the seat without any further regard to
the protests of his brother, when his eyes chanced to meet those of the
lieutenant. A