"To-morrow Your Excellency will throw the wand into the fire to warm yourself with it in the winter of life, and will then take a portfolio in the Ministry," added Father Sibyla. "Psh! Yes ... no.... To be a Minister is not precisely my ideal. The unexpected always happens, though. A little villa in the north of Spain to pass the summer in, a mansion in Madrid, and some possessions in Andalusia for the winter.... We will live remembering our dear Philippines.... Of me Voltaire will not say: 'Nous n'avons jamais été chez ces peuples que pour nous y enrichir et pour les calomnier.'" The Government employees thought that His Excellency intended a joke and they began to laugh to make a show of appreciating it. The friars imitated them since they did not know that Voltaire was the Volta-i-ré whom they had so often cursed and condemned to Hades. Father Sibyla, however, recognized the name and assumed a serious air, supposing that the Alcalde had uttered some heresy. Father Dámaso was waddling down the road. He was half smiling, but in such a malignant manner, that on seeing him, Ibarra, who was in the act of speaking, lost the thread of his remarks. All were surprised to see Father Dámaso, but, excepting Ibarra, they greeted him with marks of pleasure. They had already reached the last course of the dinner, and the champagne was foaming in the glasses. Father Dámaso showed a little nervousness in his smile when he saw Maria Clara seated on the right of Crisostomo. But, taking a chair by the side of the Alcalde, he asked in the midst of a significant silence: "Were you not talking about something, señores? Continue!" "We were drinking a toast," replied the Alcalde. "Señor Ibarra was mentioning those who had aided him in his philanthropic enterprise and was speaking of the architect when Your Reverence...." "Well, I don't understand architecture," interrupted Father Dámaso, "but architects and the dunces who go to them make me laugh! You have an example right here. I drew the plan for a church and it has been constructed perfectly: so an English jeweler who was one day a guest at the convent told me. To draught a plan, one need have but a small degree of intelligence." "However," replied the Alcalde, seeing that Ibarra was silent, "when we are dealing with certain edifices, for example a school, we need a skilled man (perito)." "He who needs a perito is a perrito (little dog)!" exclaimed Father Dámaso, with a scoff. "One would have to be more of a brute than the natives, who erect their own houses, if he did not know how to build four walls and put a covering over them. That's all that a school house is." All looked toward Ibarra. But the young man, even if he did look pale, kept on conversing with Maria Clara. "But Your Reverence should consider...."