“What is my opinion! _Que sé yo_?” said the old man, shrugging up his shoulders still higher than on the former occasion; “but I will tell you. I think, on consideration, that it is quite right and proper; why not? Let any one pay a visit to my church, and look at her as she stands there, _tan bonita_, _tan guapita_ {249a}—so well dressed and so genteel—with such pretty colours, such red and white, and he would scarcely ask me why _Maria Santísima_ should not be adored. Moreover, _Don Jorgito mio_, this is a church matter, and forms an important part of the church system.” “And now, with respect to carnal misdemeanours. Did you take much cognizance of them?” “Amongst the laity, not much; we, however, kept a vigilant eye upon our own body; but, upon the whole, were rather tolerant in these matters, knowing that the infirmities of human nature are very great indeed. We rarely punished, save in cases where the glory of the church and loyalty to _Maria Santísima_ made punishment absolutely imperative.” “And what cases might those be?” I demanded. “I allude to the desecration of dovecotes, _Don Jorge_, and the introduction therein of strange flesh, for purposes neither seemly nor convenient.” “Your reverence will excuse me for not yet perfectly understanding.” “I mean, _Don Jorge_, certain acts of flagitiousness practised by the clergy in lone and remote _palomares_ in olive-grounds and gardens; actions denounced, I believe, by the holy Pablo in his first letter to Pope Sixtus. {249b} You understand me now, _Don Jorge_, for you are learned in church matters.” “I think I understand you,” I replied.