The day after the departure of the doctor and the doctora, Ibarra returned to the pueblo. He hastened to the house of Captain Tiago to tell Maria he had been reconciled to the Church. Aunt Isabel, who was fond of the young fellow, and anxious for his marriage with her niece, was filled with joy. Captain Tiago was not at home.

“Come in!” Aunt Isabel cried in her bad Castilian. “Maria, CrisÓstomo has returned to favor with the Church; the archbishop has disexcommunicated him!”

But CrisÓstomo stood still, the smile froze on his lips, the words he was to say to Maria fled from his mind. Leaning against the balcony beside her was Linares; on the floor lay leafless roses and sampagas. The Spaniard was making garlands with the flowers and leaves from the vines; Maria Clara, buried in her fauteuil, pale and thoughtful, was playing with an ivory fan, less white than her slender hands.

At sight of Ibarra Linares paled, and carmine tinted the cheeks of Maria Clara. She tried to rise, but was not strong enough; she lowered her eyes and let her fan fall.

For some seconds there was an embarrassing silence; then Ibarra spoke.

“I have this moment arrived, and came straight here. You are better than I thought you were.”

One would have said Maria had become mute: her eyes still lowered, she did not say a word in reply. Ibarra looked searchingly at Linares; the timid young man bore the scrutiny with haughtiness.

“I see my arrival was not expected,” he went on slowly. “Pardon me, Maria, that I did not have myself announced. Some day I can explain to you—for we shall still see each other—surely!”

At these last words the girl raised toward her fiancÉ her beautiful eyes full of purity and sadness, so suppliant and so sweet that Ibarra stood still in confusion.

“May I come to-morrow?” he asked after a moment.

“You know that to me you are always welcome,” she said in a weak voice.

Ibarra left, calm in appearance, but a tempest was in his brain and freezing cold in his heart. What he had just seen and comprehended seemed to him incomprehensible. Was it doubt, inconstancy, betrayal?

“Oh, woman!” he murmured.

Without knowing where he went, he arrived at the ground where the school was going up. SeÑor Juan hailed him with delight, and showed him what had been done since he went away.

With surprise Ibarra saw Elias among the workmen; the helmsman saluted him, as did the others, and at the same time made him understand that he had something to say to him.

“SeÑor Juan,” said Ibarra, “will you bring me the list of workmen?” SeÑor Juan disappeared, and Ibarra approached Elias, who was lifting a great stone and loading it on a cart.

“If you can, seÑor,” said the helmsman, “give me an hour of conversation, there is something grave of which I want to talk with you. Will you go on the lake early this evening in my boat?”

Ibarra gave a sign of assent and Elias moved away. SeÑor Juan brought the list, but Ibarra searched it in vain for the name of the helmsman.