When Lope Sanchez came home, his wife told him what had passed. He
was excessively provoked, for he lacked his wife's devotion, and had
for some time groaned in secret at the domestic visitations of the
friar. "Woman," said he, "what hast thou done? thou hast put every
thing at hazard by thy tattling."
"What!" cried the good woman, "would you forbid my disburdening my
conscience to my confessor?"
"No, wife! confess as many of your own sins as you please; but as to
this money-digging, it is a sin of my own, and my conscience is very
easy under the weight of it."
There was no use, however, in complaining; the secret was told, and,
like water spilled on the sand, was not again to be gathered. Their
only chance was, that the friar would be discreet.
The next day, while Lope Sanchez was abroad there was a humble
knocking at the door, and Fray Simon entered with meek and demure
countenance.
"Daughter," said he, "I have earnestly prayed to San Francisco,
and he has heard my prayer. In the dead of the night the saint
appeared to me in a dream, but with a frowning aspect. 'Why,' said he,
'dost thou pray to me to dispense with this treasure of the
Gentiles, when thou seest the poverty of my chapel? Go to the house of
Lope Sanchez, crave in my name a portion of the Moorish gold, to
furnish two candlesticks for the main altar, and let him possess the
residue in peace.
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