The avaricious and despotic priest lowered his eyes before them, smilingly anxious to make himself agreeable.

This they owed to the master, for he was now the true ruler of the upper cloister.

Don Antolin consulted him before making any arrangements, and his ugly niece smiled on Gabriel as the daughters of the conquered might smile on a triumphant hero.
They now no longer hid themselves in the bell-ringer's house for their meetings; they formed a circle in the cloister during the evenings, discussing the audacious doctrines taught by Luna, without now being intimidated by the religious atmosphere.

They sat with the look of lords, surrounding their master, while in the opposite gallery walked Silver Stick like a black phantom, reading his book of hours, and casting now and then an uneasy glance on the group.

Even his ancient vassal, the chaplain of the nuns, had dared to leave him to go and listen to Gabriel.
Don Antolin with the keenness of his ecclesiastical training, guessed the intensity of the evil produced by Luna.