So one day when the Obrero and I were biting our nails, seeing that this miserable thousand and odd pesetas (God forgive me!) that this unhappy State allows us, could not possibly suffice for our monthly expenses, I propounded my idea.

Now, could you believe that some of the gentlemen in the Chapter opposed it?
Some of the young canons spoke of the sellers in the Temple, you know who they were--certain Jews who drove the Lord out with scourges in their hand, for I know not what misdemeanours.

The older ones said the Cathedral had always had its treasures open to all for centuries, and so it ought to go on.

All the gentlemen were quite right, but you cannot do anything with a stupid canon, and at last the defunct cardinal, who is now in the enjoyment of God (another tug at his cap) interfered, and the Chapter were obliged, though with much grumbling, to accept the reform, and they ended by praising it.

In all bitter there is a sweet! Do you know how much money I handed to the Lord Cardinal last year?
More than three thousand duros, nearly as much as this sinful State allows us, and this without prejudice to anybody.
The public pays, they admire and they go; in any case they are only birds of passage who come once, and when they go they do not return.
And what are four wretched pesetas, when for that money you can see one of the most glorious churches in Christendom, the cradle of Spanish Catholicism, the Cathedral of Toledo!" The two men were walking in the cloister on the side warmed by the sun at that early hour, the cleric had put away his ticket books, and his eyes were fixed on Gabriel, who thought that to smile in his enigmatic way, which Don Antolin accepted as assent, quite met the situation, and it encouraged him to continue his confidences.
"Ay, Gabriel! You cannot think that my heavy duties can be fulfilled without hard work; the Cardinal trusts me, the Chapter distinguish me with their regard, and the Obrero has no other hope but in my assistance.