It was the terror of the Inquisition still alive amidst this little stagnant world.
The Perrero was the only one who seemed to have no fear, and who spoke openly about the Chapter and the cardinal.

What did it matter to him! Possibly he may have wished to be turned out of "that den" to give himself up to his favourite pursuit, going to the bull-ring without any objections from the household.

Moreover, he delighted in speaking evil of the gentlemen of the Chapter, who had given him more than one cuff when he was an acolyte.
He gave nicknames to all the canons, and pointing them out one by one to Gabriel, related the most intimate secrets of their lives.

He knew the houses where each prebendary passed the evening after the choir time, and the names of all the ladies and nuns who crimped their surplices, and could tell of the fierce and deadly rivalries between these admirers of the Chapter, endeavouring to vanquish each other by the exquisite way in which they washed and ironed the canonical batiste.

As the choir were coming out he pointed out the precentor, an obese prebendary with his face covered with red spots.
"Look at him, uncle," he said to Gabriel, "that rash on his face is a record of the past.