The dismal howlings disturbed the singing of the canons, and the Tato laughed more than ever to see behind the iron railing of the choir, the angry gesture of the good Esteban threatening him with his wooden staff.
"Uncle," said the depraved Perrero one evening, "you, who think you know the Cathedral so well, have you ever seen the lively things in it ?" The wink of his eye, and the gesture accompanying the words showed that the things might very well be more than lively.
"I am always very much interested," he went on, "with the jokes the ancients allowed themselves.

Come along, uncle, it will amuse you for a little; you, like all those who think they know the Cathedral, will have passed many times by these things without noticing them." Going along the outside of the choir, the Tato led Gabriel to the front opposite the door del Perdon.

Under the great medallion, which serves as a back to the Mount Tabor, the work of Berruguete, opens the little chapel of the Virgin of the Star.

"Look well at that image, uncle.

Is there another like it in all the world?
She is a courtezan, a siren who would drive men mad if she only fluttered her eyelids." For Gabriel this was no new discovery; from his childhood he had known that beautiful and sensual figure, with its worldly smile, its rounded outlines, and its eyes with their expression of wanton gaiety as though she were just going to dance.
The child in her arms was also laughing and placing his hand on the bosom of the beautiful woman, as though he intended to tear the covering from her breast.