His companions saw a new Gabriel--more loquacious and more disposed to communicate to them the "new things," that were already upheaving the traditional course of their thoughts, and that even now had on many nights disturbed their sleep.
They talked, discussed and consulted Luna, so that he could clear their confused ideas, and above the voices of the men sounded the continual click, click of the sewing machine, always busy, like an echo of the universal work surging in the world, while the calm of the Infinite spread itself through the precincts of the church.
All those men, accustomed to the slow, regular, quiet duties of the church, with long periods of rest, admired the nervous activity of Sagrario.
"You will kill yourself, child," said the old organ-blower.

"I know very well what it is like, I have done something of the same sort; I blow and blow at those bellows, and when it is a mass with much music, such as Don Luis loves, I end by cursing the organ and him who invented it, for indeed it nearly breaks my arms." "Work!" said the bell-ringer with emphasis.

"Work is a punishment from God! You all know its origin.

It was the eternal penalty imposed on our first parents by the Lord when He drove them out of Paradise.

It is a chain that we must drag on for ever." "No, senor," replied the shoemaker.