Manuel’s ears reddened.

“Etiquette is not my strong point, Monseñor. My teachers taught me to be polite to God, not to men.”

“You went there with your mind set against the owner of the house. Stories are told about Leonardo Cifuentes, tales of exploits that are not very edifying. But what are we to do? It is not for us to judge, but to pardon.”

“Very convenient. . . as long as we are not the offended parties.”

“And when we are, we know what we must do: turn the other cheek.”

“Is that a warning, Don Alfonso? Very well: choose the cheek you prefer and start delivering the lesson. Last night I made a mistake.”

“Don’t exaggerate; it was no more than a lapse in tact.”

“With everyone in general or with one person in particular?”

“Very particularly with Ulloa’s wife.”

Manuel frowned; he did not recognize the name. Don Alfonso had to add, “Julia Acevedo—the woman they call La Alazana. You were very harsh in your criticism of her.”

Like a bolt of lightning the image evoked by that name flashed through Manuel’s mind: the insolent neckline, the flaming hair, the frank laugh.

“And with good reason. Her immodesty. . . .”

“You must learn to make the distinction, my son. Immodesty, yes, if this were just any woman. But in a lady it is elegance.”

“And what proof do we have that La Alazana is a lady? Not her appearance or her manners, certainly.”

The bishop closed his mouth, disconcerted. For him Julia Acevedo’s social standing was so obvious that he was unable to substantiate it. After a few seconds of searching, he replied, “The best families in Ciudad Real receive her.”

Manuel smiled sarcastically.

“They do not receive her. And if they did they would be as gullible as you are, Monseñor. Who is this ambitious upstart? No one knows her.”

“She’s the wife of a gentleman.”

“Is he a gentleman or a swindler trying to pass himself off as a gentleman?”

“What makes you think that?”

The young man shrugged, “A simple hunch.”

“A rash judgment, Manuel.”

“Can I help it if things that are strange look strange to me? And that pair is strange.”

“Fernando de Ulloa’s position is clear: he is a civil servant who occupies a post of some importance in the administration.”

“Which isn’t enough to make the people of Ciudad Real receive him like the prodigal son, kill the fatted calf and, to top it all off, believe every story he tells them.”

“Coletos are not a hospitable people.”

“Nevertheless, their reserve breaks down once in a while. Not out of hospitality: out of boredom. Whatever disrupts the routine or provides a distraction is welcome. And La Alazana knows how to ingratiate herself—she bedazzles the men.”

Don Alfonso reddened and lowered his eyes. With the tip of his knife, he drew uneven lines on the tablecloth.