The men, for their part, are making more of a stir. Some cadets
in one corner are conversing in a lively manner but in low tones,
looking around now and then to point out different persons in the room
while they laugh more or less openly among themselves. In contrast,
two foreigners dressed in white are promenading silently from one end
of the room to the other with their hands crossed behind their backs,
like the bored passengers on the deck of a ship. All the interest and
the greatest animation proceed from a group composed of two priests,
two civilians, and a soldier who are seated around a small table on
which are seen bottles of wine and English biscuits.
The soldier, a tall, elderly lieutenant with an austere countenance--
a Duke of Alva straggling behind in the roster of the Civil Guard--
talks little, but in a harsh, curt way. One of the priests, a youthful
Dominican friar, handsome, graceful, polished as the gold-mounted
eyeglasses he wears, maintains a premature gravity. He is the curate
of Binondo and has been in former years a professor in the college
of San Juan de Letran,[16] where he enjoyed the reputation of being a
consummate dialectician, so much so that in the days when the sons of
Guzman[17] still dared to match themselves in subtleties with laymen,
the able disputant B.
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