Pepe Rey felt a cold chill strike through him.
“Kiss them,” said the young girl imperiously.
The mathematician kissed the cold feet of the holy image.
“Pepe,” then cried the young girl, pressing her cousin’s hand ardently between her own, “do you believe in God?”
“Rosario! What are you saying? What absurdities are you imagining?” responded her cousin, perplexed.
“Answer me.”
Pepe Rey felt drops of moisture on his hands.
“Why are you crying?” he said, greatly disturbed. “Rosario, you are killing me with your absurd doubts. Do I believe in God? Do you doubt it?”
“I do not doubt it; but they all say that you are an atheist.”
“You would suffer in my estimation, you would lose your aureole of purity—your charm—if you gave credit to such nonsense.”