“Do not be uneasy, Padre,” he said reassuringly. “I alone heard you. Whenever you began to talk I would not let others listen; and I stayed with you every day and night. But––it is just because of what you said in the calentura that I am speaking to you now of the little Carmen.”
Because of what he had said in his delirium! Josè’s astonishment grew apace.
“Padre, many bad priests have been sent to Simití. It has been our curse. Priests who stirred up revolution elsewhere, who committed murder, and ruined the lives of fair women, have been put upon us. And when in Badillo I learned that you had been sent to our parish, I was filled with fear. I––I lost a daughter, Padre––”
The good man hesitated again. Then, as a look of stern resolution spread over his strong, dark face, he continued:
“It was Padre Diego! We drove him out of Simití four years ago. But my daughter, my only child, went with him.” The great frame shook with emotion, while he hurried on disconnectedly.
“Padre, the priest Diego said that the little Carmen should become a Sister––a nun––that she must be sent to the convent in Mompox––that she belonged to the Church, and the Church would some day have her. But, by the Holy Virgin, the Church shall not have her! And I myself will slay her before this altar rather than let such as Padre Diego lay their slimy paws upon the angel child!”
Rosendo leaped to his feet and began to pace the floor with great strides. The marvelous frame of the man, in which beat a heart too big for the sordid passions of the flesh, trembled as he walked. Josè watched him in mute admiration, mingled with astonishment and a heightened sense of expectancy. Presently Rosendo returned and seated himself again beside the priest.
“Padre, I have lived in terror ever since Diego left Simití. For myself I do not fear, for if ever I meet with the wretch I shall wring his neck with my naked hands! But––for the little Carmen––Dios! they might steal her at any time! There are men here who would do it for a few pesos! And how could I prevent it? I pray daily to the Virgin to protect her. She––she is the light of my life. I watch over her hourly. I neglect my hacienda, that I may guard her––and I am a poor man, and cannot afford not to work.”
The man buried his face in his huge hands and groaned aloud. Josè remained pityingly silent, knowing that Rosendo’s heaving heart must empty itself.