While his house was being set in order under the direction of Rosendo, Josè visited the church with the Alcalde to formulate plans for its immediate repair and renovation. As he surveyed the ancient pile and reflected that it stood as a monument to the inflexible religious convictions of his own distant progenitors, the priest’s sensibilities were profoundly stirred. How little he knew of that long line of illustrious ancestry which preceded him! He had been thrust from under the parental wing at the tender age of twelve; but he could not recall that even before that event his father had ever made more than casual mention of the family. Indeed, in the few months since arriving on ancestral soil Josè had gathered up more of the threads which bound him to the ancient house of Rincón than in all the years which preceded. Had he himself only been capable of the unquestioning acceptance of religious dogma which those old Conqueros and early forbears exhibited, 31 to what position of eminence in Holy Church might he not already have attained, with every avenue open to still greater preferment! How happy were his dear mother then! How glorious their honored name!––
With a sigh the priest roused himself and strove to thrust these disturbing thoughts from his mind by centering his attention upon the work in hand. Doña Maria came to him for permission to take the moldy vestments from the sacristía to her house to clean them. The Alcalde, bustling about, panting and perspiring, was distributing countless orders among his willing assistants. Carmen, who throughout the morning had been everywhere, bubbling with enthusiasm, now appeared at the church door. As she entered the musty, ill-smelling old building she hesitated on the threshold, her childish face screwed into an expression of disgust.
“Come in, little one; I need your inspiration,” called Josè cheerily.
The child approached, and slipped her hand into his. “Padre Rosendo says this is God’s house,” she commented, looking up at Josè. “He says you are going to talk about God here––in this dirty, smelly old place! Why don’t you talk about Him out of doors?”
Josè was becoming innured to the embarrassment which her direct questions occasioned. And he was learning not to dissemble in his replies.
“It is because the people want to come here, dear one; it is their custom.”
Would the people believe that the wafer and wine could be changed into the flesh and blood of Jesus elsewhere––even in Nature’s temple?
“But I don’t want to come here!” she asseverated.
“That was a naughty thing to say to the good Cura, child!” interposed Don Mario, who had overheard the girl’s remark. “You see, Padre, how we need a Cura here to save these children; otherwise the Church is going to lose them. They are running pretty wild, and especially this one. She is already dedicated to the Church; but she will have to learn to speak more reverently of holy things if she expects to become a good Sister.”
The child looked uncomprehendingly from, one to the other.