Josè glanced down at Carmen, who had been listening with a tense, rapt expression on her face. What impression did this strange story make upon her? She looked up at the priest with a little laugh.
“Let us go in, Padre,” she said.
“No!” commanded Rosendo, seizing her hand.
“Are you afraid, Rosendo?” queried the amused Josè.
“I––I would––rather not,” the old man replied hesitatingly. “The Virgin has sealed it.” Physical danger was temperamental to this noble son of the jungle; yet the religious superstition which Spain had bequeathed to this oppressed land still shackled his limbs.
As they descended the hill Carmen seized an opportunity to speak to Josè alone. “Some day, Padre,” she whispered, “you and I will open the door and let the bad angel out, won’t we?”
Josè pressed her little hand. He knew that the door of his own mind had swung wide at her bidding in these few days, and many a bad angel had gone out forever.