“Caramba, yes! And I try to be like her. But whenever danger threatens her, the very devils seize me, and I am no longer myself.”
“Yes, yes; I know. But will not her God protect her? Can not we trust her to Him?” Josè spoke with the conviction of right, however inconsistent his past conduct might have been.
“True, Padre––and I must try to love Diego––I know––though I hate him as the devil hates the cross! Carmen would say that he was used by bad thoughts, wouldn’t she?”
“Just so. She would not see the man, but the impersonal thought that seems to use him. And I believe she knows how to meet that kind of thought.”
“I know it, Padre. Bien, I must try to love him. I will try. And––Padre, whenever he comes into my mind I will try to think of him as God’s child––though I know he isn’t!”
Josè laughed loudly at this. “Hombre!” he exclaimed. “You must not think of the human Diego as God’s child! You must always think of the real child of God for which this human concept, Diego, stands in your consciousness. Do you understand me?”
“No, Padre. But perhaps I can learn. I will try. But Diego shall live. And––Bien, now let us talk about the company of militia. But here comes the Alcalde. Caramba! what does he want?”
With much oily ceremony and show of affection, Don Mario greeted the pair.
“I bring a message from Padre Diego,” he announced pompously, after the exchange of courtesies. “Bien, it is quite unfortunate that our friend Rosendo feels so hard toward him, especially as Don Diego has so long entrusted Carmen to Rosendo’s care. But––his letter, Señor Padre,” placing a folded paper in Josè’s hand.
Silently, but with swelling indignation, Josè read: