“Carmen, child––you do not understand––you are too young, and as yet you have had no experience with––with the world! You must trust me now!”
“I do not trust you, Padre,” she said sadly. “I can’t trust anybody who always sees things that are not so.”
“Carmen––you are in danger––and you do not comprehend––” cried the desperate man.
“I am not in danger––and I do understand––a great deal better than you do, Padre. Now let me go––you are afraid! People who are afraid die of the plague!” The irony of her words sank into his soul.
Juan looked in at the door. Josè rose hastily. “Did you meet Doña Maria?” he asked.
“No, señor,” the lad replied.
“She is searching for you––have you your machete?”
“Yes, Padre, I have just come back from the island, where I was cutting wood.”
“Good, then! Remain here with me. I need you––or may.”
He went to the door and looked eagerly down the street. “Ah!” he exclaimed with relief, “here come Doña Maria and Lázaro! Now, friends,” he began, when they were assembled before him, “grave danger threatens––”