“But, tell me, quick––Diego may be here any moment––why did he send Ricardo for you?”
The girl became very serious. “Anita dear, Padre Diego says I am his child.”
“What!”
“Yes––his daughter––that he is my father. But––is it really so, Anita?”
“Madre de Dios!” cried the woman. “What a beast!––what a beast! He saw you in Simití when he was last there––and you are now a beautiful––No, child, you are not his daughter! The wretch lies––he is a sink of lies! He is rotten with sin! Oh, Dios!”
“Why, no, Anita dear, he is not a beast––we must love him, for he is God’s child, too,” said Carmen, patting the woman’s wet cheek with her soft hand.
“He!––God’s child!” She broke into a shrill of laughter. “Carita, he is Satan himself! You do not know him!”
“I don’t mean that what you think you see is God’s child, Anita dear; but that what you think you see stands for God’s child, and isn’t real. And if we know that, why, we will see the real child of God––the real man––and not what you call a beast.”
Ana apparently did not hear. Her thought was with the future. Carmen looked about the room. “Oh, Anita,” she exclaimed, “what a beautiful place, and what beautiful things you have!” She rubbed the tile floor with her bare foot. “Why, Anita dear, it is just like the palaces Padre Josè has told me about!” She walked around the room, touching the various toilet articles on the dresser, passing her hands carefully over the upholstered chairs, and uttering exclamations of wonder and delight. “Anita––Anita dear! Why, it is a palace! Oh! oh! oh!”