She spread a light shawl upon the tile floor near the window and lay down upon it, drawing a lace mantilla over her face to protect it from the mosquitoes. “Santa Virgen”, she murmured repeatedly, “pray the blessed Saviour to protect her to-morrow––pray for her, Madre de Dios––pray for her!”
The piercing shriek of a steamboat whistle roused the woman just as the first harbingers of dawn spread over the river a crimson flush that turned it into a stream of blood. The child was asleep. Ana bent over her and left a kiss on her forehead. Then she stole out of the room and into the study. Padre Diego lay sunk in his chair like a monster toad. The woman threw him a look of utter loathing, and then hastily descended into the patio. Ricardo lay under the platano tree, sleeping heavily. She roused him with a kick.
“Up, man!” she cried, shaking him by the shoulder. “Padre Diego sends you this money, and bids you go. He is well satisfied with your work.” She held out a roll of pesos.
The man, after much vigorous persuasion, got heavily to his feet. “Caramba, señorita!” he muttered in a dazed voice. “That last tragito––it was a bit too much, no? But––Bien, I would see the good Padre. Caramba, my poor head! What rum! But, señorita, do me the great favor to ask the good Padre to see me one little moment. I must deliver this letter to him.” He fumbled in his wallet and drew out an envelope.
“He will not see you, Ricardo. He––”
“Caramba!” ejaculated the man loudly, as his senses returned. “But I believe there is something wrong here! Bien, now I shall see the Padre! I am responsible to him!” He pushed the woman aside and entered the house.
Ana started after him, and seized his arm. A scuffle ensued, and Ricardo’s voice was loud and shrill as they reached the stairs. The woman clung to him desperately. “Ricardo––anything you ask––double the amount, if you will go! Leave the house––I will tell the Padre––I will give him the letter––”
“Caramba, but I will see him myself!” shouted the lightheaded Ricardo.
“Dios y diablo!” A heavy voice rolled down from above. “Bien, enamorada, is this the paramour whom you hid in your room last night? Caramba, you might have chosen a handsomer one!”