“Madre de Dios!” he muttered, falling heavily into a chair, “but had I known you were here, little rosebud, I should have tried to keep sober.” He reached out to grasp her; but she eluded him and went quickly to the open window, where she stood looking down into the street below. The morning sunlight, streaming into the room, engulfed her in its golden flood and transmuted the child of earth into a creature divinely radiant, despite the torn gown and stains of river travel.
“Bien, carísíma,” the man wheedled in a small, caressing voice, “where is your greeting to your glad padre? Dios mío!” he muttered, his eyes roving over her full figure, “but the Virgin herself was never more lovely! Come, daughter,” he purred, extending his arms; “come to a father’s heart that now, praise the Saints! shall ache no more for its lost darling.”
The girl faced about and looked at him for a few moments. What her glance conveyed, the man was utterly incapable of understanding. Then she drew up a chair that stood near the window, and sinking into it, buried her face in her hands.
“Caramba, my smile of heaven! but why weep?” chirped 242 Diego, affecting surprise. “Is it thus you celebrate your homecoming? Or are these, perchance, fitting tears of joy? Bien, your padre’s doting heart itself weeps that its years of loneliness are at last ended.” He held the sleeve of his gown to his eyes and sniffed affectedly.
The girl looked up quickly. “I am not weeping,” she said.
“Bien, and what then?” he pursued.
“I was just knowing,” she answered slowly, “that I was not afraid––that God was everywhere, even right here––and that He would not let any harm come to me.”
Diego’s eyes widened. Then he burst into a coarse laugh. “Hombre! and you ask Him to protect you from your adoring father! Come here, little wench. You are in your own home. Why be afraid?” He again held out his arms to her.
“I am not afraid––now,” she answered softly. “But––I do not think God will let me come to you. If you were really my father, He would.”
The man’s mouth gaped in astonishment. A fleeting sense of shame swept through his festering mind. Then the lustful meanness of his corrupted soul welled up anew, and he laughed brutally. The idea was delightfully novel; the girl beautifully audacious; the situation piquantly amusing. He would draw her out to his further enjoyment. “So,” he observed parenthetically, “I judge you are on quite familiar terms with God, eh?”