Late that afternoon, while the tropical rain was descending in torrents, Rosendo staggered into the parish house, where Carmen and Josè were absorbed in their work. “Padre!” he gasped, “Loado sea Dios!” as his eyes fell upon the girl. Then he sank to the floor in utter exhaustion.
“Rosendo! what is it?” cried Josè, bending over him in apprehension, while Carmen stood lost in wonder.
“Padre Diego––!” cried Rosendo, raising himself up on his elbow. “Has he been here?”
“Padre Diego!” cried both Josè and the girl in astonishment. Instinctively Josè’s arm went about the child. Rosendo dragged himself to a chair and sank limply into it.
“Then, Padre, he will come. He is in Simití. He is no longer a priest!”
Slowly the story came out, bit by bit. Josè listened in horror. Carmen’s face was deeply serious.
“Bien, Padre,” said Rosendo, concluding his dramatic and 273 disconnected recital, “I plowed through the water––Caramba! I knew not at what moment I should feel the jaws of a cayman seize upon me! But the Virgin had heard my prayer. I must offer a candle this night. But I did not land at Juncal. It was some half league farther west. Bien, I was then glad, for had I appeared in the village, all would have said that I had murdered Diego! And so I struck out along the trail that skirts the lake, and followed it around until I came here. Caramba! but see how my feet are cut! And the rain––Hombre! it beat me down––I fell again and again! And then, the fear that I was too late––Ah, Dios! But she is safe––Caramba! the Virgin be praised!”
“But, Rosendo,” said Josè anxiously, “where can Diego––”
“He is here, Caramba! in Simití! Hombre! but I shall set out at once and search every house! And he shall do well if he escape this time!”