“I never knew my earthly father,” replied Carmen in a low voice.
“But you have admitted that it might have been this Diego, have you not?”
“It might have been,” returned the girl, looking off absently toward the high windows.
“Did he not claim you as his daughter?” pursued the lawyer.
“Yes,” softly.
“Now,” continued Ellis, “that being reasonably settled, is it not also true that you used the claim of possessing this mine, La Libertad, as a pretext for admission to society here in New York?”
The girl did not answer, but only smiled pityingly at him. He, too, had bartered his soul; and in her heart there rose a great sympathy for him in his awful mesmerism.
“And that you claimed to be an Inca princess?” went on the merciless lawyer.
“Answer!” admonished the judge, looking severely down upon the silent girl.
Carmen sighed, and drew her gaze away from the windows. She was weary, oh, so weary of this unspeakable mockery. And yet she was there to prove her God.