“That matter rests between her and her conscience,” argued my aunt. “Probably she will be very careful in the discharge of her new duties, now that she is married. She never had any before; some improprieties can be pardoned her.”
“But she is a regular weather-vane and will continue to be so, for it is innate in her. A nice one she is, to lead on that poor old gentleman to such an extreme! I assure you, your step-mother is a rare bird. No one knows what the future will bring forth.”
“Well, God is over all. Let us hope that the grace of the sacrament may do its office.”
“Do you believe in the grace of the sacrament?” I asked, remembering what Luis had said, and smiling, in spite of myself, at her words, which were in such marked contrast to my own ideas and convictions, though, coming from her lips, they seemed to me the very formula of propriety and moral beauty.
“What a question! Why shouldn’t I believe in it? Fine I’d look if I didn’t! When God instituted that sacrament he pledged Himself to help with His grace all who avail themselves of it. Without such aid marriage would not be possible.”
“Grace consists in loving each other, Carmen,” I murmured, drawing near to her and fixing my eyes on hers. I did not desire to convince her, or to lead her astray, God knows, but, on the contrary, I wanted her to display all the absurdities of her theological learning and brandish before me, like a warlike Amazon, the well-tempered weapons with which she guarded her virtue. But I reckoned without my host, because Carmen would not engage in controversy. She only replied, pleasantly:
“It is only natural that you should think that way, being only a boy, and having such ideas as you do. I am very sorry that you are not more religious. With years you will gain experience and will be able to judge better. Your head will get settled at last!”
“Well, Carmiña, suppose I only need a word from you to settle it? Do you say that that about loving each other is all nonsense? Well, I’ll believe it if you say so. But at least you cannot deny that in order to be happy, no matter how holy the married pair may be, they must have some affection for each other; must at least not hate each other or be mutually repugnant. Am I not right?”
Carmiña turned pale, and her eyelashes quivered slightly. She suddenly looked at me with a pained expression as though saying: “That is a forbidden subject and I am surprised that you should allude to it.”
I carried away from that brief dialogue, broken off by the coming in of my uncle, a greater supply of hope. My uncle entered hastily, with a very abrupt and surprised air. As soon as he saw his wife he drew a letter from his pocket.