“What kind of girl is this? Not know death when he showeth so plainly! Where hath she been living? And I am possessed of St. Peter’s keys. I open Heaven’s gate to let the heathen out! By the bones of the saints! let him get there first! The Devil hath him!”
He picked up a withered flower lying by the bowl of the fountain, and went back to Tecetl.
“You remember how beautiful this was when taken from the vine?”
“Yes.”
“What ails it now?”
“It is dead.”
“Well, did you ever know one of these, after dying, to come back to life?”
“No.”
“No more can thy father regain his life. He, too, is dead. From what you see, he will go to dust; therefore, leave him now, and let us sit by the fountain, and talk of escape; for surely you know the way out of this.”
From the flower, she looked to the dead, and, comprehending the illustration, sat by the body, and cried. And so it happened that knowledge of death was her first lesson in life.