"And it is my fault he has seen you—my fault," murmured Ana. "If you would only go at once—"
"I think not; it is a good chance to watch the gentleman. If I were sure that old woman meant her hate for him—"
He stared at Polonia a moment, and then nodded his head.
"I'll take the chance," he decided, and went alone to her and pulled the cover entirely from her face.
"Friend of a daughter of many kings," he said, slowly.
She stared at him, and stumbled to her feet in salutation.
"It is true, my father, but the kings of the hills are dead; and now," pointing toward Raquel, "there will be no more in the land."
"Who knows?" said the strange padre. "There still lives a daughter; guard her better than you did her mother when I carried love messages from Estevan."
"Ai! I know you now. You have become padre, and you guard her from the heretics—the heretics, father," and she pointed toward the veranda where Don Enrico and his guest could be heard in conversation. "That accursed Americano—"
"Sh—h! quiet, you!" and he placed a hand on her arm authoritatively; "make no noise, say no words, but watch him all the time—every time when I am out of sight. Understand?"