"Every reason. What do you think she did with the heap of gold and silver that was showered upon her by the audience?"
"What?" excitedly demanded old Miguel, who by this time had fortified himself with a fresh glass of aguardiente.
"Why, after it had been gathered up and handed to her, she, without so much as looking at it, tossed it lightly into the center of the stage and bade the musicians and stage-hands remember her when they drank to their sweethearts to-night."
Captain Forest's interest began to be aroused.
"Caramba—'tis strange!" muttered old Miguel, eyeing his glass meditatively; his head nodding slightly from the effects of too much liquor. "But what will Padre Antonio say when he hears of it? How fortunate he wasn't here to witness a sight that must have caused him the deepest humiliation. Poor man," he continued, assuming a sympathetic tone, "it is already the scandal of the town."
"Bah! what of that?" returned Carlos.
It was evident to all that the delights of the Fiesta were beginning to tell on the old man. Already it had been noted on previous occasions that an overindulgence in aguardiente usually invoked a religious frame of mind in him, but which in Miguel's case resembled rather the groping of a lost soul than the prophetic vision of the seer.
"What of that?" echoed Miguel, an ominous light flashing from his eyes. "Those golden pesos so lightly earned will just about pay for a thousand masses in order to avert excommunication and enable the Church to snatch the soul of the Chiquita from the fires of purgatory as a punishment for conduct unbecoming the ward of a priest."
"Bah! you talk like an infant, Miguel! What a sad, weary world this would be if there were only priests and churches in it and men did nothing all day long but say aves and burn candles on altars," and Carlos lightly blew a ring of smoke toward the ceiling.
"Ah, yes, perhaps—quien sabe, amigo mio?" answered the old man dryly. "But the Church is the Church."