“And the priest, Father Hernandez?”
“Him, too, niña. I tell my sins to him every week,” said Juan.
“Oh, Juan, how can you?”
“Because, niña, I am still a Catholic. It is not popular to be, I know; but so long as ‘His Honor’ knows I am, and still keeps me in his service, I will be true to the religion of my fathers.”
“His Honor is too wise and too great a man to interfere in anyone’s religious beliefs,” said Catalina.
“Yet he is a man, and loves,” quietly remarked Juan, with a twinkle in his eye.
“He does love. His is a great love; it extends over all humanity. Had you lived before, Juan, and remembered it, you would understand,” replied the child, with deep pathos in her voice.
Juan laughed heartily, and said: “Pardon me, niña, but what can a child know of another life? If ‘Memory Fluid’ makes señoras viejas out of niñas, it is not good. What would homes be without the innocent coo and laughter of babies?”
“I am happier now than before I remembered, Juan. It is because you do not understand what it is to remember, that makes you say such things.”
“Maybe so; maybe so, niña, but Juan is glad he does not remember.”