He smiled again and put his hands on her shoulders. He assured her that he would not hurt her. However, he soon began to fondle her, rubbing her shoulders and neck with his fore-fingers. She said nothing. She stood still as if frozen, her heart jumping inside her while the choir crescendoed into the finale of their 'Hymn To The Virgins!' He reckoned her, his sparkling evil eyes sized-to-mind and personal passions, her plump and full mouth that glistened with the juices of youth.
"Sh-h-h-h!" he commanded her in mock gentleness. "You are not here to be punished, my darling child. You are here to be blessed."
By the gentle, fatherly sound of his voice, he quelled the fright from her, and from her confused, unsure expression, emerged a trifle, but still apparently trusting smile.
"Bless me, Holiness? I do not understand. Why bless me? I am no one!" she told him in a half-happy, half-honoured tone.
He smiled at her as he affectionately took her dainty chin into his hand and told her the reason for her being brought to him.
"But you are someone, darling Mercedes. You have been chosen on this day, from all the fair maidens of this land, to mother my Holy Child."
She felt cold again and went aback. His hand dropped away from her chin as he slid the veil off her head. She slowly shook her head and touched her uncovered, golden-fleeced hair, unable to believe that her god would ravish her. And she tried in every way, to prevent what she feared would happen and she pleaded with him.
"My god, I cannot! I am promised to another, and to him I am to give my chastity. Forgive me, Most High Lord. The honour is great but I cannot accept." she looked down to her feet and waited to be dismissed. She had thought that her appeal to him about her betrothal, would touch him, but instead he was angered by her disobedience to his charge.
"You can't refuse, my child! To refuse suggests that you are possessed by a demon of vast impurity!" his voice echoed throughout her mind. She was frightened again and did, so desperately want to leave but she had to listen.
"To refuse is to pronounce death upon yourself, and you do not want to die … DO YOU, my darling Mercedes?"