"No, Padre," she answered quietly, "I do not want to come to you. But I want to talk to you--"
"_Dios y diablo_! enough of your gab! _Caramba_! with a Venus before me do you think I yearn for a sermon? _Hombre_! delay it, delay it--"
"Padre," she interrupted, "you do not see _me._ You are looking only at your bad thoughts of me."
"Ha! my thoughts, eh?" His laugh resembled the snort of an animal.
"Yes, Padre--and they are _very_ bad thoughts, too--they don"t come from G.o.d, and you are _so_ foolish to let them use you the way you do.
Why do you, Padre? for you don"t have to. And you know you see around you only the thoughts that you have been thinking. Why don"t you think good thoughts, and so see only good things?"
"Now Mary bless my soul!" he exclaimed in mock surprise. "Can it be that I don"t see a plump little witch before me, but only my bad thoughts, eh? Ha! ha! _Caramba_! that is good! _Bien_, then," he coaxed, "come to your poor, deluded padre and let him learn that you are only a thing of thought, and not the most enchanting little piece of flesh that ever caused a Saint to fall!"
The girl sat silent before him. Her smile had fled, and in its place sadness and pity were written large upon her wistful face.
"Come, my little bundle of thought," he coaxed, holding out his fat, hairy arms.
"No, Padre," the girl answered firmly.
"_Na_, then, still afraid, eh?" he taunted, with rising anger.
"No, Padre; to be afraid would mean that I didn"t understand G.o.d."
"Ha! Then come to me and prove that you do understand Him, eh?" he suggested eagerly. "_Caramba_! why do you sit there like a mummy? Are you invoking curses on the bald pate of your desolate father?"
"No, Padre; I am thanking G.o.d all the time that He is here, and that He will not let you hurt me."
The man"s l.u.s.t-inflamed eyes narrowed and the expression on his evil face became more sinister. "_Maldita_!" he growled, "will you come hither, or must I--"
"No." She shook her head slowly, and her heavy curls glistened in the sunlight. "No, Padre, G.o.d will not let me come to you."
Panting and cursing softly, the man got slowly to his feet. "_Madre de Dios_!" he muttered; "then we will see if your G.o.d will let me come to you!"
Carmen rose and stood hesitant. Her lips moved rapidly, though no sound came from them. They were forming the words of the psalmist, "In G.o.d have I put my trust: I will not be afraid what man can do unto me." It was a verse Jose had taught her long since, when his own heart was bursting with apprehension.
Diego stumbled heavily toward the child. She turned quickly as if to flee. He thrust out his hand and clutched her dress. The flimsy calico, frayed and worn, tore its full length, and the gown fell to the floor. She stopped and turned to face the man. Her white body glistened in the clear sunlight like a marble statue.
_"Por el amor de Dios_!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the priest, straightening up and regarding her with dull, blinking eyes. Then, like a tiger pouncing upon a fawn, he seized the unresisting girl in his arms and staggered back to his chair.
"_Caramba! Caramba_!" he exclaimed, holding her with one arm about her waist, and with his free hand clumsily pouring another gla.s.s of wine.
"Only a thing of thought, eh? _Madre de Dios! Bien_, pretty thought, drink with me this thought of wine!" He laughed boisterously at his crude wit, and forced the gla.s.s between her lips.
"I--am not afraid--I am not afraid," she whispered, drinking. "It cannot hurt me--nor can you. G.o.d _is_ here!"
"Hurt you!" he panted, setting down the gla.s.s and mopping his hot brow, as he settled back into the chair again. "_Caramba_! who hurts when he loves?"
"You--do--not--love--me, Padre!" she gasped under his tight clutch.
"You have--only a wrong thought--of me--of love--of everything!"
"_Bien_--but you love me, pretty creature, is it not so?" he mocked, holding up her head and kissing her full on the mouth.
"I--I love the _real_ "you"--for that is G.o.d"s image," she murmured, struggling to hold her face away from his fetid breath. "But--I do not--love the way that image is--is translated--in your human mind!"
"_Caramba_!" he threw himself back and gave noisy vent to his risibility. "_Chiquita mia_! What grand language! Where did you learn it?"
For the moment the girl seemed to forget that she was in the fell clutches of a demon incarnate. Her thought strayed back to little Simiti, to Cuc.u.mbra, to Cantar-las-horas, to--ah, was _he_ searching for her now? And would he come?--
"It was Padre Jose; he taught me," she whispered sadly.
"Padre Jose! _Maldito_! The curse of G.o.d blast him, the monkey-faced _mozo! Caramba_! but he will teach you no more! You have a new master now to give you a few needed lessons, _senorita mia_, and--"
"Padre Diego!" her tense voice checked further expression of his low thought. "You have no power to curse anything! You have no power to harm me, or to teach me anything! G.o.d _is_ here! He _will_ protect me!
He keeps all them that love Him!" She gasped again as his clutch tightened about her.
"Doubtless, my lily. _Caramba_! your skin is like the velvet!" He roughly drew the girl up on his knees. "To be sure He will protect you, my _mariposa._ And He is using me as the channel, you see--just as you said a few moments ago, eh?" His rude laugh again echoed through the room.
"He is not--using you--at all!" she panted. "Evil thoughts are--are using you. And all--they can do--is to kill themselves--and you!"
"_Madre Maria_! Is such a sad fate in store for me, my beautiful _hada_?" He chuckled and reached out again for the bottle. "Another little thought of wine, my love. It"s only a thought, you know. Ha!
ha! I must remember to tell Don Antonio of this!--_Maldita_!"
His clumsy movement had upset the bottle. Struggling to save its contents, he relaxed his hold on Carmen. Like a flash she wormed her supple body out under his arm, slid to the floor, and gained the window.
"_Dios y diablo! Maldita! Maldita_!" shrilled Diego, aflame with wrath. "Cursed wench! when I lay these hands again on you--!"
Struggling to his feet, he made for the girl. But at the first step the light rug slid along the smooth tiles beneath his uncertain tread.
He threw out an arm and sought to grasp the table. But as he did so, his foot turned under him. There was a sharp, snapping sound. With a groan the heavy man sank to the floor.
For a moment Carmen stood as if dazed. Diego lay very still. Then the girl picked up her torn dress and approached him carefully. "It was his bad thoughts," she whispered; "he slipped on them; they threw him!
I knew it--I just _knew_ it!"
Pa.s.sing to one side, she gained the door, threw back the bolt, and hurried out into the rotunda. Crouched on the floor, the stiletto clasped in her hand, sat Ana, her face drenched with tears, and her chest heaving. When she saw the girl she sprang to her feet.
"Carmen! Ah, _Dios_! your dress!--_Madre Maria_! I could not save you; I could not break through the heavy door; but I can punish him!" She burst into a flood of tears and started into the room.
"No, Anita!" cried the girl, throwing herself into the woman"s arms.
"He is punished! He did not hurt me--G.o.d would not let him! Look!
Anita, look!" pointing to the body on the floor.
The woman stopped abruptly. "Carmen!" she whispered in awed tones, "did G.o.d strike him dead?"
"I don"t know, Anita--but come! No!" clinging to the woman"s skirt; "Anita dear, do not go in there! Leave him! Come away with me!"
The woman"s eyes were wild, her hair loose and disheveled. "_Caramba_!"
she cried, "but we will make sure that the beast is dead before we go! And if we leave this blade in his heart, it may be a warning to others of his kind!"
"No, Anita--no! G.o.d will not let you kill him! You must not! Your murder-thoughts will kill you if you do! Come! Listen--it is a steamboat whistle! Oh, Anita--if it is going up the river--we can take it--"
Ana hesitated. "But--leave him? He may--"