"Dear Brother in Christ: It is, as you must know, because of our good Rosendo's foolish anger that I relieve him of the embarra.s.sment of my presence in Simiti. Not that I fear bodily harm, but lest his thoughtlessness urge him to attempt injury upon me; in which case nothing but unhappiness could result, as my two negro servants would protect me with their own lives. I rather choose peace, and to that end quietly depart. But I leave behind my bleeding heart in the little Carmen; and I beg that you will at once hand her over to the excellent Don Mario, with whom I have made arrangements to have her sent to me in due season, whether in Banco or Remedios, I can not at present say. I am minded to make an excellent report of your parish to Don Wenceslas, and I am sure he will lend you support in your labors for the welfare of the good folk of Simiti. Do not forget to include the little locket with Carmen's effects when you deliver her to Don Mario. I a.s.sure you of my warm affection for you, and for Rosendo, who mistakes in his zeal to persecute me, as he will some day learn; and I commend you both to the protecting care of our blessed Mother Mary.

"I kiss your hand, as your servant in Christ, "DIEGO GUILLERMO POLO."

Jose looked long and fixedly at the Alcalde. "Don Mario," he finally said, "do you believe Diego to be the father of Carmen?"

"_Cierto_, Padre, I know it!" replied the official with fervor. "He has the proofs!"

"And what are they, may I ask?"

"I do not know, Padre; only that he has them. Surely the child is his, and must be sent to him when he commands. Meantime, you see, he gives the order to deliver her to me. He has kindly arranged to relieve you and Rosendo of further care of the girl."

"Don Mario," said Jose with terrible earnestness, "I will give you the benefit of the doubt, and say that Diego has basely deceived you. But as for him--he lies."

"_Hombre!_ But I can not help if you disbelieve him. Still, you must comply with his request; otherwise, the Bishop may compel you to do so."

Jose realized the terrible possibility of truth in this statement. For an instant all his old despair rushed upon him. Then he braced himself. Rosendo was holding his wrath in splendid check.

"_Bien_, Don Mario," resumed Jose, after a long meditation. "Let us ask our good Rosendo to leave us for a little moment that we may with greater freedom discuss the necessary arrangements. _Bien, amigo!_"

holding up a hand to check Rosendo, who was rising menacingly before the Alcalde. "You will leave it to me." He threw Rosendo a significant look; and the latter, after a momentary hesitation, bowed and pa.s.sed out of the room.

"_A proposito, amigo_," resumed Jose, turning to the Alcalde and a.s.suming utter indifference with regard to Carmen. "As you will recall, I stood security for Rosendo's debts. The thirty _pesos_ which he owes you will be ready this evening."

The Alcalde smiled genially and rubbed his fat palms together. "_Muy bien_," he murmured.

Jose reflected. Then:

"But, Don Mario, with regard to Carmen, justice must be done, is it not so?"

"_Cierto_, Padre; and Padre Diego has the proofs--"

"Certainly; I accept your word for your conviction in the matter. But you will agree that there is something to be said for Rosendo. He has fed, clothed, and sheltered the girl for some eight years. Let us see, at the rate you charge your _peones_, say, fifty pesos a day, that would amount to--"

He took paper and pencil from the table and made a few figures.

"--to just fourteen hundred and sixty _pesos oro_," he concluded.

"This, then, is the amount now due Rosendo for the care of Diego's child. You say he has made arrangements with you to care for her until he can send for her. _Bien_, we will deliver her to you for Diego, but only upon payment of the sum which I have just mentioned.

Otherwise, how will Rosendo be reimbursed for the expense of her long maintenance?"

"_Ca--ram--ba!_ Fourteen hundred and sixty _pesos oro_! Why--it is a fortune!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the outwitted Alcalde, his eyes bulging over his puffy cheeks.

"And," continued Jose calmly, "if we deliver the girl to you to-day, I will retain the thirty _pesos oro_ which Rosendo owes you, and you will stand surety for the balance of the debt, fourteen hundred and thirty, in that case."

"_Diablo!_ but I will do nothing of the kind!" exploded the Alcalde.

"_Caramba!_ let Diego come and look after his own brat!"

"Then we shall consider the interview at an end, no?"

"But my thirty _pesos oro_?"

"To-night. And as much more for additional supplies. We are still working together, are we not, Don Mario?" he added suggestively.

Jose in Simiti with money discounted a million Diegos fleeing through the jungle. The Alcalde's heavy face melted in a foolish grin.

"_Cierto, buen Padre!_ and--La Libertad?"

"I have strong hopes," replied Jose with bland a.s.surance, while a significant look came into his face. Then he rose and bowed the Alcalde out. "And, Don Mario--"

He put a finger on his lips.

"--we remain very silent, no?"

"_Cierto, Padre, cierto!_ I am the grave itself!"

As the bulky official waddled off to his little shop, Jose turned back into his house with a great sigh of relief. Another problem had been met--temporarily.

He summoned Carmen to the day's lessons.

CHAPTER 17

Within the month Juan brought from Bodega Central the glad news of the revolution's utter collapse. The anticlerical element, scenting treachery in their own ranks, and realizing almost from the outset that the end was a matter of only a few weeks, offered to capitulate on terms which they felt would be less distressing to their pride than those which their victors might dictate after inflicting a crushing defeat. The conservatives did not take advantage of the _fiasco_, but offered conciliation in the way of reapportioning certain minor public offices, and a show of somewhat lessened clerical influence. Peace followed rapidly. The fires of Jacobinism and popery were again banked, while priest and politician, statesman and orator set up the board and rearranged the p.a.w.ns for the next play.

Nothing further had been heard of Padre Diego during the month, excepting that he had arrived at the settlement of Juncal in a state of extreme agitation, and had hurriedly set out that same day along the trail to the San Lucas district. Rosendo, meanwhile, a.s.sured that Diego would not return in the immediate future, yielded to Jose's persuasion and departed at once for Guamoco on the news of the revolution's close. Simiti had remained unmolested; and now, with the a.s.surance of indefinite peace, the old town dropped quickly back into her wonted state of listless repose, and yielded to the drowsy, dreamy influences that hover always about this scene of mediaeval romance.

Jose had recovered his equipoise; and even when Juan, returning from his next trip down to the river, brought the priest another sharp letter from Wenceslas, written in the Bishop's name, he read it without a tremor. The letter complained of Jose's silence, and especially of his failure to a.s.sist the Catholic cause in this crisal hour by contributions of Peter's Pence. Nor had any report been received in Cartagena relative to the state of the parish of Simiti, its resources and communicants; and not a _peso_ had been offered to the support of their so dear citadel at a time when its enemies threatened its gates. Jose smiled happily as he penned his reply, for he knew that with Rosendo's next return their contributions to Cartagena would begin. That meant the quieting of Wenceslas, regardless of whatever report Diego might make. And it was evident from this letter that neither Diego nor the Alcalde had as yet communicated anything of a startling nature to Wenceslas regarding those things to which the priest had consecrated himself in Simiti.

Jose's life was never before so full. And never so sweet. To his little flock he was now preaching the Word of G.o.d only as he could interpret it to meet their simple needs. Gradually, as he got closer to them, he sought to enlighten them and to draw them at least a little way out of the dense materialism of their present religious beliefs. He also strove to give them the best of his own worldly knowledge, and to this end was talking to them three nights a week in the church building, where the simple people hung upon his words like children enwrapped in fairy lore. He was holding regular Sunday services, and offering Ma.s.ses during the week for those of his parishioners who requested them, and who would have been shocked, puzzled, and unhappy had he refused to do so, or attempted to prove their uselessness. He was likewise saying diurnal Ma.s.ses for the little Maria, to whom, as she lay breathing her last in his arms in Cartagena, he had given the promise to offer them daily in her behalf for, a year.

Nor was this the extent of his loving sacrifice for the girl. He had already sent a small sum of money to Catalina by Captain Julio, who promised to arrange at Calamar for its transmission, and for the safe convoy of a similar small packet monthly to Cartagena and into the hands of the two women who were caring for the infant son of Wenceslas and the ill-fated Maria. He had promised her that night that he would care for her babe. And his life had long since shown what a promise meant to him. He knew he would be unable to learn of the child's progress directly from these women, for they were both illiterate. But Captain Julio brought an encouraging message from them, and a.s.sured Jose that he would always make inquiry for the babe on his trips down the river. Jose's long-distance dealings with the genial captain had been conducted through Juan, who had const.i.tuted himself the priest's faithful servant and the distant worshiper of the child Carmen.

"Padre Jose," Juan had said one day, striving vainly to hide his embarra.s.sment, "the little Carmen grows very beautiful. She is like the Pascua-flower, that shines through the ferns in the _cano_. She is like the great blue b.u.t.terfly, that floats on the sunbeams that sift through the forest trees."

"Yes, Juan, she is very beautiful."

"Padre, you love her much, is it not so?"

"Very much, indeed, Juan."

"And I, Padre, I, too, love her." He paused and dug the hard ground with his bare toes.

"Padre," he resumed, "the little Carmen will marry--some day, will she not?"

Jose started. The thought had never occurred to him! Carmen marry?

After all, she was human, and-- But, no, he could not, he would not, think of it!

"Why, Juan--I--cannot say--"