have the effrontery--the madness--to lecture to your
classes on the heresies of Rome!"

"But--"

"And as if that were not burden enough for these old shoulders, I must
learn that I have taken a serpent to my bosom--but that you are still
sane enough to propagate heresies--to plot revolution with the
Radicals--and--shame consume you!--to wantonly ruin the fair daughters
of our diocese! But, do you see now why I send you where you can do
less evil than here in Cartagena?"

The priest slowly petrified under the tirade.

"The fault is not mine if I must act without instruction from
Rome," the Bishop went on petulantly. "Twice have I warned you
against your teachings--but I did not suspect then, for only
yesterday did I learn that before coming to me you had been confined
in a monastery--insane! But--_Hombre_! when you bring the blush of
shame to my cheeks because of your godless practices--it is time
to put you away without waiting for instruction!"

Godless practices! Was the Bishop or the priest going mad?

"Go now to your room," the Bishop added, turning again to his table.
"You have little enough time to prepare for your journey. Wenceslas
will give you letters to the Alcalde of Simiti."

Wenceslas! The priest's thought flew back over the events of the
morning. Marcelena--Maria--the encounter below with--! _Dios!_ Could
it be that Wenceslas had fastened upon him the stigma of his own
crime? The priest found his tongue.

"Father!--it is untrue!--these charges are false as hell!" he
exclaimed excitedly. "I demand to know who brings them against me!"

The testy Bishop's wrath flared up anew. "You demand! Am I to sit here
and be catechised by _you_? It is enough that I know what occurs in my
diocese, and am well informed of your conduct!"

The doorway darkened, and the priest turned to meet the object of his
suspecting thought.

Bestowing a smile of patronage upon Jose, and bowing obsequiously
before the Bishop, Wenceslas laid some papers upon the table,
remarking as he did so, "The letters, Your Grace, to introduce our
Jose to his new field. Also his instructions and expense money."

"Wenceslas!" The priest confronted him fiercely. "Do you accuse me
before the Bishop?"

"Accuse, _amigo_?" Wenceslas queried in a tone of assumed surprise.
"Have I not said that your ready tongue and pen are your accusers?
But," with a conciliatory air, "we must remember that our good Bishop
mercifully views your conduct in t