"But you will not wonder it struck me odd that a father
should not be permitted to embrace his own daughter."

Dead silence, heavy and stifling, fell upon Jose. Slowly his throat
filled, and his ears began to throb. Diego sat before him, smiling and
twirling his fat thumbs. He looked like the images of Chinese gods
Jose had seen in foreign lands.

Then the tortured man forced a laugh. Of course, the strain of
yesterday had been too much for him! His overwrought mind had read
into words and events meanings which they had not been meant to
convey.

"True, _amigo_," he managed to say, striving to steady his voice. "But
we spiritual Fathers should not forget--"

Diego laughed egregiously. "_Caramba_, man! Let us get to the meat in
the nut. Why do you think I am in Simiti, braving the wrath of Rosendo
and others? Why have I left my comfortable quarters in Banco, to
undertake a journey, long and hazardous, to this godless hole?"

He paused, apparently enjoying the suffering he saw depicted upon
Jose's countenance.

"I will tell you," he resumed. "But you will keep my confidence, no?
We are brother priests, and must hold together. You protect me in
this, and I return the favor in a like indiscretion. _Bien_, I
explain: I am here partly because of the revolution, as I told you
yesterday, and partly, as I did not tell you, to see my little girl,
my daughter, Carmen--

"_Caramba_, man!" he cried, bounding to his feet, as he saw Jose
slowly rise before him. "Listen! It is God's truth! Sit down! Sit
down!"

Jose dropped back into his chair like a withered leaf in the lull of a
winter's wind.

"_Dios y diablo_, but it rends me to make this confession, _amigo_!
And yet, I look to you for support! The girl, Carmen--_I am her
father!_"

Diego paced dramatically up and down before the scarce hearing Jose
and unfolded his story in a quick, jerky voice, with many a gesture
and much rolling of his bright eyes.

"Her mother was a Spanish woman of high degree. We met in Bogota. My
vows prevented me from marrying her, else I should have done so.
_Caramba_, but I loved her! _Bien_, I was called to Cartagena. She
feared, in her delicate state, that I was deserting her. She tried to
follow me, and at Badillo was put off the boat. There, poor child, she
passed away in grief, leaving her babe. May she rest forever on the
bosom of the blessed Virgin!" Diego bowed reverently and crossed
himself.

"Then I lost all trace of her. My