enceslas! Rosendo, for God's sake,
listen!"

But the old man, with his huge strength, tossed the frail priest
lightly aside and rushed into the street. Blind with rage, he did not
see Carmen standing a short distance from the door. The child had been
sent to summon him to breakfast. Unable to check his momentum, the big
man crashed full into her and bore her to the ground beneath him. As
she fell her head struck the sharp edge of an ancient paving stone,
and she lay quite still, while the warm blood slowly trickled through
her long curls.

Uttering a frightened cry, Jose rushed to the dazed Rosendo and got
him to his feet. Then he picked up the child, and, his heart numb with
fear, bore her into the house.

Clasping Carmen fiercely in his arms, Jose tried to aid Dona Maria in
staunching the freely flowing blood. Rosendo, crazed with grief, bent
over them, giving vent to moans which, despite his own fears, wrung
the priest's heart with pity for the suffering old man. At length the
child opened her eyes.

"Praise God!" cried Rosendo, kneeling and showering kisses upon her
hands. _"Loado sea el buen Dios! Caramba! Caramba!"_

"Padre Rosendo," the girl murmured, smiling down at him, "your
thoughts were driving you, just like Benjamin drives his oxen. And
they were bad, or you wouldn't have knocked me over."

"Bad!" Rosendo went to the doorway and squatted down upon the dirt
floor in the sunlight. "Bad!" he repeated. "_Caramba_, but they were
murder-thoughts!"

"And they tried to make you murder me, didn't they, padre dear?" She
laughed. "But it didn't really happen, anyway," she added.

Rosendo buried his head in his hands and groaned aloud. Carmen slipped
down from Jose's lap and went unsteadily to the old man.

"They were not yours, those thoughts, padre dear," putting her arms
around his neck. "But they were whipping you hard, just as if you
belonged to them. And see, it just shows that bad thoughts can't do
anything. Look, I'm all right!" She stood off and smiled at him.

Rosendo reached out and clasped her in his long arms. "_Chiquita_," he
cried, "if you were not, your old padre Rosendo would throw himself
into the lake!"

"More bad thoughts, padre dear!" She laughed and held up a warning
finger. "But I was to tell you the _desayuno_ was ready; and see, we
have forgotten all about it!" Her merry laugh rang through the room
like a silver bell.

After breakfast Jose took Rosendo, still shaking, into the