"I told you on the boat that I had lost a wife and girl. The
Church got them both. I tell you this because I know you, too, have
grievances against her. _Caramba!_ Yet I will tell you only a part. I
lived in Maganguey, where my wife's brother kept a store and did an
excellent commission business. I was mining and hunting graves in the
Cauca region, sometimes going up the Magdalena, too, and working on
both sides of the river. Maganguey was a convenient place for me to
live, as it stands at the junction of the two great rivers. Besides,
my wife wished to remain near her own people. _Bien_, we had a
daughter. She grew up fair and good. And then, one day, the priest
told my wife that the girl was destined to a great future, and must
enter a convent and consecrate herself to the Church. _Caramba!_ I am
not a Catholic--was never one! My parents were patriots, and both took
part in the great war that gave liberty to this country. But they were
liberal in thought; and I was never confirmed to the Church. _Bien_,
the priest made my life a hell--my wife became estranged from me--and
one day, returning from the Cauca, I found my house deserted. Wife and
girl and the child's nurse had gone down the river!"

The man's face darkened, and hard lines drew around his mouth.

"They had taken my money chest, some thousands of pesos. I sought the
priest. He laughed at me, and--_Caramba_! I struck him such a blow
between his pig eyes that he lay senseless for hours!"

Jose glanced at the broad shoulders and the great knots of muscle on
the man's arms. He was of medium height, but with a frame of iron.

"_Bien, Senor Padre_, I, too, fled wild and raving from Maganguey that
night, and plunged into the jungle. Months later I drifted down the
river, as far as Mompox. And there one day I chanced upon old
Marcelena, the child's nurse. Like a _cayman_ I seized her and dragged
her into an alley. She confessed that my wife and girl were living
there--the wife had become housekeeper for a young priest--the girl
was in the convent. _Caramba!_ I hurled the woman to the ground and
turned my back upon the city!"

Jose's interest in the all too common recital received a sudden
stimulus.

"Your daughter's name, Don Jorge, was--"

"Maria, _Senor Padre_."

"And--she would now be, how old, perhaps?"

"About twenty-two, I think."

"Her appearance?"

"Fair--complexion light, like her mother's. Maria was a beautiful
child--and good as she was bea