a big automobile. He would go to her, he would sweep
away her doubts and hesitations. He would carry her away and marry her.
She would be his.{~HORIZONTAL ELLIPSIS~} He closed his eyes and drew his breath in sharply.{~HORIZONTAL ELLIPSIS~}

But no; he would have to wait {~HORIZONTAL ELLIPSIS~} a decent interval. And the five thousand
dollars must be gotten to Archulera. That was obviously important. And
there might not be much cash. The Don had never had much ready money. He
might have to sell land or sheep first. All of these things to be done,
and here he lay, staring at the ceiling and listening to the wailing of
old women!

There was a knock on the door.

"_Entra!_" he called.

The door opened softly and a tall, black-robed figure was silhouetted for
a moment against the daylight before the door closed again. The black
figure crossed the room and sat down by the bed, silent save for a faint
rustle.

Although he could not see the face, Ramon knew that this was the priest,
Father Lugaria. He knew that Father Lugaria had come to arrange for the
mass over the body of Don Delcasar. He disliked Father Lugaria, and knew
that the Father disliked him. This mutual antipathy was due to the fact
that Ramon seldom went to Church.

There were others of his generation who showed the same indifference
toward religion, and this defection of youth was a thing which the Priests
bitterly contested. Ramon was perfectly willing to make a polite
compromise with them. If Father Lugaria had been satisfied with an
occasional appearance at early mass, a perfunctory confession now and
then, the two might have been friends. But the Priest made Ramon a special
object of his attention. He continually went to the Dona Delcasar with
complaints and that devout woman incessantly nagged her son, holding
before him always pictures of the damnation he was courting. Once in a
while she even produced in him a faint twinge of fear--a recrudescence of
the deep religious feeling in which he was bred--but the feeling was
evanescent. The chief result of these labours on behalf of his soul had
been to turn him strongly against the priest who instigated them.

Father Lugaria seemed all kindness and sympathy now. He sat close beside
Ramon and took his hand. Ramon could smell the good wine on the man's
breath, and could see faintly the brightness of his eyes. The grip of the
priest's hand was strong, moist and surprisingly cold. He began to talk in
the low