PADRE MATEO heard this melancholy declaration with a sinking heart. He stood a moment looking with horror on the disfigurement of what had been but a few hours before a handsome, frankfaced man, to turn away quickly and almost run to stop Gertrudis in her eager coming.
"I have sent her away to wait a little while, Juan," he said, returning presently. His voice was hushed, awed, as if he spoke to one dying, to whom the things of life were only trivialities. "You are no sight for a woman's eye, your body half naked. She understands; she will wait."
"I will go inside with you, then," said Juan.
Padre Ignacio had not returned from his blind dash into the mountains; the care of the two suffering men rested in Padre Mateo's hands alone, and he was uncertain in his mind which was the graver case and in the more pressing need of attention. Juan solved the doubt for him the moment Padre Mateo opened the door of the little room under the eaves which he never had expected to enter again.
"Leave me now, Padre Mateo, and attend to Don Geronimo," he requested. "If you will send me a
