“‘Carmencita,’ I asked, ‘don’t you love me any more?’
“She gave me no answer, she was sitting cross-legged on a mat, making marks on the ground with her finger.
“‘Let us change our life, Carmen,’ said I imploringly. ‘Let us go away and live somewhere we shall never be parted. You know we have a hundred and twenty gold ounces buried under an oak not far from here, and then we have more money with Ben-Joseph the Jew.’
“She began to smile, and then she said, ‘Me first, and then you. I know it will happen like that.’
“‘Think about it,’ said I. ‘I’ve come to the end of my patience and my courage. Make up your mind—or else I must make up mine.’
“I left her alone and walked toward the hermitage. I found the hermit praying. I waited till his prayer was finished. I longed to pray myself, but I couldn’t. When he rose up from his knees I went to him.
“‘Father,’ I said, ‘will you pray for some one who is in great danger?’
“‘I pray for every one who is afflicted,’ he replied.
“‘Can you say a mass for a soul which is perhaps about to go into the presence of its Maker?’
“‘Yes,’ he answered, looking hard at me.