The eyes caught the crucifix, and became as empty as the orbits of the
carven Christ upon it.

Father Pedro waited patiently. A moment passed; only the sound of the
muleteer's spurs was heard in the courtyard.

"It is well," he said at last, with a sigh of relief. "Pepita shall
give thee some refreshment, and Jose will bring thee back again. I will
summon him."

He passed out of the sacristy door, leaving it open. A ray of sunlight
darted eagerly in, and fell upon the grotesque heap in the corner.
Sanchicha's eyes lived again; more than that, a singular movement came
over her face. The hideous caverns of her toothless mouth opened--she
laughed. The step of Jose was heard in the corridor, and she became
again inert.

The third day, which should have brought the return of Antonio, was
nearly spent. Father Pedro was impatient but not alarmed. The good
fathers at San Jose might naturally detain Antonio for the answer, which
might require deliberation. If any mischance had occurred to Francisco,
Antonio would have returned or sent a special messenger. At sunset he
was in his accustomed seat in the orchard, his hands clasped over the
breviary in his listless lap, his eyes fixed upon the mountain between
him and that mysterious sea that had brought so much into his life. He
was filled with a strange desire to see it, a vague curiosity hitherto
unknown to his preoccupied life; he wished to gaze upon that strand,
perhaps the very spot where she had been found; he doubted not his
questioning eyes would discover some forgotten trace of her; under his