"Yes, I know that well, those words truly are in the Bible, but papa told
me that I should always obey God, cost what it may. Oh, dear uncle, surely
you wish to serve Him. The Lord died for us, and for this, of course, we
love Him. And I thought that you loved Him too. I never knew that there
were people in this world who did not love God. Oh, please let me pray,
dear uncle. I beg of you, I beg of you. Papa, my dear papa, oh, if he
should know that I could never pray anymore! I promised him I'd see him in
heaven one day, and he'll be waiting for us there, waiting there for all of
us, you, and Lisita, and Rosa, and Catalina, and everybody. Oh, please,
please let me pray!" And Paula put her head on my father's shoulder and
sobbed as if her heart would break.

"Oh, let her pray, father," implored Rosa in a low voice. "She is so young,
she'll soon forget." We could all see that there was a great struggle in my
father's innermost self, as a tender look came in his eye, as if he would
say, "Don't cry any more. There, there! Pray if you wish." But suddenly his
eye rested on us and the stern look returned. He had forgotten us. If he
gave way to Paula now, how about the discipline of the rest of his family?
Besides, if he permitted her to pray, what would hinder us also from
invoking that same holy Name? It was too much.

"Listen, I tell you," he said; "you must obey, and obey at once. This thing
has gone too far already." The only reply that came was the sound of
Paula's crying. "There, there," said my father, "Stop your crying. I know
your religion perfectly, and once I was on the point of practising it, but,
as I said before, your religion teaches obedience to those who are over
you."

Paula raised her head, and amid her tears she said, "Listen, uncle dear,