, I
swore ever so many times to be his wife. Thirty times a month for two
months. I couldn't help myself. It was no use complaining to my sister
Therese. When I showed her my bruises and tried to tell her a little
about my trouble she was quite scandalized. She called me a sinful girl,
a shameless creature. I assure you it puzzled my head so that, between
Therese my sister and Jose the boy, I lived in a state of idiocy almost.
But luckily at the end of the two months they sent him away from home for
good. Curious story to happen to a goatherd living all her days out
under God's eye, as my uncle the Cura might have said. My sister Therese
was keeping house in the Presbytery. She's a terrible person."

"I have heard of your sister Therese," I said.

"Oh, you have! Of my big sister Therese, six, ten years older than
myself perhaps? She just comes a little above my shoulder, but then I
was always a long thing. I never knew my mother. I don't even know how
she looked. There are no paintings or photographs in our farmhouses
amongst the hills. I haven't even heard her described to me. I believe
I was never good enough to be told these things. Therese decided that I
was a lump of wickedness, and now she believes that I will lose my soul
altogether unless I take some steps to save it. Well, I have no
particular taste that way. I suppose it is annoying to have a sister
going fast to eternal perdition, but there are compensations. The
funniest thing is that it's Therese, I believe, who managed to keep me
out of the Presbytery when I went out of my way to look in on them on my
return from my visit to the _Quartel Real_ last year. I couldn't have
stayed much more than half an hour with them anyway, but still I would
have liked to get over the old doorstep. I am certain that Therese
persuaded my uncle to go out and meet me at the bottom of the hill. I
saw the old man a long way off and I understood how it was. I dismounted
at once and met him on foot. We had half an hour together walking up and
down the road. He is a peasant priest, he didn't know how to treat me.
And of course I was uncomfortable, too. There wasn't a single goat about
to keep me in countenance. I ought to have embraced him. I was always
fond of the stern, simple old man. But he drew himself up when I
approached him and actually took off his hat to me. So simple as that!
I bowed my head and asked for his blessing. And he said 'I would