"Oh!" she exclaimed in a tone of feigned solicitation. "I feared you
had met with an accident! My heart beats like the patter of rain! Why
do you stay out so late and cause me worry?"

The bloated face of the man leered like a Jack-o'-lantern. "Spiritual
retreat, my love--spiritual retreat," he muttered thickly. "Imbibing
the spirits, you know." He laughed heavily at his coarse joke.

The woman gave him a look of inexpressible disgust. "But you are home
safe, at any rate," she said in a fawning voice; "and my fear is
quieted. Come now, and I will help you into bed. Not in there!" she
cried, as he lurched toward the door of the room where Carmen lay; "in
your own room to-night!"

He swayed to and fro before her, as she stood with her back against
the door.

"_Nombre de Dios_!" he muttered, "but you grow daily more unkind to
your good Padre! _Bien_, it is well that I have a fresh little
housekeeper coming!" He made again as if to enter the room. The woman
threw her arms about his neck.

"Padre dear," she appealed, "have you ceased to love your Anita? She
would spend this night alone; and can you not favor her this once?"

"_Caramba_!" he croaked in peevish suspicion, "but I think you have a
paramour in there. _Bien_, I will go in and shrive his wicked soul!"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you!" cried the desperate woman, her hand
stealing to the weapon concealed in her dress. "Pepito came this
evening with the case of _Oporto_ which you ordered long ago from
Spain. I put it in your study, for I knew you would want to sample it
the moment you returned."

"_Caramba_!" he cried, turning upon her, "why do you not tell me
important things as soon as I arrive? I marvel that you did not wait
until morning to break this piece of heavenly news! _Bien_, come to
the study, and you shall open a bottle for me. _Dios_! but my throat
is seared with Don Antonio's vile rum! My parched soul panteth for the
wine of the gods that flows from sunny Spain! _Caramba_, woman, give
yourself haste!"

Suffering himself to be led by her, he staggered across the rotunda
and into the room where long before he had entertained for a brief
hour Don Jorge and the priest Jose. Ana quickly broke the neck of a
bottle of the newly arrived wine and gave him a generous measure.

"Ah, God in heaven!" murmured the besotted priest, sinking into a
chair and sipping the beverage; "it is the nectar of Olympus--triple
distilled through tubes of sunlight and perfume