Carmen Ariza
Chapter 65 : The trembling old man replaced the bars and carried them to Jose's bed. The priest

The trembling old man replaced the bars and carried them to Jose's bed. The priest opened the door and called to Carmen.

"What was in the old box, Padre?" she asked happily, bounding into the room.

He stooped and picked her up, almost crus.h.i.+ng her in his arms. "The answer to your question, _chiquita_. 'Before they call I will answer: and while they are yet speaking, I will hear.'"

CHAPTER 23

When Jose awoke the next morning he quickly put his hand under his pillow. Yes, the little coffer was there! It had not been a dream. He drew it forth and raised the cover. The yellow bars glittered in the morning rays sifting through the overhanging thatch at the window. He pa.s.sed his hand gently across them. What a fortunate discovery! And how strangely brought about. They were rich! Now he could take Carmen and flee! His heart leaped within him as he hastily threw on his scant attire and went out into the balsamic air of the tropical morning.

Rosendo had gone to the village of Boque, starting before sun-up, so Dona Maria announced. Some sudden impulse had seized him, and he had set out forthwith, not stopping to discuss the motive with his faithful consort. Jose concluded his _desayuno_, and then summoned Carmen to the parish house for the day's lessons. She came with a song on her lips.

"Don't stop, _chiquita_! Sing it again--it is beautiful; and my soul drinks it in like heavenly dew!" he cried, as the child danced up to him and threw her plump arms about his neck.

She turned about and sat down on the dusty threshold and repeated the little song. The glittering sunlight streamed through her rich curls like stringers of wire gold. Cuc.u.mbra came fawning to her and nestled at her little bare feet, caressing them at frequent intervals with his rough tongue. Cantar-las-horas approached with dignified tread, and, stopping before his adored little mistress, c.o.c.ked his head to one side and listened attentively, his beady eyes blinking in the dazzling light.

Jose marveled anew as he listened. Where had that voice come from? Had either of her parents been so gifted? he wondered. And yet, it was only the voicing of a soul of stainless purity--a conscience clear as the light that gilded her curls--a trust, a faith, a knowledge of immanent good, that manifested daily, hourly, in a tide of happiness whose far verge melted into the sh.o.r.e of eternity. As he sat with closed eyes the adobe hut, with its dirt floor and shabby furnis.h.i.+ngs, expanded into a castle, hung with richest tapestries, rarest pictures, and glittering with plate of gold. The familiar odors of garlic and saffron, which penetrated from the primitive kitchen of Dona Maria, were trans.m.u.ted into delicate perfumes. The sun drew nearer, and suffused him with its glittering flood. The girl became a white-robed vision, and her song a benediction, voicing "Glory to G.o.d in the highest, and on earth peace among men of good will."

The song ended, and left the thought with him: "To men of good will?"

Yes, to men of G.o.d's will--the will that is good--to men of sound mind--that mind which was in Christ Jesus--the mind that knows no evil! To such is eternal peace.

"_Chiquita_," the priest said gently, when the girl returned to him.

"Your question was quickly answered yesterday, was it not?"

She laughed up into his face. "It was answered, Padre, before we asked it. G.o.d has the answers to all questions that could ever be asked. We would always know the answers if we thought the way He does."

"But--tell me, _chiquita_, do you think He put that little box up there in the altar purposely for us?"

"No, Padre--I guess it was hidden there by some man, long ago, who was afraid he would lose it. And since he was afraid he would lose it, why--he did, for now we have it."

"Yes, the thing that he greatly feared came upon him. But what is your idea regarding the way we happened to find it? Did G.o.d lead us to it?"

"G.o.d leads to everything good, Padre dear," was the simple response.

"Of course. But, in this particular case--would we have been led to the little box if you had not asked your question of G.o.d?"

"Why not, Padre? People are always led right when they think right."

"And so thinking right was the cause of this discovery, was it?" he pursued, relentlessly probing her thought to its depths.

"Why--yes, Padre--of course. We had to have money--you said so, you know. And you told me to ask for lots of _pesos_. Well, we both knew that G.o.d had already given us more _pesos_ than we could ever know what to do with--He always does. He just can't help giving Himself to everybody. And He gave Himself to us--why, we have always had Him! We are _in_ Him, you know. And when anybody just knows that--why, he sees nothing but good everywhere, and he always has all that he needs."

"All that he wants, you mean, _chiquita_?"

"No, Padre, not all that he wants. Just all that he needs. You might want all the gold in the world--but you wouldn't need it."

"No, that would be only a selfish, human want. It would be covetousness.

But--you still think we were led right to the little box, do you?"

"I know it, Padre dear," she replied emphatically. "When we think good, we see good. It always comes out that way. It is just as sure as getting the right answers to my problems in algebra when I think right about them."

"And thinking right about them means using the right rule, does it not?"

"Yes--of course. If I didn't use the right rule--why, what sort of answers would I get? All jumbled up!"

"Surely--perfect chaos. But still," vigorously pursuing the subject, "you don't think we happened upon the little box just by good luck?"

"Padre," she shook her curls insistently, "things never happen, _never_! We see only what we think--always!"

"Yes, there surely does seem to be a definite law of cause and effect.

But you did not think gold yesterday, _chiquita_."

"Oh, Padre dear, what a bother you are! No, I didn't think gold yesterday. I never think gold. But I always think _good_. And that is gold and everything else that we need. Can't you see? And it wasn't just because I thought good yesterday, but because I think good every day, that I saw the gold. It was because we needed it, and G.o.d had already given us all that we needed. And I knew that it just _had_ to come. And so did you. Then, because we really needed it, and knew that it was right and that it must come--well, it did. Can't you see?" Her little face was very serious as she looked up appealingly into his.

"Yes, _chiquita_, yes, I see. I just wanted to know how you would explain it. It becomes clearer to me every day that there are no such things as miracles--never were! Christ Jesus _never_ performed miracles, if by that we mean that he set aside G.o.d's laws for the benefit of mankind. But he acted in perfect accord with those laws--and no wonder the results seemed miraculous to dull-witted human minds, who had always seen only their coa.r.s.e, material thought externalized in material laws and objects, in chance, mixed good and evil, and a G.o.d of human characteristics!"

"Yes--I--guess so, Padre dear--only, I don't understand your big words."

"Ah, _chiquita_, you understand far, far better than I do! Why, I am learning it all from you! But come, now for the lessons."

And Jose had learned by this time, too, that between merely recognizing righteousness as right-thinking, and actually practicing it--putting it to the test so as to "prove" G.o.d--there is a vast difference. Things cannot be "thought" into existence, nor evils "thought" away--the stumbling block of the mere tyro in the study of mental cause and effect. A vast development in spirituality must precede those "signs following" before mankind shall again do the works of the Master. Jose knew this; and he bowed in humble submission, praying for daily light.

At dusk Rosendo returned. "_Bien_, Padre, I have it now, I think!" he cried excitedly, pacing back and forth in the little room.

"What, Rosendo?" asked the wondering priest.

"The secret of the little box! Come, while we eat I will tell you!"

The little group gathered about the table, while Rosendo unfolded his theory.

"I went to Boque this morning to talk with Dona Lucia. She is very aged, the oldest inhabitant in these parts. _Bien_, I knew that she had known Don Ignacio, although she was not his slave. Her story brought back to me also the things my father had often told me about Don Ignacio's last trip to Simiti. Putting all these things together, I think I now know how the little box came to be hidden in the altar of the old church."

The old man's eyes sparkled with happiness, while his auditors drew closer about him to drink in his dramatic recital. For Rosendo, like a true Latin, reveled in a wonder-tale. And his recitals were always accompanied by profuse gesticulation and wonderful facial expressions and much rolling of the eyes.

"_Bien_," he continued, "it was this way. Don Ignacio's possessions in Guamoco were enormous, and in the then prosperous city of Simiti he had stores and warehouses and much property. When the War of Independence neared its end, and he saw that the Royalist cause was lost, he made a last and flying trip to Simiti, going up the Magdalena river from Cartagena in his own _champan_, propelled by some of his still faithful slaves.

"_Bien_, he found that one of his foremen had just returned from the mountains with the final clean-up from La Libertad _arrastras_. These had been abandoned, for most of the slaves had deserted, or gone to fight the Spaniards. But the foreman, who was not a slave, but a faithful employe, had cleaned up the _arrastras_ and hidden the amalgam until he could find a favorable opportunity to come down to Simiti with it.

"Now, when Don Ignacio arrived here, he found the town practically deserted. So he and the foreman retorted the amalgam and melted the gold into bars. But, just as they had completed their task, a messenger came flying to town and reported that a body of Royalist soldiers were at Badillo, and that they had learned that Simiti was the _bodega_ of the rich Guamoco district, and were preparing to come over and sack the town. They were fleeing down the river to the coast, to get away to Spain as soon as possible, but had put off at Badillo to come over here. Fortunately, they had become very intoxicated, and their expedition was for that reason delayed.

"_Bueno_, at the news the foreman dropped everything and fled for his life. A few people gathered with the priest in the Rincon church, the one you are using now, Padre. The priest of the other old church on the hill fled. _Caramba_, but he was a coward--and he got well paid for it, too! But of that later.

"Don Ignacio's _champan_ was at Badillo, and he had come across to Simiti by canoe. _Bien_, he dared not take this gold back with him; and so he thought of hiding it in one of the churches, for that is always a sacred place. There were people in his own church, and so he hurried to the one on the hill. Evidently, as he looked about in the deserted building for a place to hide the bars, he saw that some of the bricks could easily be removed from the rear of the altar. A couple of hours sufficed to do the work of secreting the box. Then he fled across the shales to the town of Boque, where he got a canoe to take him down to the Magdalena; and there he waited until he saw the soldiers come across and enter the _cano_. Then he fled to Badillo.

Don Nicolas, son of Dona Lucia, was his boatman, and he says that he remained with your grandfather at that place over night, and that there they received the report that the Royalists had been terribly whipped in the battle--the battle of--_Caramba_! I forget--"