Josè felt himself strangely moved. Somewhere deep within his soul a chord had been suddenly struck by the little presence; and the sound was unfamiliar to him. Yet it awakened memories of distant scenes, of old dreams, and forgotten longings. It seemed to echo from realms of his soul that had never been penetrated. The tumult within died away. The raging thought sank into calm. The man forgot himself, forgot that he had come to Simití to die. His sorrow vanished. His sufferings faded. He remained conscious only of something that he could not outline, something in the soul of the child, a thing that perhaps he once possessed, and that he knew he yet prized above all else on earth. He heard Rosendo's voice through an immeasurable distance-- "Leave us now, _chiquita_; the Padre wishes to have his breakfast." The child without speaking turned obediently; and the priest's eyes followed her until she disappeared into the kitchen. "We call her 'the smile of God,'" said Rosendo, noting the priest's absorption, "because she is always happy." Josè remained sunk in thought. Then-- "A beautiful child!" he murmured. "A wonderfully beautiful child! I had no idea--!" "Yes, Padre, she is heaven's gift to us poor folk. I sometimes think the angels themselves left her on the river bank." "On the river bank!" Josè was awake now. "Why--she was not born here?" "Oh, no, Padre, but in Badillo." "Ah, then you once lived in Badillo?" "_Na, Señor Padre_, she is not my child--except that the good God has given her to me to protect." "Not your child! Then whose is she?" The priest's voice was unwontedly eager and his manner animated. But Rosendo fell suddenly quiet and embarrassed, as if he realized that already he had said too much to a stranger. A shade of suspicion seemed to cross his face, and he rose hurriedly and went out into the kitchen. A moment later he returned with the priest's breakfast--two fried eggs, a hot corn _arepa_, fried _platanos_, dried fish, and coffee sweetened with _panela_. "When you have finished, Padre, we will visit the Alcalde," he said quietly. "I must go down to the lake now to speak with Juan before he goes out to fish." Josè finished his meal alone. The interest which had been aroused by the child continued to increase without reaction. His torpid soul had been profoundly stirred. For the moment, though he knew not why, life seemed to hold a vague, unshaped interest for him. He began to notice his environment; he even thought he relished the coarse food set before him.