At that moment Carmen reappeared to summon him to lunch. "Come here, little girl," said Josè, drawing her to him. "You asked me to tell you about Jesus. He was the greatest and best man that ever lived. And it was because he never had a bad thought." "Did he know that God was everywhere?" The little face turned lovingly up to his. "He did, sweet child. And so do I--now; for I have found Him even in desolate Simití." CHAPTER 7 Carmen's studies began in earnest that afternoon. In the quiet of his humble cottage Josè, now "a prisoner of the Lord," opened the door of his mental storehouse and carefully selected those first bits of knowledge for the foundation stones on which to rear for her, little by little, a broad education. He found her a facile learner; her thorough ease in the rudiments of arithmetic and in the handling of her own language delighted him. His plan of tutelage, although the result of long contemplation, and involving many radical ideas regarding the training of children, ideas which had been slowly developing in his mind for years, he nevertheless felt in her case to be tentative. For he was dealing with no ordinary child; and so the usual methods of instruction were here wholly out of the question. But on several points he was already firmly resolved. First, he would get well below the surface of this child's mind, and he would endeavor to train her to live in a depth of thought far, far beneath the froth and superficiality of the every-day thinking of mankind. Fortunately, she had had no previous bad training to be counteracted now. Nature had been her only tutor; and Rosendo's canny wisdom had kept out all human interference. Her associates in Simití were few. Her unusual and mature thought had set up an intellectual barrier between herself and the playmates she might have had. Fortunately, too, Josè had now to deal with a child who all her life had thought vigorously--and, he was forced to conclude, correctly. Habits of accurate observation and quick and correct interpretation would not be difficult to form in such a mind. Moreover, to this end he would aim to maintain her interest at the point of intensity in every subject undertaken; yet without forcing, and without sacrifice of the joys of childhood. He would be, not teacher only, but fellow-student. He would strive to learn with her to conceive the ideal without losing sight of the fact that it was a human world in which they dwelt. When she wished to play, he would play with her. But he would contrive and direct their amusements so as to carry instruction, to elucidate and exemplify it, to point morals, and steadily to contribute to her store of knowledge. His plan was ideal, he knew. But he could not know then that Nature--if we may thus call it--had anticipated him, and that the child, long since started upon the quest for truth, would quickly outstrip him in the matter of conceiving the ideal and living in this