“Not go to mass!” exclaimed the young girl with wide-open eyes, amazed and disturbed as well. “And why do you not go to mass? Are you not a Christian?”
“Let us suppose that I am not,” he stammered, in a low voice, like a criminal confessing his crime before his judge, and shaking his head with a melancholy air.
“Good heavens! What are you then?” And Lucía clasped her hands in distress.
“What Father Urtazu would call an unbeliever.”
“Ah,” she cried impetuously. “Father Urtazu would say that all unbelievers are wicked.”
“Father Urtazu might add that they are even more unhappy than wicked.”
“It is true,” replied Lucía, trembling still like a tree shaken by the blast. “It is true, even more unhappy; Father Urtazu would certainly say nothing else. And how unhappy they must be! Holy Virgin of the Rosary!”
The young girl bent her head as if stunned by the sudden blow. The religious sentiment, dormant, until now, along with so many other sentiments, in the depths of her serene and placid soul, awoke with vigor at the unexpected shock. Two sensations struggled for the mastery--piercing pity on the one hand, mingled terror and repulsion on the other. Horrified, she was prompted to move away from Artegui, and for this very reason her heart melted with compassion when she looked at him. The people were coming out of the church; the portico poured forth wave after wave of this human sea, and Lucía, standing erect and pale as a Christian martyr in the arena, was hemmed in by the crowd. Artegui offered her his arm in silence; she hesitated at first, then accepted it, and both walked mechanically in the direction of the hotel. The morning, slightly cloudy, promised a temperature cooler and more agreeable than that of the day before. A delightful breeze was blowing, and through the light clouds the sun could be seen struggling, like love struggling through the clouds of anger.
“Are you sad, Lucía?” Artegui asked the young girl softly.
“A little, Don Ignacio.” And Lucía heaved a profound sigh. “And you are to blame for it,” she added, in a gently reproachful tone.
“Yes, you. Why do you say those foolish things, that cannot be true?”
“Yes, that cannot be true. How can it be true that you are not a Christian? Come, you are saying what you do not mean.”