human
Ah my sunshine! Ah my white bread! My church! My blessed Mother! My country, my faith, and my God in his sacrament! Happy a thousand times, I, who have been born, and through divine mercy, shall die here! Thank God, my son, that yon did not go to that country, a land of heretics! How dreadful!
gpt
And is heresy catching, mother, like the itch?
human
I do not say that, God forbid, answered the good Maria;
gpt
Everything is catching, except beauty, said Pedro,
human
What do not the poor soldiers have to pass through!
gpt
That must be the reason why I have always been so fond of them, added Maria.
human
That, and because they defend the faith of Christ. And therefore, I am also very devoted to San Fernando, that pious and valiant leader. I have him framed in my parlor, and around him on the wall, I have stuck little paper soldiers, thinking it would be pleasing to the saint, who all his life saw himself surrounded by soldiers. When Rita was about twelve years old, I went to Sevilla, and she gave me a shilling to buy her a little comb. I passed by the shop of an old man who had a lot of little paper soldiers exposed for sale. What a guard for my saint, I thought; but my quarters were all spent. I had nothing left but Rita's shilling. The price of the set was a shilling. Go along, said I to myself, it is better that Rita should do without the bauble than my saint without his guard; and I bought them. I told Rita, and it was the truth, that my money did not hold out. The next day when I was taking them out to stick them up around the picture of the king, Rita came into the room. 'So then,' she said, 'you had money enough to buy these dirty soldiers, and not enough for my little comb,' and she snatched them from my hands to throw them out of the window. 'Child,' I screamed, 'you are throwing my heart into the street with the soldiers!' And seeing that she paid me no attention, I caught up the broom and beat her. The only time I ever beat her in my life.
gpt
It would have been better for you, said Pedro,
human
Who can please you, Uncle Pedro? said Rita.
gpt
My mother erred in not chastising her child, and I err in not spoiling mine.
human
Daughter! replied Pedro,
gpt
But since you like soldiers so much, mother, proceeded Rita,
human
I love soldiers because they suffer and pass through so much, and for the same reason, I wished to save my nephew.
gpt
How I laughed then! continued Rita, directing her conversation to Ventura.
human
Her grace burned lights to all the saints while the lots were being drawn. As she had not candlesticks, she stuck empty shells to the walls with cement; put wicks in them; filled them with oil, and began to pray. While she was praying, in came Miguel's mother, and told her that he had been drafted. My mother, on hearing that, put out the lights, as if to say to the saints, 'Stay in the dark now, I need you no longer!'
gpt
How you talk, Rita, answered the good Maria.
human
I trust that God does not so judge our hearts. I resigned myself, my daughter. I resigned myself, because he had made known his pleasure, and when God will not, the saints cannot.