Megan looked around the room and exclaimed, "It's lovely."

Amparo Jirón swung around in anger, thinking that Megan was being sarcastic."Who the hell are you to complain about—?"

"It's so large," Megan went on.

Amparo looked at her a moment, then laughed. Of course it would seem large compared to the cells that the sisters lived in.

Amparo started to get undressed.

Megan could not help staring at her. It was the first time she had really looked at Amparo Jirón in the daylight. The woman was beautiful, in an earthy way. She had red hair,

white skin, and was full-breasted, with a small waist and hips that swayed as she moved.

Amparo saw her watching. "Sister—would you tell me something? Why would anyone join a convent?"

It was a simple question to answer. "What could be more wonderful than to devote oneself to the glory of God?"

"Offhand, I could think of a thousand things." Amparo walked over to the bed and sat down. "You can sleep on the cot. From what I've heard about convents, your God doesn't want you to be too comfortable."

Megan smiled. "It doesn't matter. I'm comfortable inside."

In their room across the corridor, Jaime Miró was stretching out on the bed. Felix Carpio was trying to get settled on the small cot. Both men were fully dressed.

Jaime's gun was under his pillow. Felix's gun was on the small, battered table next to him.

"What do you think makes them do it?" Felix wondered aloud.

"Do what, amigo?"

"Lock themselves up in a convent all their lives like prisoners."

Jaime Miró shrugged. "Ask the sister. I wish to hell we were traveling alone. I have a bad feeling about this."

"Jaime, God will thank us for this good deed."

"Do you really believe that? Don't make me laugh."

Felix did not pursue the subject. It was not tactful to discuss the Catholic Church with Jaime. The two men were silent, each preoccupied with his own thoughts.

Felix Carpio was thinking: God put the sisters in our hands. We must get them to a convent safely.

Jaime was thinking about Amparo. He wanted her badly now.

That damned nun. He started to pull up the covers when he realized there was something he still had to do.

In the small, dark lobby downstairs, the room clerk sat quietly, waiting until he was sure that the new guests were asleep. His heart was pounding as he picked up the telephone and dialed a number.

A lazy voice answered, "Police headquarters." The clerk whispered into the telephone to his nephew, "Florian, I have

Jaime Miró and three of his people here. How would you like the honor of capturing them?"

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Ninety miles to the east, in a wooded area along the way to Penafiel, Lucia Carmine was asleep. Rubio Arzano sat watching her, reluctant to awaken her. She sleeps like an angel, he thought.

But it was almost dawn, time to be moving on.

Rubio leaned over and whispered gently in her ear, "Sister

Lucia…"

Lucia opened her eyes.

"It is time for us to go."

She yawned and stretched lazily. The blouse she was wearing had become unbuttoned and part of her breast was showing. Rubio hastily looked away.

I must guard my thoughts. She is the bride of Jesus.

"Sister…"

"Yes?"

"I—I wonder if I could ask a favor of you." He was almost blushing.

"Yes?"

"I—it's been a long time since I prayed. But I was brought up a Catholic. Would you mind saying a prayer?"

That was the last thing Lucia had expected.

How long has it been since I said a prayer! she wondered.

The convent did not count. While the others were praying, her mind had been busy with plans to escape.

"I—I don't—"

"I'm sure it would make us both feel better."

How could she explain that she did not remember any prayers? "I—er—" Yes. There was one she remembered. She had been a little girl kneeling at her bedside and her father had stood beside her, ready to tuck her into bed. Slowly, the words of the Twenty-third Psalm started to come back to her.

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake…"

Memories came flooding back.

She and her father had owned the world. And he had been so proud of her.

You were born under a lucky star, faccia d'angelo.

And hearing that, Lucia had felt lucky and beautiful.

Nothing could ever hurt her. Was she not the beautiful daughter of the great Angelo Carmine?

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil…"

The evil ones were the enemies of her father and brothers.

And she had made them pay.

"For thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me…"

Where was God when I needed comforting?

"Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over…"

She was speaking more slowly now, her voice a whisper.

What had happened, she wondered, to the little girl in the white communion dress? The future had been so golden. Somehow it had all gone wrong. Everything. I've lost my father and my brothers and myself.

In the convent she had not thought about God. But now, out here with this simple peasant…

Would you mind saying a prayer for us?

Lucia went on. "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the

Lord for ever."

Rubio was watching her, moved.

"Thank you, Sister."

Lucia nodded, unable to speak. What's the matter with me?

Lucia asked herself.

"Are you ready, Sister?"

She looked at Rubio Arzano and said, "Yes. I'm ready."

Five minutes later they were on their way.

They were caught in a sudden downpour and took shelter in a deserted cabin. The rain beat against the roof and sides of the cabin like angry fists.

"Do you think the storm will ever let up?"

Rubio smiled. "It's not a real storm, Sister. It's what we

Basques call a sirimiri. It will stop as quickly as it started. The earth is dry right now. It needs this rain."

"Really?"

"Yes. I'm a farmer."

It shows, Lucia thought.

"Forgive me for saying this, Sister, but you and I have a lot in common."

Lucia looked over at the bumbling hayseed and thought:

That will be the day. "We do?"

"Yes. I truly believe that in many ways being on a farm must be much like being in a convent."

The connection eluded her. "I don't understand."

"Well, Sister, in a convent you think a lot about God and

His miracles. Is that not true?"

"Yes."

"In a sense a farm is God. One is surrounded by creation.

All the things that grow from God's earth, whether it's wheat or olives or grapes—everything comes from God, does it not?

These are all miracles, and you watch them happen every day,

and because you help them grow, you are a part of the miracle."

Lucia had to smile at the enthusiasm in his voice.

Suddenly the rain stopped.

"We can move on now, Sister."

"We will be coming to the Duero River soon," Rubio said.

"The Penafiel Falls is just ahead of us. We will go on to

Aranda de Duero and then Logroño, where we will meet the others."

You'll be going to those places, Lucia thought. And good luck to you. I'll be in Switzerland, my friend.

They heard the sound of the falls half an hour before they reached them. The Penafiel Falls was a beautiful sight cascading down into the swift-moving river. The roar of it was almost deafening.

"I want to bathe," Lucia said. It seemed years since she had last had a bath.