THE BRIDGE OF SAN LUIS REY
trust. But when she stood near him he turned sideways and looked away.
“I want you to help me. Won’t you come in and see your brother? Won’t you come in and help me?”
“No.”
“You won’t help me!” A long pause. Suddenly as she stood there full of her helplessness there flashed through her mind an incident of many years before: the twin brothers about fifteen years old were sitting at her knee and she was telling them the story of the crucifixion. Their large grave eyes were fixed upon her lips. Suddenly Manuel had cried out loudly: “If Esteban and I had been there we would have prevented it.”
“Well, then, if you won’t help me, will you tell me which you are?”
“Manuel,” said Esteban.
“Manuel, won’t you come and sit with me up there for just a short time?”
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