***
As I arrived at my hotel, my rage died. Now there was nothing left to do but regret. I was glad, as any man who still feels the pains of conscious can be glad, that there were no police on the island to make me pay for my vandalism; at least not police as I knew them.
Why had I done this? Did I have to impose my beliefs on that man? Was I so hot-headed and stubborn that I could not allow a man to worship what and how he pleased; and if I thought him wrong, certainly that had not been the way to set him on the right course; in fact, it had probably done the opposite. Had God sent me as a destroying angel? Did I have that right? No. I felt ashamed of being such a proud man, so full of self-righteousness.
I didn’t see Blanca for the rest of that day, nor did I care to, for I wanted nothing to interrupt my escape. I couldn’t let anyone else know me that day, hoping word of what I’d done would not find its way to Blanca by nightfall; telling her what sort of fool I’d been. At least, I hoped, the news would wait until some other time, when I could deny the whole thing and be able to stomach the lie.