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diff --git a/old/1388-h/1388-h.htm b/old/1388-h/1388-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ae6df66 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1388-h/1388-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1724 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="us-ascii"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Padre Ignacio, by Owen Wister + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Padre Ignacio, by Owen Wister + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Padre Ignacio + Or The Song of Temptation + +Author: Owen Wister + +Release Date: August 21, 2008 [EBook #1388] +Last Updated: January 15, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PADRE IGNACIO *** + + + + +Produced by Bill Brewer, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + PADRE IGNACIO + </h1> + <h2> + Or The Song of Temptation + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Owen Wister + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Contents + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> VI </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <p> + At Santa Ysabel del Mar the season was at one of those moments when the + air rests quiet over land and sea. The old breezes were gone; the new ones + were not yet risen. The flowers in the mission garden opened wide; no wind + came by day or night to shake the loose petals from their stems. Along the + basking, silent, many-colored shore gathered and lingered the crisp odors + of the mountains. The dust hung golden and motionless long after the rider + was behind the hill, and the Pacific lay like a floor of sapphire, whereon + to walk beyond the setting sun into the East. One white sail shone there. + Instead of an hour, it had been from dawn till afternoon in sight between + the short headlands; and the Padre had hoped that it might be the ship his + homesick heart awaited. But it had slowly passed. From an arch in his + garden cloisters he was now watching the last of it. Presently it was + gone, and the great ocean lay empty. The Padre put his glasses in his lap. + For a short while he read in his breviary, but soon forgot it again. He + looked at the flowers and sunny ridges, then at the huge blue triangle of + sea which the opening of the hills let into sight. "Paradise," he + murmured, "need not hold more beauty and peace. But I think I would + exchange all my remaining years of this for one sight again of Paris or + Seville. May God forgive me such a thought!" + </p> + <p> + Across the unstirred fragrance of oleanders the bell for vespers began to + ring. Its tones passed over the Padre as he watched the sea in his garden. + They reached his parishioners in their adobe dwellings near by. The gentle + circles of sound floated outward upon the smooth, immense silence—over + the vines and pear-trees; down the avenues of the olives; into the planted + fields, whence women and children began to return; then out of the lap of + the valley along the yellow uplands, where the men that rode among the + cattle paused, looking down like birds at the map of their home. Then the + sound widened, faint, unbroken, until it met Temptation in the guise of a + youth, riding toward the Padre from the South, and cheered the steps of + Temptation's jaded horse. + </p> + <p> + "For a day, one single day of Paris!" repeated the Padre, gazing through + his cloisters at the empty sea. + </p> + <p> + Once in the year the mother-world remembered him. Once in the year, from + Spain, tokens and home-tidings came to him, sent by certain beloved + friends of his youth. A barkentine brought him these messages. Whenever + thus the mother-world remembered him, it was like the touch of a warm + hand, a dear and tender caress; a distant life, by him long left behind, + seemed to be drawing the exile homeward from these alien shores. As the + time for his letters and packets drew near, the eyes of Padre Ignacio + would be often fixed wistfully upon the harbor, watching for the + barkentine. Sometimes, as to-day, he mistook other sails for hers, but + hers he mistook never. That Pacific Ocean, which, for all its hues and + jeweled mists, he could not learn to love, had, since long before his day, + been furrowed by the keels of Spain. Traders, and adventurers, and men of + God had passed along this coast, planting their colonies and cloisters; + but it was not his ocean. In the year that we, a thin strip of patriots + away over on the Atlantic edge of the continent, declared ourselves an + independent nation, a Spanish ship, in the name of Saint Francis, was + unloading the centuries of her own civilization at the Golden Gate. San + Diego had come earlier. Then, slowly, as mission after mission was built + along the soft coast wilderness, new ports were established—at Santa + Barbara, and by Point San Luis for San Luis Obispo, which lay inland a + little way up the gorge where it opened among the hills. Thus the world + reached these missions by water; while on land, through the mountains, a + road led to them, and also to many more that were too distant behind the + hills for ships to serve—a rough road, long and lonely, punctuated + with church towers and gardens. For the Fathers gradually so stationed + their settlements that the traveler might each morning ride out from one + mission and by evening of a day's fair journey ride into the next. A + lonely, rough, dangerous road, but lovely, too, with a name like music—El + Camino Real. Like music also were the names of the missions—San Juan + Capistrano, San Luis Rey de Francia, San Miguel, Santa Ynes—their + very list is a song. + </p> + <p> + So there, by-and-by, was our continent, with the locomotive whistling from + Savannah to Boston along its eastern edge, and on the western the + scattered chimes of Spain ringing among the unpeopled mountains. Thus grew + the two sorts of civilization—not equally. We know what has happened + since. To-day the locomotive is whistling also from The Golden Gate to San + Diego; but still the old mission-road goes through the mountains, and + along it the footsteps of vanished Spain are marked with roses, and broken + cloisters, and the crucifix. + </p> + <p> + But this was 1855. Only the barkentine brought to Padre Ignacio the signs + from the world that he once had known and loved so dearly. As for the new + world making a rude noise to the northward, he trusted that it might keep + away from Santa Ysabel, and he waited for the vessel that was overdue with + its package containing his single worldly luxury. + </p> + <p> + As the little, ancient bronze bell continued swinging in the tower, its + plaintive call reached something in the Padre's memory. Softly, absently, + he began to sing. He took up the slow strain not quite correctly, and + dropped it, and took it up again, always in cadence with the bell. + </p> + <p> + [musical score appears here] + </p> + <p> + At length he heard himself, and, glancing at the belfry, smiled a little. + "It is a pretty tune," he said, "and it always made me sorry for poor Fra + Diavolo. Auber himself confessed to me that he had made it sad and put the + hermitage bell to go with it, because he too was grieved at having to kill + his villain, and wanted him, if possible, to die in a religious frame of + mind. And Auber touched glasses with me and said—how well I remember + it!—'Is it the good Lord, or is it merely the devil, that makes me + always have a weakness for rascals?' I told him it was the devil. I was + not a priest then. I could not be so sure with my answer now." And then + Padre Ignacio repeated Auber's remark in French: "'Est-ce le bon Dieu, oui + est-ce bien le diable, qui veut tonjours que j'aime les coquins?' I don't + know! I don't know! I wonder if Auber has composed anything lately? I + wonder who is singing 'Zerlina' now?" + </p> + <p> + He cast a farewell look at the ocean, and took his steps between the + monastic herbs, the jasmines and the oleanders to the sacristy. "At + least," he said, "if we cannot carry with us into exile the friends and + the places we have loved, music will go whither we go, even to an end of + the world such as this.—Felipe!" he called to his organist. "Can + they sing the music I taught them for the Dixit Dominus to-night?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, father, surely." + </p> + <p> + "Then we will have that. And, Felipe—" The Padre crossed the chancel + to the small, shabby organ. "Rise, my child, and listen. Here is something + you can learn. Why, see now if you cannot learn it from a single hearing." + </p> + <p> + The swarthy boy of sixteen stood watching his master's fingers, delicate + and white, as they played. Thus, of his own accord, he had begun to watch + them when a child of six; and the Padre had taken the wild, half-scared, + spellbound creature and made a musician of him. + </p> + <p> + "There, Felipe!" he said now. "Can you do it? Slower, and more softly, + muchacho mio. It is about the death of a man, and it should go with our + bell." + </p> + <p> + The boy listened. "Then the father has played it a tone too low," said he, + "for our bell rings the note of sol, or something very near it, as the + father must surely know." He placed the melody in the right key—an + easy thing for him; and the Padre was delighted. + </p> + <p> + "Ah, my Felipe," he exclaimed, "what could you and I not do if we had a + better organ! Only a little better! See! above this row of keys would be a + second row, and many more stops. Then we would make such music as has + never yet been heard in California. But my people are so poor and so few! + And some day I shall have passed from them, and it will be too late." + </p> + <p> + "Perhaps," ventured Felipe, "the Americanos—" + </p> + <p> + "They care nothing for us, Felipe. They are not of our religion—or + of any religion, from what I can hear. Don't forget my Dixit Dominus." + </p> + <p> + The Padre retired once more to the sacristy, while the horse that brought + Temptation came over the hill. + </p> + <p> + The hour of service drew near; and as the Padre waited he once again + stepped out for a look at the ocean; but the blue triangle of water lay + like a picture in its frame of land, bare as the sky. "I think, from the + color, though," said he, "that a little more wind must have begun out + there." + </p> + <p> + The bell rang a last short summons to prayer. Along the road from the + south a young rider, leading a pack-animal, ambled into the mission and + dismounted. Church was not so much in his thoughts as food and, after due + digestion, a bed; but the doors stood open, and, as everybody was passing + within them, more variety was to be gained by joining this company than by + waiting outside alone until they should return from their devotions. So he + seated himself in a corner near the entrance, and after a brief, jaunty + glance at the sunburned, shaggy congregation, made himself as comfortable + as might be. He had not seen a face worth keeping his eyes open for. The + simple choir and simple fold, gathered for even-song, paid him no + attention—a rough American bound for the mines was but an object of + aversion to them. + </p> + <p> + The Padre, of course, had been instantly aware of the stranger's presence. + To be aware of unaccustomed presences is the sixth sense with vicars of + every creed and heresy; and if the parish is lonely and the worshipers few + and seldom varying, a newcomer will gleam out like a new book to be read. + And a trained priest learns to read keenly the faces of those who assemble + to worship under his guidance. But American vagrants, with no thoughts + save of gold-digging, and an overweening illiterate jargon for speech, had + long ceased to interest this priest, even in his starvation for company + and talk from the outside world; and therefore after the intoning he sat + with his homesick thoughts unchanged, to draw both pain and enjoyment from + the music that he had set to the Dixit Dominus. He listened to the tender + chorus that opens William Tell; and, as the Latin psalm proceeded, + pictures of the past rose between him and the altar. One after another + came these strains he had taken from operas famous in their day, until at + length the Padre was murmuring to some music seldom long out of his heart—not + the Latin verse which the choir sang, but the original French words: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Ah, voile man envie, + Voila mon seul desir: + Rendez moi ma patrie, + Ou laissez moi mourir." +</pre> + <p> + Which may be rendered: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But one wish I implore, + One wish is all my cry: + Give back my native land once more, + Give back, or let me die. +</pre> + <p> + Then it happened that his eye fell again upon the stranger near the door, + and he straightway forgot his Dixit Dominus. The face of the young man was + no longer hidden by the slouching position he had at first taken. "I only + noticed his clothes at first," thought the Padre. Restlessness was plain + upon the handsome brow, and violence was in the mouth; but Padre Ignacio + liked the eyes. "He is not saying any prayers," he surmised, presently. "I + doubt if he has said any for a long while. And he knows my music. He is of + educated people. He cannot be American. And now—yes, he has taken—I + think it must be a flower, from his pocket. I shall have him to dine with + me." And vespers ended with rosy clouds of eagerness drifting across the + Padre's brain. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + But the stranger made his own beginning. As the priest came from the + church, the rebellious young figure was waiting. "Your organist tells me," + he said, impetuously, "that it is you who—" + </p> + <p> + "May I ask with whom I have the great pleasure of speaking?" said the + Padre, putting formality to the front and his pleasure out of sight. + </p> + <p> + The stranger's face reddened beneath its sun-beaten bronze, and he became + aware of the Padre's pale features, molded by refinement and the world. "I + beg your lenience," said he, with a graceful and confident utterance, as + of equal to equal. "My name is Gaston Villere, and it was time I should be + reminded of my manners." + </p> + <p> + The Padre's hand waved a polite negative. + </p> + <p> + "Indeed, yes, Padre. But your music has amazed me. If you carried such + associations as—Ah! the days and the nights!"—he broke off. + "To come down a California mountain and find Paris at the bottom! The + Huguenots, Rossini, Herold—I was waiting for Il Trovatore." + </p> + <p> + "Is that something new?" inquired the Padre, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + The young man gave an exclamation. "The whole world is ringing with it!" + he cried. + </p> + <p> + "But Santa Ysabel del Mar is a long way from the whole world," murmured + Padre Ignacio. + </p> + <p> + "Indeed, it would not appear to be so," returned young Gaston. "I think + the Comedie Francaise must be round the corner." + </p> + <p> + A thrill went through the priest at the theater's name. "And have you been + long in America?" he asked. + </p> + <p> + "Why, always—except two years of foreign travel after college." + </p> + <p> + "An American!" exclaimed the surprised Padre, with perhaps a tone of + disappointment in his voice. "But no Americans who are yet come this way + have been—have been"—he veiled the too-blunt expression of his + thought—"have been familiar with The Huguenots," he finished, making + a slight bow. + </p> + <p> + Villere took his under-meaning. "I come from New Orleans," he returned, + "and in New Orleans there live many of us who can recognize a—who + can recognize good music wherever we hear it." And he made a slight bow in + his turn. + </p> + <p> + The Padre laughed outright with pleasure and laid his hand upon the young + man's arm. "You have no intention of going away to-morrow, I trust?" + </p> + <p> + "With your leave," answered Gaston, "I will have such an intention no + longer." + </p> + <p> + It was with the air and gait of mutual understanding that the two now + walked on together toward the Padre's door. The guest was twenty-five, the + host sixty. + </p> + <p> + "And have you been in America long?" inquired Gaston. + </p> + <p> + "Twenty years." + </p> + <p> + "And at Santa Ysabel how long?" + </p> + <p> + "Twenty years." + </p> + <p> + "I should have thought," said Gaston, looking lightly at the desert and + unpeopled mountains, "that now and again you might have wished to travel." + </p> + <p> + "Were I your age," murmured Padre Ignacio, "it might be so." + </p> + <p> + The evening had now ripened to the long after-glow of sunset. The sea was + the purple of grapes, and wine-colored hues flowed among the high + shoulders of the mountains. + </p> + <p> + "I have seen a sight like this," said Gaston, "between Granada and + Malaga." + </p> + <p> + "So you know Spain!" said the Padre. + </p> + <p> + Often he had thought of this resemblance, but never till now met any one + to share his thought. The courtly proprietor of San Fernando and the other + patriarchal rancheros with whom he occasionally exchanged visits across + the wilderness knew hospitality and inherited gentle manners, sending to + Europe for silks and laces to give their daughters; but their eyes had not + looked upon Granada, and their ears had never listened to William Tell. + </p> + <p> + "It is quite singular," pursued Gaston, "how one nook in the world will + suddenly remind you of another nook that may be thousands of miles away. + One morning, behind the Quai Voltaire, an old, yellow house with rusty + balconies made me almost homesick for New Orleans." + </p> + <p> + "The Quai Voltaire!" said the Padre. + </p> + <p> + "I heard Rachel in Valerie that night," the young man went on. "Did you + know that she could sing, too. She sang several verses by an astonishing + little Jew violin-cellist that is come up over there." + </p> + <p> + The Padre gazed down at his blithe guest. "To see somebody, somebody, once + again, is very pleasant to a hermit!" + </p> + <p> + "It cannot be more pleasant than arriving at an oasis," returned Gaston. + </p> + <p> + They had delayed on the threshold to look at the beauty of the evening, + and now the priest watched his parishioners come and go. "How can one make + companions—" he began; then, checking himself, he said: "Their souls + are as sacred and immortal as mine, and God helps me to help them. But in + this world it is not immortal souls that we choose for companions; it is + kindred tastes, intelligences, and—and so I and my books are growing + old together, you see," he added, more lightly. "You will find my volumes + as behind the times as myself." + </p> + <p> + He had fallen into talk more intimate than he wished; and while the guest + was uttering something polite about the nobility of missionary work, he + placed him in an easy-chair and sought aguardiente for his immediate + refreshment. Since the year's beginning there had been no guest for him to + bring into his rooms, or to sit beside him in the high seats at table, set + apart for the gente fina. + </p> + <p> + Such another library was not then in California; and though Gaston + Villere, in leaving Harvard College, had shut Horace and Sophocles for + ever at the earliest instant possible under academic requirements, he knew + the Greek and Latin names that he now saw as well as he knew those of + Shakspere, Dante, Moliere, and Cervantes. These were here also; but it + could not be precisely said of them, either, that they made a part of the + young man's daily reading. As he surveyed the Padre's august shelves, it + was with a touch of the histrionic Southern gravity which his Northern + education had not wholly schooled out of him that he said: + </p> + <p> + "I fear I am no scholar, sir. But I know what writers every gentleman + ought to respect." + </p> + <p> + The polished Padre bowed gravely to this compliment. + </p> + <p> + It was when his eyes caught sight of the music that the young man felt + again at ease, and his vivacity returned to him. Leaving his chair, he + began enthusiastically to examine the tall piles that filled one side of + the room. The volumes lay piled and scattered everywhere, making a + pleasant disorder; and, as perfume comes from a flower, memories of + singers and chandeliers rose bright from the printed names. Norma, + Tancredi, Don Pasquale, La Vestale, dim lights in the fashions of to-day, + sparkled upon the exploring Gaston, conjuring the radiant halls of Europe + before him. "The Barber of Seville!" he presently exclaimed. "And I + happened to hear it in Seville." + </p> + <p> + But Seville's name brought over the Padre a new rush of home thoughts. "Is + not Andalusia beautiful?" he said. "Did you see it in April, when the + flowers come?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes," said Gaston, among the music. "I was at Cordova then." + </p> + <p> + "Ah, Cordova!" murmured the Padre. + </p> + <p> + "Semiramide!" cried Gaston, lighting upon that opera. "That was a week! I + should like to live it over, every day and night of it!" + </p> + <p> + "Did you reach Malaga from Marseilles or Gibraltar?" asked the Padre, + wistfully. + </p> + <p> + "From Marseilles. Down from Paris through the Rhone Valley, you know." + </p> + <p> + "Then you saw Provence! And did you go, perhaps, from Avignon to Nismes by + the Pont du Gard? There is a place I have made here—a little, little + place—with olive-trees. And now they have grown, and it looks + something like that country, if you stand in a particular position. I will + take you there to-morrow. I think you will understand what I mean." + </p> + <p> + "Another resemblance!" said the volatile and happy Gaston. "We both seem + to have an eye for them. But, believe me, Padre, I could never stay here + planting olives. I should go back and see the original ones—and then + I'd hasten on to Paris." + </p> + <p> + And, with a volume of Meyerbeer open in his hand, Gaston hummed: "'Robert, + Robert, toi que j'aime.' Why, Padre, I think that your library contains + none of the masses and all of the operas in the world!" + </p> + <p> + "I will make you a little confession," said Padre Ignacio, "and then you + shall give me a little absolution." + </p> + <p> + "For a penance," said Gaston, "you must play over some of these things to + me." + </p> + <p> + "I suppose I could not permit myself this luxury," began the Padre, + pointing to his operas, "and teach these to my choir, if the people had + any worldly associations with the music. But I have reasoned that the + music cannot do them harm—" + </p> + <p> + The ringing of a bell here interrupted him. "In fifteen minutes," he said, + "our poor meal will be ready for you." The good Padre was not quite + sincere when he spoke of a "poor meal." While getting the aguardiente for + his guest he had given orders, and he knew how well such orders would be + carried out. He lived alone, and generally supped simply enough, but not + even the ample table at San Fernando could surpass his own on occasions. + And this was for him indeed an occasion! + </p> + <p> + "Your half-breeds will think I am one of themselves," said Gaston, showing + his dusty clothes. "I am not fit to be seated with you." But he did not + mean this any more than his host had meant his remark about the food. In + his pack, which an Indian had brought from his horse, he carried some + garments of civilization. And presently, after fresh water and not a + little painstaking with brush and scarf, there came back to the Padre a + young guest whose elegance and bearing and ease of the great world were to + the exiled priest as sweet as was his traveled conversation. + </p> + <p> + They repaired to the hall and took their seats at the head of the long + table. For the Spanish centuries of stately custom lived at Santa Ysabel + del Mar, inviolate, feudal, remote. + </p> + <p> + They were the only persons of quality present; and between themselves and + the gente de razon a space intervened. Behind the Padre's chair stood an + Indian to waft upon him, and another stood behind the chair of Gaston + Villere. Each of these servants wore one single white garment, and offered + the many dishes to the gente fina and refilled their glasses. At the lower + end of the table a general attendant wafted upon mesclados—the + half-breeds. There was meat with spices, and roasted quail, with various + cakes and other preparations of grain; also the brown fresh olives and + grapes, with several sorts of figs and plums, and preserved fruits, and + white and red wine—the white fifty years old. Beneath the quiet + shining of candles, fresh-cut flowers leaned from vessels of old Mexican + and Spanish make. + </p> + <p> + There at one end of this feast sat the wild, pastoral, gaudy company, + speaking little over their food; and there at the other the pale Padre, + questioning his visitor about Rachel. The mere name of a street would + bring memories crowding to his lips; and when his guest told him of a new + play he was ready with old quotations from the same author. Alfred de + Vigny they spoke of, and Victor Hugo, whom the Padre disliked. Long after + the dulce, or sweet dish, when it was the custom for the vaqueros and the + rest of the retainers to rise and leave the gente fina to themselves, the + host sat on in the empty hail, fondly talking to his guest of his bygone + Paris and fondly learning of the later Paris that the guest had seen. And + thus the two lingered, exchanging their enthusiasms, while the candles + waned, and the long-haired Indians stood silent behind the chairs. + </p> + <p> + "But we must go to my piano," the host exclaimed. For at length they had + come to a lusty difference of opinion. The Padre, with ears critically + deaf, and with smiling, unconvinced eyes, was shaking his head, while + young Gaston sang Trovatore at him, and beat upon the table with a fork. + </p> + <p> + "Come and convert me, then," said Padre Ignacio, and he led the way. + "Donizetti I have always admitted. There, at least, is refinement. If the + world has taken to this Verdi, with his street-band music—But there, + now! Sit down and convert me. Only don't crush my poor little Erard with + Verdi's hoofs. I brought it when I came. It is behind the times, too. And, + oh, my dear boy, our organ is still worse. So old, so old! To get a proper + one I would sacrifice even this piano of mine in a moment—only the + tinkling thing is not worth a sou to anybody except its master. But there! + Are you quite comfortable?" And having seen to his guest's needs, and + placed spirits and cigars and an ash-tray within his reach, the Padre sat + himself comfortably in his chair to hear and expose the false doctrine of + Il Trovatore. + </p> + <p> + By midnight all of the opera that Gaston could recall had been played and + sung twice. The convert sat in his chair no longer, but stood singing by + the piano. The potent swing and flow of rhythms, the torrid, copious + inspiration of the South, mastered him. "Verdi has grown," he cried. + "Verdi is become a giant." And he swayed to the beat of the melodies, and + waved an enthusiastic arm. He demanded every note. Why did not Gaston + remember it all? But if the barkentine would arrive and bring the whole + music, then they would have it right! And he made Gaston teach him what + words he knew. "'Non ti scorder,'" he sang—"'non ti scordar di me.' + That is genius. But one sees how the world moves when one is out of it. 'A + nostri monti ritorneremo'; home to our mountains. Ah, yes, there is genius + again." And the exile sighed and his spirit voyaged to distant places, + while Gaston continued brilliantly with the music of the final scene. + </p> + <p> + Then the host remembered his guest. "I am ashamed of my selfishness," he + said. "It is already to-morrow." + </p> + <p> + "I have sat later in less good company," answered the pleasant Gaston. + "And I shall sleep all the sounder for making a convert." + </p> + <p> + "You have dispensed roadside alms," said the Padre, smiling, "and that + should win excellent dreams." + </p> + <p> + Thus, with courtesies more elaborate than the world has time for at the + present day, they bade each other good-night and parted, bearing their + late candles along the quiet halls of the mission. To young Gaston in his + bed easy sleep came without waiting, and no dreams at all. Outside his + open window was the quiet, serene darkness, where the stars shone clear, + and tranquil perfumes hung in the cloisters. But while the guest lay + sleeping all night in unchanged position like a child, up and down between + the oleanders went Padre Ignacio, walking until dawn. Temptation indeed + had come over the hill and entered the cloisters. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + Day showed the ocean's surface no longer glassy, but lying like a mirror + breathed upon; and there between the short headlands came a sail, gray and + plain against the flat water. The priest watched through his glasses, and + saw the gradual sun grow strong upon the canvas of the barkentine. The + message from his world was at hand, yet to-day he scarcely cared so much. + Sitting in his garden yesterday, he could never have imagined such a + change. But his heart did not hail the barkentine as usual. Books, music, + pale paper, and print—this was all that was coming to him, some of + its savor had gone; for the siren voice of Life had been speaking with him + face to face, and in his spirit, deep down, the love of the world was + restlessly answering it. Young Gaston showed more eagerness than the Padre + over this arrival of the vessel that might be bringing Trovatore in the + nick of time. Now he would have the chance, before he took his leave, to + help rehearse the new music with the choir. He would be a missionary, too: + a perfectly new experience. + </p> + <p> + "And you still forgive Verdi the sins of his youth?" he said to his host. + "I wonder if you could forgive mine?" + </p> + <p> + "Verdi has left his behind him," retorted the Padre. + </p> + <p> + "But I am only twenty-five!" exclaimed Gaston, pathetically. + </p> + <p> + "Ah, don't go away soon!" pleaded the exile. It was the first unconcealed + complaint that had escaped him, and he felt instant shame. + </p> + <p> + But Gaston was too much elated with the enjoyment of each new day to + comprehend the Padre's soul. The shafts of another's pain might hardly + pierce the bright armor of his gaiety. He mistook the priest's entreaty, + for anxiety about his own happy spirit. + </p> + <p> + "Stay here under your care?" he asked. "It would do me no good, Padre. + Temptation sticks closer to me than a brother!" and he gave that laugh of + his which had disarmed severer judges than his host. "By next week I + should have introduced some sin or other into your beautiful Garden of + Ignorance here. It will be much safer for your flock if I go and join the + other serpents at San Francisco." + </p> + <p> + Soon after breakfast the Padre had his two mules saddled, and he and his + guest set forth down the hills together to the shore. And, beneath the + spell and confidence of pleasant, slow riding and the loveliness of + everything, the young man talked freely of himself. + </p> + <p> + "And, seriously," said he, "if I missed nothing else at Santa Ysabel, I + should long for—how shall I say it?—for insecurity, for + danger, and of all kinds—not merely danger to the body. Within these + walls, beneath these sacred bells, you live too safe for a man like me." + </p> + <p> + "Too safe!" These echoed words upon the lips of the pale Padre were a + whisper too light, too deep, for Gaston's heedless ear. + </p> + <p> + "Why," the young man pursued in a spirit that was but half levity, "though + I yield often to temptation, at times I have resisted it, and here I + should miss the very chance to resist. Your garden could never be Eden for + me, because temptation is absent from it." + </p> + <p> + "Absent!" Still lighter, still deeper, was this whisper that the Padre + breathed. + </p> + <p> + "I must find life," exclaimed Gaston, "and my fortune at the mines, I + hope. I am not a bad fellow, Father. You can easily guess all the things I + do. I have never, to my knowledge, harmed any one. I didn't even try to + kill my adversary in an affair of honor. I gave him a mere flesh-wound, + and by this time he must be quite recovered. He was my friend. But as he + came between me—" + </p> + <p> + Gaston stopped, and the Padre, looking keenly at him, saw the violence + that he had noticed in church pass like a flame over the young man's + handsome face. + </p> + <p> + "That's nothing dishonorable," said Gaston, answering the priest's look. + And then, because this look made him not quite at his ease: "Perhaps a + priest might feel obliged to say it was dishonorable. She and her father + were—a man owes no fidelity before he is—but you might say + that had been dishonorable." + </p> + <p> + "I have not said so, my son." + </p> + <p> + "I did what every gentleman would do." insisted Gaston. + </p> + <p> + "And that is often wrong!" said the Padre, gently and gravely. "But I'm + not your confessor." + </p> + <p> + "No," said Gaston, looking down. "And it is all over. It will not begin + again. Since leaving New Orleans I have traveled an innocent journey + straight to you. And when I make my fortune I shall be in a position to + return and—" + </p> + <p> + "Claim the pressed flower?" suggested the Padre. He did not smile. + </p> + <p> + "Ah, you remember how those things are!" said Gaston: and he laughed and + blushed. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," said the Padre, looking at the anchored barkentine, "I remember how + those things are." + </p> + <p> + For a while the vessel and its cargo and the landed men and various + business and conversations occupied them. But the freight for the mission + once seen to, there was not much else to detain them. + </p> + <p> + The barkentine was only a coaster like many others which had begun to fill + the sea a little more of late years, and presently host and guest were + riding homeward. Side by side they rode, companions to the eye, but wide + apart in mood; within the turbulent young figure of Gaston dwelt a spirit + that could not be more at ease, while revolt was steadily kindling beneath + the schooled and placid mask of the Padre. + </p> + <p> + Yet still the strangeness of his situation in such a remote, resourceless + place came back as a marvel into the young man's lively mind. Twenty years + in prison, he thought, and hardly aware of it! And he glanced at the + silent priest. A man so evidently fond of music, of theaters, of the + world, to whom pressed flowers had meant something once—and now + contented to bleach upon these wastes! Not even desirous of a brief + holiday, but finding an old organ and some old operas enough recreation! + "It is his age, I suppose," thought Gaston. And then the notion of himself + when he should be sixty occurred to him, and he spoke. + </p> + <p> + "Do you know, I do not believe," said he, "that I should ever reach such + contentment as yours." + </p> + <p> + "Perhaps you will," said Padre Ignacio, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + "Never!" declared the youth. "It comes only to the few, I am sure." + </p> + <p> + "Yes. Only to the few," murmured the Padre. + </p> + <p> + "I am certain that it must be a great possession," Gaston continued; "and + yet—and yet—dear me! life is a splendid thing!" + </p> + <p> + "There are several ways to live it," said the Padre. + </p> + <p> + "Only one for me!" cried Gaston. "Action, men, women, things—to be + there, to be known, to play a part, to sit in the front seats; to have + people tell one another, 'There goes Gaston Villere!' and to deserve one's + prominence. Why, if I was Padre of Santa Ysabel del Mar for twenty years—no! + for one year—do you know what I should have done? Some day it would + have been too much for me. I should have left these savages to a pastor + nearer their own level, and I should have ridden down this canyon upon my + mule, and stepped on board the barkentine, and gone back to my proper + sphere. You will understand, sir, that I am far from venturing to make any + personal comment. I am only thinking what a world of difference lies + between natures that can feel as alike as we do upon so many subjects. + Why, not since leaving New Orleans have I met any one with whom I could + talk, except of the weather and the brute interests common to us all. That + such a one as you should be here is like a dream." + </p> + <p> + "But it is not a dream," said the Padre. + </p> + <p> + "And, sir—pardon me if I do say this—are you not wasted at + Santa Ysabel del Mar? I have seen the priests at the other missions. They + are—the sort of good men that I expected. But are you needed to save + such souls as these?" + </p> + <p> + "There is no aristocracy of souls," said the Padre, again whispering. + </p> + <p> + "But the body and the mind!" cried Gaston. "My God, are they nothing? Do + you think that they are given to us for nothing but a trap? You cannot + teach such a doctrine with your library there. And how about all the + cultivated men and women away from whose quickening society the brightest + of us grow numb? You have held out. But will it be for long? Are you never + to save any souls of your own kind? Are not twenty years of mesclados + enough? No, no!" finished young Gaston, hot with his unforeseen eloquence; + "I should ride down some morning and take the barkentine." + </p> + <p> + Padre Ignacio was silent for a space. + </p> + <p> + "I have not offended you?" asked the young man. + </p> + <p> + "No. Anything but that. You are surprised that I should—choose—to + stay here. Perhaps you may have wondered how I came to be here at all?" + </p> + <p> + "I had not intended any impertinent—" + </p> + <p> + "Oh no. Put such an idea out of your head, my son. You may remember that I + was going to make you a confession about my operas. Let us sit down in + this shade." + </p> + <p> + So they picketed the mules near the stream and sat down. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + "You have seen," began Padre Ignacio, "what sort of a man I—was + once. Indeed, it seems very strange to myself that you should have been + here not twenty-four hours yet, and know so much of me. For there has come + no one else at all"—the Padre paused a moment and mastered the + unsteadiness that he had felt approaching in his voice—"there has + been no one else to whom I have talked so freely. In my early days I had + no thought of being a priest. By parents destined me for a diplomatic + career. There was plenty of money and—and all the rest of it; for by + inheritance came to me the acquaintance of many people whose names you + would be likely to have heard of. Cities, people of fashion, artists—the + whole of it was my element and my choice; and by-and-by I married, not + only where it was desirable, but where I loved. Then for the first time + Death laid his staff upon my enchantment, and I understood many things + that had been only words to me hitherto. To have been a husband for a + year, and a father for a moment, and in that moment to lose all—this + unblinded me. Looking back, it seemed to me that I had never done anything + except for myself all my days. I left the world. In due time I became a + priest and lived in my own country. But my worldly experience and my + secular education had given to my opinions a turn too liberal for the + place where my work was laid. I was soon advised concerning this by those + in authority over me. And since they could not change me and I could them, + yet wished to work and to teach, the New World was suggested, and I + volunteered to give the rest of my life to missions. It was soon found + that some one was needed here, and for this little place I sailed, and to + these humble people I have dedicated my service. They are pastoral + creatures of the soil. Their vineyard and cattle days are apt to be like + the sun and storm around them—strong alike in their evil and in + their good. All their years they live as children—children with + men's passions given to them like deadly weapons, unable to measure the + harm their impulses may bring. Hence, even in their crimes, their hearts + will generally open soon to the one great key of love, while civilization + makes locks which that key cannot always fit at the first turn. And coming + to know this," said Padre Ignacio, fixing his eyes steadily upon Gaston, + "you will understand how great a privilege it is to help such people, and + how the sense of something accomplished—under God—should bring + Contentment with Renunciation." + </p> + <p> + "Yes," said Gaston Villere. Then, thinking of himself, "I can understand + it in a man like you." + </p> + <p> + "Do not speak of me at all!" exclaimed the Padre, almost passionately. + "But pray Heaven that you may find the thing yourself some day—Contentment + with Renunciation—and never let it go." + </p> + <p> + "Amen!" said Gaston, strangely moved. + </p> + <p> + "That is the whole of my story," the priest continued, with no more of the + recent stress in his voice. "And now I have talked to you about myself + quite enough. But you must have my confession." He had now resumed + entirely his half-playful tone. "I was just a little mistaken, you see—too + self-reliant, perhaps—when I supposed, in my first missionary ardor, + that I could get on without any remembrance of the world at all. I found + that I could not. And so I have taught the old operas to my choir—such + parts of them as are within our compass and suitable for worship. And + certain of my friends still alive at home are good enough to remember this + taste of mine and to send me each year some of the new music that I should + never hear of otherwise. Then we study these things also. And although our + organ is a miserable affair, Felipe manages very cleverly to make it do. + And while the voices are singing these operas, especially the old ones, + what harm is there if sometimes the priest is thinking of something else? + So there's my confession! And now, whether Trovatore is come or not, I + shall not allow you to leave us until you have taught all you know of it + to Felipe." + </p> + <p> + The new opera, however, had duly arrived. And as he turned its pages Padre + Ignacio was quick to seize at once upon the music that could be taken into + his church. Some of it was ready fitted. By that afternoon Felipe and his + choir could have rendered "Ah! se l' error t' ingombra" without slip or + falter. + </p> + <p> + Those were strange rehearsals of Il Trovatore upon this California shore. + For the Padre looked to Gaston to say when they went too fast or too slow, + and to correct their emphasis. And since it was hot, the little Erard + piano was carried each day out into the mission garden. There, in the + cloisters among the jessamine, the orange blossoms, the oleanders, in the + presence of the round yellow hills and the blue triangle of sea, the + Miserere was slowly learned. The Mexicans and Indians gathered, swarthy + and black-haired, around the tinkling instrument that Felipe played; and + presiding over them were young Gaston and the pale Padre, walking up and + down the paths, beating time or singing now one part and now another. And + so it was that the wild cattle on the uplands would hear Trovatore hummed + by a passing vaquero, while the same melody was filling the streets of the + far-off world. + </p> + <p> + For three days Gaston Villere remained at Santa Ysabel del Mar; and though + not a word of restlessness came from him, his host could read San + Francisco and the gold-mines in his countenance. No, the young man could + not have stayed here for twenty years! And the Padre forbore urging his + guest to extend his visit. + </p> + <p> + "But the world is small," the guest declared at parting. "Some day it will + not be able to spare you any longer. And then we are sure to meet. But you + shall hear from me soon, at any rate." + </p> + <p> + Again, as upon the first evening, the two exchanged a few courtesies, more + graceful and particular than we, who have not time, and fight no duels, + find worth a man's while at the present day. For duels are gone, which is + a very good thing, and with them a certain careful politeness, which is a + pity; but that is the way in the eternal profit and loss. So young Gaston + rode northward out of the mission, back to the world and his fortune; and + the Padre stood watching the dust after the rider had passed from sight. + Then he went into his room with a drawn face. But appearances at least had + been kept up to the end; the youth would never know of the elder man's + unrest. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V + </h2> + <p> + Temptation had arrived with Gaston, but was destined to make a longer stay + at Santa Ysabel del Mar. Yet it was perhaps a week before the priest knew + this guest was come to abide with him. The guest could be discreet, could + withdraw, was not at first importunate. + </p> + <p> + Sail away on the barkentine? A wild notion, to be sure! although fit + enough to enter the brain of such a young scape-grace. The Padre shook his + head and smiled affectionately when he thought of Gaston Villere. The + youth's handsome, reckless countenance would shine out, smiling, in his + memory, and he repeated Auber's old remark, "Is it the good Lord, or is it + merely the devil, that always makes me have a weakness for rascals?" + </p> + <p> + Sail away on the barkentine! Imagine taking leave of the people here—of + Felipe! In what words should he tell the boy to go on industriously with + his music? No, this was not imaginable! The mere parting alone would make + it for ever impossible to think of such a thing. "And then," he said to + himself each new morning, when he looked out at the ocean, "I have given + to them my life. One does not take back a gift." + </p> + <p> + Pictures of his departure began to shine and melt in his drifting fancy. + He saw himself explaining to Felipe that now his presence was wanted + elsewhere; that than would come a successor to take care of Santa Ysabel—a + younger man, more useful, and able to visit sick people at a distance. + </p> + <p> + "For I am old now. I should not be long has in any case." He stopped and + pressed his hands together; he had caught his Temptation in the very act. + Now he sat staring at his Temptation's face, close to him, while then in + the triangle two ships went sailing by. + </p> + <p> + One morning Felipe told him that the barkentine was here on its return + voyage south. "Indeed." said the Padre, coldly. "The things are ready to + go, I think." For the vessel called for mail and certain boxes that the + mission sent away. Felipe left the room in wonder at the Padre's manner. + But the priest was laughing secretly to see how little it was to him where + the barkentine was, or whether it should be coming or going. But in the + afternoon, at his piano, he found himself saying, "Other ships call here, + at any rate." And then for the first time he prayed to be delivered from + his thoughts. Yet presently he left his seat and looked out of the window + for a sight of the barkentine; but it was gone. + </p> + <p> + The season of the wine-making passed, and the preserving of all the fruits + that the mission fields grew. Lotions and medicines was distilled from + garden herbs. Perfume was manufactured from the petals of flowers and + certain spices, and presents of it despatched to San Fernando and Ventura, + and to friends at other places; for the Padre had a special receipt. As + the time ran on, two or three visitors passed a night with him; and + presently there was a word at various missions that Padre Ignacio had + begun to show his years. At Santa Ysabel del Mar they whispered, "The + Padre is not well." Yet he rode a great deal over the hills by himself, + and down the canyon very often, stopping where he had sat with Gaston, to + sit alone and look up and down, now at the hills above, and now at the + ocean below. Among his parishioners he had certain troubles to soothe, + certain wounds to heal; a home from which he was able to drive jealousy; a + girl whom he bade her lover set right. But all said, "The Padre is + unwell." And Felipe told them that the music seemed nothing to him any + more; he never asked for his Dixit Dominus nowadays. Then for a short time + he was really in bed, feverish with the two voices that spoke to him + without ceasing. "You have given your life," said one voice. "And, + therefore," said the other, "have earned the right to go home and die." + "You are winning better rewards in the service of God," said the first + voice. "God can be better served in other places," answered the second. As + he lay listening he saw Seville again, and the trees of Aranhal, where he + had been born. The wind was blowing through them, and in their branches he + could hear the nightingales. "Empty! Empty!" he said, aloud. And he lay + for two days and nights hearing the wind and the nightingales in the far + trees of Aranhal. But Felipe, watching, only heard the Padre crying + through the hours, "Empty! Empty!" + </p> + <p> + Then the wind in the trees died down, and the Padre could get out of bed, + and soon be in the garden. But the voices within him still talked all the + while as he sat watching the sails when they passed between the headlands. + Their words, falling for ever the same way, beat his spirit sore, like + blows upon flesh already bruised. If he could only change what they said, + he would rest. + </p> + <p> + "Has the Padre any mall for Santa Barbara?" asked Felipe. "The ship bound + southward should be here to-morrow." + </p> + <p> + "I will attend to it," said the priest, not moving. And Felipe stole away. + </p> + <p> + At Felipe's words the voices had stopped, as a clock finishes striking. + Silence, strained like expectation, filled the Padre's soul. But in place + of the voices came old sights of home again, the waving trees at Aranhal; + then it would be Rachel for a moment, declaiming tragedy while a houseful + of faces that he knew by name watched her; and through all the panorama + rang the pleasant laugh of Gaston. For a while in the evening the Padre + sat at his Erard playing Trovatore. Later, in his sleepless bed he lay, + saying now and then: "To die at home! Surely I may be granted at least + this." And he listened for the inner voices. But they were not speaking + any more, and the black hole of silence grew more dreadful to him than + their arguments. Then the dawn came in at his window, and he lay watching + its gray grow warm into color, until suddenly he sprang from his bed and + looked at the sea. Blue it lay, sapphire-hued and dancing with points of + gold, lovely and luring as a charm; and over its triangle the south-bound + ship was approaching. People were on board who in a few weeks would be + sailing the Atlantic, while he would stand here looking out of this same + window. "Merciful God!" he cried, sinking on his knees. "Heavenly Father, + Thou seest this evil in my heart! Thou knowest that my weak hand cannot + pluck it out! My strength is breaking, and still Thou makest my burden + heavier than I can bear." He stopped, breathless and trembling. The same + visions was flitting across his closed eyes; the same silence gaped like a + dry crater in his soul. "There is no help in earth or heaven," he said, + very quietly; and he dressed himself. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI + </h2> + <p> + It was still so early that few of the Indians were stirring, and one of + these saddled the Padre's mule. Felipe was not yet awake, and for a moment + it came in the priest's mind to open the boy's door softly, look at him + once more, and come away. But this he did not, nor even take a farewell + glance at the church and organ. He bade nothing farewell, but, turning his + back upon his room and his garden, rode down the canyon. + </p> + <p> + The vessel lay at anchor, and some one had landed from ha and was talking + with other men on the shore. Seeing the priest slowly coming, this + stranger approached to meet him. + </p> + <p> + "You are connected with the mission here?" he inquired. + </p> + <p> + "I—am." + </p> + <p> + "Perhaps it is with you that Gaston Villere stopped?" + </p> + <p> + "The young man from New Orleans? Yes. I am Padre Ignacio." + </p> + <p> + "Then you'll save me a journey. I promised him to deliver these into your + own hands." + </p> + <p> + The stranger gave them to him. + </p> + <p> + "A bag of gold-dust," he explained, "and a letter. I wrote it at his + dictation while he was dying. He lived hardly an hour afterward." + </p> + <p> + The stranger bowed his head at the stricken cry which his news elicited + from the priest, who, after a few moments' vain effort to speak, opened + the letter and read: + </p> + <p> + My dear Friend,—It is through no man's fault but mine that I have + come to this. I have had plenty of luck, and lately have been counting the + days until I should return home. But last night heavy news from New + Orleans reached me, and I tore the pressed flower to pieces. Under the + first smart and humiliation of broken faith I was rendered desperate, and + picked a needless quarrel. Thank God, it is I who have the punishment. By + dear friend, as I lie here, leaving a world that no man ever loved more, I + have come to understand you. For you and your mission have been much in my + thoughts. It is strange how good can be done, not at the time when it is + intended, but afterward; and you have done this good to me. I say over + your words, "Contentment with Renunciation," and believe that at this last + hour I have gained something like what you would wish me to feel. For I do + not think that I desire it otherwise now. My life would never have been of + service, I am afraid. You am the last person in this world who has spoken + serious words to me, and I want you to know that now at length I value the + peace of Santa Ysabel as I could never have done but for seeing your + wisdom and goodness. You spoke of a new organ for your church. Take the + gold-dust that will reach you with this, and do what you will with it. Let + me at least in dying have helped some one. And since them is no + aristocracy in souls—you said that to me; do you remember?—perhaps + you will say a mass for this departing soul of mine. I only wish, must my + body must go under ground in a strange country, that it might have been at + Santa Ysabel did Mar, where your feet would often pass. + </p> + <p> + "'At Santa Ysabel del Mar, where your feet would often pass.'" The priest + repeated this final sentence aloud, without being aware of it. + </p> + <p> + "Those are the last words he ever spoke," said the stranger, "except + bidding me good-by." + </p> + <p> + "You knew him well, then?" + </p> + <p> + "No; not until after he was hurt. I'm the man he quarreled with." + </p> + <p> + The priest looked at the ship that would sail onward this afternoon. + </p> + <p> + Then a smile of great beauty passed over his face, and he addressed the + strange. "I thank you. You will never know what you have done for me." + </p> + <p> + "It is nothing," answered the stranger, awkwardly. "He told me you set + great store on a new organ." + </p> + <p> + Padre Ignacio turned away from the ship and rode back through the gorge. + When he had reached the shady place where once he had sat with Gaston + Villere, he dismounted and again sat there, alone by the stream, for many + hours. Long rides and outings had been lately so much his custom that no + one thought twice of his absence; and when he resumed to the mission in + the afternoon, the Indian took his mule, and he went to his seat in the + garden. But it was with another look that he watched the sea; and + presently the sail moved across the blue triangle, and soon it had rounded + the headland. + </p> + <p> + With it departed Temptation for ever. + </p> + <p> + Gaston's first coming was in the Padre's mind; and, as the vespers bell + began to ring in the cloistered silence, a fragment of Auber's plaintive + tune passed like a sigh across his memory. + </p> + <p> + [Musical score appears here] + </p> + <p> + For the repose of Gaston's young, world-loving spirit, they sang all that + he had taught them of Il Trovatore. + </p> + <p> + After this day, Felipe and all those who knew and loved the Padre best, + saw serenity had returned to his features; but for some reason they began + to watch those features with more care. + </p> + <p> + "Still," they said, "he is not old." And as the months went by they would + repeat: "We shall have him yet for many years." + </p> + <p> + Thus the season rolled round, bringing the time for the expected messages + from the world. Padre Ignacio was wont to sit in his garden, waiting for + the ship, as of old. + </p> + <p> + "As of old," they said, cheerfully, who saw him. But Renunciation with + Contentment they could not see; it was deep down in his silent and thanked + heart. + </p> + <p> + One day Felipe went to call him from his garden seat, wondering why the + ringing of the bell had not brought him to vespers. Breviary in lap, and + hands folded upon it, the Padre sat among his flowers, looking at the sea. + Out there amid the sapphire-blue, tranquil and white, gleamed the sails of + the barkentine. It had brought him a new message, not from this world; and + Padre Ignacio was slowly borne in from the garden, while the mission-bell + tolled for the passing of a human soul. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Padre Ignacio, by Owen Wister + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PADRE IGNACIO *** + +***** This file should be named 1388-h.htm or 1388-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/8/1388/ + +Produced by Bill Brewer, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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