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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/1388-0.txt b/1388-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9730e59 --- /dev/null +++ b/1388-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1058 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1388 *** + +PADRE IGNACIO + +Or The Song of Temptation + +By Owen Wister + + + + + +I + +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!" + +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. + +"For a day, one single day of Paris!" repeated the Padre, gazing through +his cloisters at the empty sea. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +[musical score appears here] + +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?" + +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?" + +"Yes, father, surely." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Perhaps," ventured Felipe, "the Americanos--" + +"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." + +The Padre retired once more to the sacristy, while the horse that +brought Temptation came over the hill. + +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." + +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. + +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: + + "Ah, voile man envie, + Voila mon seul desir: + Rendez moi ma patrie, + Ou laissez moi mourir." + +Which may be rendered: + + But one wish I implore, + One wish is all my cry: + Give back my native land once more, + Give back, or let me die. + +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. + + + + +II + +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--" + +"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. + +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." + +The Padre's hand waved a polite negative. + +"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." + +"Is that something new?" inquired the Padre, eagerly. + +The young man gave an exclamation. "The whole world is ringing with it!" +he cried. + +"But Santa Ysabel del Mar is a long way from the whole world," murmured +Padre Ignacio. + +"Indeed, it would not appear to be so," returned young Gaston. "I think +the Comedie Francaise must be round the corner." + +A thrill went through the priest at the theater's name. "And have you +been long in America?" he asked. + +"Why, always--except two years of foreign travel after college." + +"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. + +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. + +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?" + +"With your leave," answered Gaston, "I will have such an intention no +longer." + +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. + +"And have you been in America long?" inquired Gaston. + +"Twenty years." + +"And at Santa Ysabel how long?" + +"Twenty years." + +"I should have thought," said Gaston, looking lightly at the desert +and unpeopled mountains, "that now and again you might have wished to +travel." + +"Were I your age," murmured Padre Ignacio, "it might be so." + +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. + +"I have seen a sight like this," said Gaston, "between Granada and +Malaga." + +"So you know Spain!" said the Padre. + +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. + +"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." + +"The Quai Voltaire!" said the Padre. + +"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." + +The Padre gazed down at his blithe guest. "To see somebody, somebody, +once again, is very pleasant to a hermit!" + +"It cannot be more pleasant than arriving at an oasis," returned Gaston. + +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." + +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. + +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: + +"I fear I am no scholar, sir. But I know what writers every gentleman +ought to respect." + +The polished Padre bowed gravely to this compliment. + +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." + +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?" + +"Yes," said Gaston, among the music. "I was at Cordova then." + +"Ah, Cordova!" murmured the Padre. + +"Semiramide!" cried Gaston, lighting upon that opera. "That was a week! +I should like to live it over, every day and night of it!" + +"Did you reach Malaga from Marseilles or Gibraltar?" asked the Padre, +wistfully. + +"From Marseilles. Down from Paris through the Rhone Valley, you know." + +"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." + +"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." + +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!" + +"I will make you a little confession," said Padre Ignacio, "and then you +shall give me a little absolution." + +"For a penance," said Gaston, "you must play over some of these things +to me." + +"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--" + +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! + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + +Then the host remembered his guest. "I am ashamed of my selfishness," he +said. "It is already to-morrow." + +"I have sat later in less good company," answered the pleasant Gaston. +"And I shall sleep all the sounder for making a convert." + +"You have dispensed roadside alms," said the Padre, smiling, "and that +should win excellent dreams." + +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. + + + + +III + +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. + +"And you still forgive Verdi the sins of his youth?" he said to his +host. "I wonder if you could forgive mine?" + +"Verdi has left his behind him," retorted the Padre. + +"But I am only twenty-five!" exclaimed Gaston, pathetically. + +"Ah, don't go away soon!" pleaded the exile. It was the first +unconcealed complaint that had escaped him, and he felt instant shame. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Too safe!" These echoed words upon the lips of the pale Padre were a +whisper too light, too deep, for Gaston's heedless ear. + +"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." + +"Absent!" Still lighter, still deeper, was this whisper that the Padre +breathed. + +"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--" + +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. + +"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." + +"I have not said so, my son." + +"I did what every gentleman would do." insisted Gaston. + +"And that is often wrong!" said the Padre, gently and gravely. "But I'm +not your confessor." + +"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--" + +"Claim the pressed flower?" suggested the Padre. He did not smile. + +"Ah, you remember how those things are!" said Gaston: and he laughed and +blushed. + +"Yes," said the Padre, looking at the anchored barkentine, "I remember +how those things are." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Do you know, I do not believe," said he, "that I should ever reach such +contentment as yours." + +"Perhaps you will," said Padre Ignacio, in a low voice. + +"Never!" declared the youth. "It comes only to the few, I am sure." + +"Yes. Only to the few," murmured the Padre. + +"I am certain that it must be a great possession," Gaston continued; +"and yet--and yet--dear me! life is a splendid thing!" + +"There are several ways to live it," said the Padre. + +"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." + +"But it is not a dream," said the Padre. + +"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?" + +"There is no aristocracy of souls," said the Padre, again whispering. + +"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." + +Padre Ignacio was silent for a space. + +"I have not offended you?" asked the young man. + +"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?" + +"I had not intended any impertinent--" + +"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." + +So they picketed the mules near the stream and sat down. + + + + +IV + +"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." + +"Yes," said Gaston Villere. Then, thinking of himself, "I can understand +it in a man like you." + +"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." + +"Amen!" said Gaston, strangely moved. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + + + + +V + +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. + +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?" + +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." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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!" + +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. + +"Has the Padre any mall for Santa Barbara?" asked Felipe. "The ship +bound southward should be here to-morrow." + +"I will attend to it," said the priest, not moving. And Felipe stole +away. + +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. + + + + +VI + +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. + +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. + +"You are connected with the mission here?" he inquired. + +"I--am." + +"Perhaps it is with you that Gaston Villere stopped?" + +"The young man from New Orleans? Yes. I am Padre Ignacio." + +"Then you'll save me a journey. I promised him to deliver these into +your own hands." + +The stranger gave them to him. + +"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." + +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: + +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. + +"'At Santa Ysabel del Mar, where your feet would often pass.'" The +priest repeated this final sentence aloud, without being aware of it. + +"Those are the last words he ever spoke," said the stranger, "except +bidding me good-by." + +"You knew him well, then?" + +"No; not until after he was hurt. I'm the man he quarreled with." + +The priest looked at the ship that would sail onward this afternoon. + +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." + +"It is nothing," answered the stranger, awkwardly. "He told me you set +great store on a new organ." + +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. + +With it departed Temptation for ever. + +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. + +[Musical score appears here] + +For the repose of Gaston's young, world-loving spirit, they sang all +that he had taught them of Il Trovatore. + +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. + +"Still," they said, "he is not old." And as the months went by they +would repeat: "We shall have him yet for many years." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Padre Ignacio, by Owen Wister + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1388 *** diff --git a/1388-h/1388-h.htm b/1388-h/1388-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7bc9791 --- /dev/null +++ b/1388-h/1388-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1322 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?> + +<!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> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1388 ***</div> + <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> + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1388 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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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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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 + +Posting Date: August 21, 2008 [EBook #1388] +Release Date: July, 1998 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PADRE IGNACIO *** + + + + +Produced by Bill Brewer + + + + + +PADRE IGNACIO + +Or The Song of Temptation + +By Owen Wister + + + + + +I + +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!" + +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. + +"For a day, one single day of Paris!" repeated the Padre, gazing through +his cloisters at the empty sea. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +[musical score appears here] + +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?" + +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?" + +"Yes, father, surely." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Perhaps," ventured Felipe, "the Americanos--" + +"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." + +The Padre retired once more to the sacristy, while the horse that +brought Temptation came over the hill. + +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." + +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. + +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: + + "Ah, voile man envie, + Voila mon seul desir: + Rendez moi ma patrie, + Ou laissez moi mourir." + +Which may be rendered: + + But one wish I implore, + One wish is all my cry: + Give back my native land once more, + Give back, or let me die. + +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. + + + + +II + +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--" + +"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. + +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." + +The Padre's hand waved a polite negative. + +"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." + +"Is that something new?" inquired the Padre, eagerly. + +The young man gave an exclamation. "The whole world is ringing with it!" +he cried. + +"But Santa Ysabel del Mar is a long way from the whole world," murmured +Padre Ignacio. + +"Indeed, it would not appear to be so," returned young Gaston. "I think +the Comedie Francaise must be round the corner." + +A thrill went through the priest at the theater's name. "And have you +been long in America?" he asked. + +"Why, always--except two years of foreign travel after college." + +"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. + +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. + +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?" + +"With your leave," answered Gaston, "I will have such an intention no +longer." + +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. + +"And have you been in America long?" inquired Gaston. + +"Twenty years." + +"And at Santa Ysabel how long?" + +"Twenty years." + +"I should have thought," said Gaston, looking lightly at the desert +and unpeopled mountains, "that now and again you might have wished to +travel." + +"Were I your age," murmured Padre Ignacio, "it might be so." + +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. + +"I have seen a sight like this," said Gaston, "between Granada and +Malaga." + +"So you know Spain!" said the Padre. + +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. + +"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." + +"The Quai Voltaire!" said the Padre. + +"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." + +The Padre gazed down at his blithe guest. "To see somebody, somebody, +once again, is very pleasant to a hermit!" + +"It cannot be more pleasant than arriving at an oasis," returned Gaston. + +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." + +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. + +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: + +"I fear I am no scholar, sir. But I know what writers every gentleman +ought to respect." + +The polished Padre bowed gravely to this compliment. + +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." + +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?" + +"Yes," said Gaston, among the music. "I was at Cordova then." + +"Ah, Cordova!" murmured the Padre. + +"Semiramide!" cried Gaston, lighting upon that opera. "That was a week! +I should like to live it over, every day and night of it!" + +"Did you reach Malaga from Marseilles or Gibraltar?" asked the Padre, +wistfully. + +"From Marseilles. Down from Paris through the Rhone Valley, you know." + +"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." + +"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." + +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!" + +"I will make you a little confession," said Padre Ignacio, "and then you +shall give me a little absolution." + +"For a penance," said Gaston, "you must play over some of these things +to me." + +"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--" + +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! + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + +Then the host remembered his guest. "I am ashamed of my selfishness," he +said. "It is already to-morrow." + +"I have sat later in less good company," answered the pleasant Gaston. +"And I shall sleep all the sounder for making a convert." + +"You have dispensed roadside alms," said the Padre, smiling, "and that +should win excellent dreams." + +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. + + + + +III + +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. + +"And you still forgive Verdi the sins of his youth?" he said to his +host. "I wonder if you could forgive mine?" + +"Verdi has left his behind him," retorted the Padre. + +"But I am only twenty-five!" exclaimed Gaston, pathetically. + +"Ah, don't go away soon!" pleaded the exile. It was the first +unconcealed complaint that had escaped him, and he felt instant shame. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Too safe!" These echoed words upon the lips of the pale Padre were a +whisper too light, too deep, for Gaston's heedless ear. + +"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." + +"Absent!" Still lighter, still deeper, was this whisper that the Padre +breathed. + +"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--" + +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. + +"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." + +"I have not said so, my son." + +"I did what every gentleman would do." insisted Gaston. + +"And that is often wrong!" said the Padre, gently and gravely. "But I'm +not your confessor." + +"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--" + +"Claim the pressed flower?" suggested the Padre. He did not smile. + +"Ah, you remember how those things are!" said Gaston: and he laughed and +blushed. + +"Yes," said the Padre, looking at the anchored barkentine, "I remember +how those things are." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Do you know, I do not believe," said he, "that I should ever reach such +contentment as yours." + +"Perhaps you will," said Padre Ignacio, in a low voice. + +"Never!" declared the youth. "It comes only to the few, I am sure." + +"Yes. Only to the few," murmured the Padre. + +"I am certain that it must be a great possession," Gaston continued; +"and yet--and yet--dear me! life is a splendid thing!" + +"There are several ways to live it," said the Padre. + +"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." + +"But it is not a dream," said the Padre. + +"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?" + +"There is no aristocracy of souls," said the Padre, again whispering. + +"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." + +Padre Ignacio was silent for a space. + +"I have not offended you?" asked the young man. + +"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?" + +"I had not intended any impertinent--" + +"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." + +So they picketed the mules near the stream and sat down. + + + + +IV + +"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." + +"Yes," said Gaston Villere. Then, thinking of himself, "I can understand +it in a man like you." + +"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." + +"Amen!" said Gaston, strangely moved. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + + + + +V + +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. + +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?" + +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." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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!" + +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. + +"Has the Padre any mall for Santa Barbara?" asked Felipe. "The ship +bound southward should be here to-morrow." + +"I will attend to it," said the priest, not moving. And Felipe stole +away. + +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. + + + + +VI + +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. + +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. + +"You are connected with the mission here?" he inquired. + +"I--am." + +"Perhaps it is with you that Gaston Villere stopped?" + +"The young man from New Orleans? Yes. I am Padre Ignacio." + +"Then you'll save me a journey. I promised him to deliver these into +your own hands." + +The stranger gave them to him. + +"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." + +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: + +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. + +"'At Santa Ysabel del Mar, where your feet would often pass.'" The +priest repeated this final sentence aloud, without being aware of it. + +"Those are the last words he ever spoke," said the stranger, "except +bidding me good-by." + +"You knew him well, then?" + +"No; not until after he was hurt. I'm the man he quarreled with." + +The priest looked at the ship that would sail onward this afternoon. + +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." + +"It is nothing," answered the stranger, awkwardly. "He told me you set +great store on a new organ." + +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. + +With it departed Temptation for ever. + +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. + +[Musical score appears here] + +For the repose of Gaston's young, world-loving spirit, they sang all +that he had taught them of Il Trovatore. + +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. + +"Still," they said, "he is not old." And as the months went by they +would repeat: "We shall have him yet for many years." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + + + + + +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.txt or 1388.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 + +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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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!" + +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. + +"For a day, one single day of Paris!" repeated the Padre, gazing through +his cloisters at the empty sea. + +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. + +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 unpeopIed 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. + +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. + +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. + +[musical score appears here] + +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?" + +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?" + +"Yes, father, surely." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Perhaps," ventured Felipe, "the Americanos--" + +"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." + +The Padre retired once more to the sacristy, while the horse that brought +Temptation came over the hill. + +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." + +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. + +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: + + "Ah, voile man envie, + Voila mon seul desir: + Rendez moi ma patrie, + Ou laissez moi mourir." + +Which may be rendered: + + But one wish I implore, + One wish is all my cry: + Give back my native land once more, + Give back, or let me die. + +Then it happened that his eye fell again upon the stranger near the door, +and he skaightway 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. + + + +II + +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--" + +"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. + +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." + +The Padre's hand waved a polite negative. + +"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." + +"Is that something new?" inquired the Padre, eagerly. + +The young man gave an exclamation. "The whole world is ringing with it!" +he cried. + +"But Santa YsabeI del Mar is a long way from the whole world," murmured +Padre Ignacio. + +"Indeed, it would not appear to be so," returned young Gaston. "I think +the Comedie Francaise must be round the corner." + +A thrill went through the priest at the theater's name. "And have you +been long in America?" he asked. + +"Why, always--except two years of foreign travel after college." + +"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. + +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. + +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?" + +"With your leave," answered Gaston, "I will have such an intention no +longer." + +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. + +"And have you been in America long?" inquired Gaston. + +"Twenty years." + +"And at Santa Ysabel how long?" + +"Twenty years." + +"I should have thought," said Gaston, looking lightly at the desert and +unpeopIed mountains, "that now and again you might have wished to +travel." + +"Were I your age," murmured Padre Ignacio, "it might be so." + +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. + +"I have seen a sight like this," said Gaston, "between Granada and +Malaga." + +"So you know Spain!" said the Padre. + +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. + +"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." + +"The Quai Voltaire!" said the Padre. + +"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 violon-cellist that is come up over there." + +The Padre gazed down at his blithe guest. "To see somebody, somebody, +once again, is very pleasant to a hermit!" + +"It cannot be more pleasant than arriving at an oasis," returned Gaston. + +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." + +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. + +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: + +"I fear I am no scholar, sir. But I know what writers every gentleman +ought to respect." + +The polished Padre bowed gravely to this compliment. + +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." + +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?" + +"Yes," said Gaston, among the music. "I was at Cordova then." + +"Ah, Cordova!" murmured the Padre. + +"Semiramide!" cried Gaston, lighting upon that opera. "That was a week!" +I should like to live it over, every day and night of it!" + +"Did you reach Malaga from Marseilles or Gibraltar?" asked the Padre, +wistfully. + +"From Marseilles. Down from Paris through the Rhone Valley, you know." + +"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." + +"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." + +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!" + +"I will make you a little confession," said Padre Ignacio, "and then you +shall give me a little absolution." + +"For a penance," said Gaston, "you must play over some of these things to +me." + +"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--" + +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! + +"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. + +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 YsabeI +del Mar, inviolate, feudal, remote. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + +Then the host remembered his guest. "I am ashamed of my selfishness," he +said. "It is already to-morrow." + +"I have sat later in less good company," answered the pleasant Gaston. +"And I shall sleep all the sounder for making a convert." + +"You have dispensed roadside alms," said the Padre, smiling, "and that +should win excellent dreams." + +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 ail. 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. + + + +III + +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. + +"And you still forgive Verdi the sins of his youth?" he said to his host. +"I wonder if you could forgive mine?" + +"Verdi has left his behind him," retorted the Padre. + +"But I am only twenty-five!" exclaimed Gaston, pathetically. + +"Ah, don't go away soon!" pleaded the exile. It was the first unconcealed +complaint that had escaped him, and he felt instant shame. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Too safe!" These echoed words upon the lips of the pale Padre were a +whisper too light, too deep, for Gaston's heedless ear. + +"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." + +"Absent!" Still lighter, still deeper, was this whisper that the Padre +breathed. + +"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--" + +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. + +"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." + +"I have not said so, my son." + +"I did what every gentleman would do." insisted Gaston. + +"And that is often wrong!" said the Padre, gently and gravely. "But I'm +not your confessor." + +"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--" + +"Claim the pressed flowrer?" suggested the Padre. He did not smile. + +"Ah, you remember how those things are!" said Gaston: and he laughed and +blushed. + +"Yes," said the Padre, looking at the anchored barkentine, "I remember +how those things are." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Do you know, I do not believe," said he, "that I should ever reach such +contentment as yours." + +"Perhaps you will," said Padre Ignacio, in a low voice. + +"Never!" declared the youth. "It comes only to the few, I am sure." + +"Yes. Only to the few," murmured the Padre. + +"I am certain that it must be a great possession," Gaston continued; +"and yet--and yet--dear me! life is a splendid thing!" + +"There are several ways to live it," said the Padre. + +"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." + +"But it is not a dream," said the Padre. + +"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?" + +"There is no aristocracy of souls," said the Padre, again whispering. + +"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." + +Padre Ignacio was silent for a space. + +"I have not offended you?" asked the young man. + +"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?" + +"I had not intended any impertinent--" + +"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." + +So they picketed the mules near the stream and sat down. + + + +IV + +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." + +"Yes," said Gaston Villere. Then, thinking of himself, "I can understand +it in a man like you." + +"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." + +"Amen!" said Gaston, strangely moved. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + + + +V + +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. + +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?" + +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." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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 +recepit. 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!" + +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. + +"Has the Padre any mall for Santa Barbara?" asked Felipe. "The ship +bound southward should be here to-morrow." + +"I will attend to it," said the priest, not moving. And Felipe stole +away. + +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. + + + +VIIt 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. + +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. + +"You are connected with the mission here?" he inquired. + +"I--am." + +"Perhaps it is with you that Gaston Villere stopped?" + +"The young man from New Orleans? Yes. I am Padre Ignacio." + +"Then you'll save me a journey. I promised him to deliver these into your +own hands." + +The stranger gave them to him. + +"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." + +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: + +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. + +"'At Santa Ysabel del Mar, where your feet would often pass.'" The priest +repeated this final sentence aloud, without being aware of it. + +"Those are the last words he ever spoke," said the stranger, "except +bidding me good-by." + +"You knew him well, then?" + +"No; not until after he was hurt. I'm the man he quarreled with." + +The priest looked at the ship that would sail onward this afternoon. + +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." + +"It is nothing," answered the stranger, awkwardly. "He told me you set +great store on a new organ." + +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. + +With it departed Temptation for ever. + +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. + +[Musical score appears here] + +For the repose of Gaston's young, world-loving spirit, they sang all that +he had taught them of Il Trovatore. + +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. + +"Still," they said, "he is not old." And as the months went by they would +repeat: "We shall have him yet for many years." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg text of Padre Ignacio, by Owen Wister + diff --git a/old/old/ignco10.zip b/old/old/ignco10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dfa2023 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/ignco10.zip |