第2章

III

Dayshowedtheocean’ssurfacenolongerglassy，butlyinglikeamirrorbreathedupon；andtherebetweentheshortheadlandscameasail，grayandplainagainsttheflatwater。Thepriestwatchedthroughhisglasses，andsawthegradualsungrowstronguponthecanvasofthebarkentine。

Themessagefromhisworldwasathand，yetto—dayhescarcelycaredsomuch。Sittinginhisgardenyesterday，hecouldneverhaveimaginedsuchachange。Buthisheartdidnothailthebarkentineasusual。Books，music，palepaper，andprint——thiswasallthatwascomingtohim，someofitssavorhadgone；forthesirenvoiceofLifehadbeenspeakingwithhimfacetoface，andinhisspirit，deepdown，theloveoftheworldwasrestlesslyansweringit。YoungGastonshowedmoreeagernessthanthePadreoverthisarrivalofthevesselthatmightbebringingTrovatoreinthenickoftime。Nowhewouldhavethechance，beforehetookhisleave，tohelprehearsethenewmusicwiththechoir。Hewouldbeamissionary，too:aperfectlynewexperience。

"AndyoustillforgiveVerdithesinsofhisyouth？"hesaidtohishost。

"Iwonderifyoucouldforgivemine？"

"Verdihaslefthisbehindhim，"retortedthePadre。

"ButIamonlytwenty—five！"exclaimedGaston，pathetically。

"Ah，don’tgoawaysoon！"pleadedtheexile。Itwasthefirstunconcealedcomplaintthathadescapedhim，andhefeltinstantshame。

ButGastonwastoomuchelatedwiththeenjoymentofeachnewdaytocomprehendthePadre’ssoul。Theshaftsofanother’spainmighthardlypiercethebrightarmorofhisgaiety。Hemistookthepriest’sentreaty，foranxietyabouthisownhappyspirit。

"Stayhereunderyourcare？"heasked。"Itwoulddomenogood，Padre。

Temptationsticksclosertomethanabrother！"andhegavethatlaughofhiswhichhaddisarmedsevererjudgesthanhishost。"BynextweekI

shouldhaveintroducedsomesinorotherintoyourbeautifulGardenofIgnorancehere。ItwillbemuchsaferforyourflockifIgoandjointheotherserpentsatSanFrancisco。"

SoonafterbreakfastthePadrehadhistwomulessaddled，andheandhisguestsetforthdownthehillstogethertotheshore。And，beneaththespellandconfidenceofpleasant，slowridingandthelovelinessofeverything，theyoungmantalkedfreelyofhimself。

"And，seriously，"saidhe，"ifImissednothingelseatSantaYsabel，I

shouldlongfor——howshallIsayit？——forinsecurity，fordanger，andofallkinds——notmerelydangertothebody。Withinthesewalls，beneaththesesacredbells，youlivetoosafeforamanlikeme。"

"Toosafe！"TheseechoedwordsuponthelipsofthepalePadrewereawhispertoolight，toodeep，forGaston’sheedlessear。

"Why，"theyoungmanpursuedinaspiritthatwasbuthalflevity，"thoughIyieldoftentotemptation，attimesIhaveresistedit，andhereIshouldmisstheverychancetoresist。YourgardencouldneverbeEdenforme，becausetemptationisabsentfromit。"

"Absent！"Stilllighter，stilldeeper，wasthiswhisperthatthePadrebreathed。

"Imustfindlife，"exclaimedGaston，"andmyfortuneatthemines，I

hope。Iamnotabadfellow，Father。YoucaneasilyguessallthethingsIdo。Ihavenever，tomyknowledge，harmedanyone。Ididn’teventrytokillmyadversaryinanaffairofhonor。Igavehimamereflesh—wound，andbythistimehemustbequiterecovered。Hewasmyfriend。Butashecamebetweenme——"

Gastonstopped，andthePadre，lookingkeenlyathim，sawtheviolencethathehadnoticedinchurchpasslikeaflameovertheyoungman’shandsomeface。

"That’snothingdishonorable，"saidGaston，answeringthepriest’slook。

Andthen，becausethislookmadehimnotquiteathisease:"Perhapsapriestmightfeelobligedtosayitwasdishonorable。Sheandherfatherwere——amanowesnofidelitybeforeheis——butyoumightsaythathadbeendishonorable。"

"Ihavenotsaidso，myson。"

"Ididwhateverygentlemanwoulddo。"insistedGaston。

"Andthatisoftenwrong！"saidthePadre，gentlyandgravely。"ButI’mnotyourconfessor。"

"No，"saidGaston，lookingdown。"Anditisallover。Itwillnotbeginagain。SinceleavingNewOrleansIhavetraveledaninnocentjourneystraighttoyou。AndwhenImakemyfortuneIshallbeinapositiontoreturnand——"

"Claimthepressedflowrer？"suggestedthePadre。Hedidnotsmile。

"Ah，yourememberhowthosethingsare！"saidGaston:andhelaughedandblushed。

"Yes，"saidthePadre，lookingattheanchoredbarkentine，"Irememberhowthosethingsare。"

Forawhilethevesselanditscargoandthelandedmenandvariousbusinessandconversationsoccupiedthem。Butthefreightforthemissiononceseento，therewasnotmuchelsetodetainthem。

Thebarkentinewasonlyacoasterlikemanyotherswhichhadbeguntofilltheseaalittlemoreoflateyears，andpresentlyhostandguestwereridinghomeward。Sidebysidetheyrode，companionstotheeye，butwideapartinmood；withintheturbulentyoungfigureofGastondweltaspiritthatcouldnotbemoreatease，whilerevoltwassteadilykindlingbeneaththeschooledandplacidmaskofthePadre。

Yetstillthestrangenessofhissituationinsucharemote，resourcelessplacecamebackasamarvelintotheyoungman’slivelymind。Twentyyearsinprison，hethought，andhardlyawareofit！Andheglancedatthesilentpriest。Amansoevidentlyfondofmusic，oftheaters，oftheworld，towhompressedflowershadmeantsomethingonce——andnowcontentedtobleachuponthesewastes！Notevendesirousofabriefholiday，butfindinganoldorganandsomeoldoperasenoughrecreation！

"Itishisage，Isuppose，"thoughtGaston。Andthenthenotionofhimselfwhenheshouldbesixtyoccurredtohim，andhespoke。

"Doyouknow，Idonotbelieve，"saidhe，"thatIshouldeverreachsuchcontentmentasyours。"

"Perhapsyouwill，"saidPadreIgnacio，inalowvoice。

"Never！"declaredtheyouth。"Itcomesonlytothefew，Iamsure。"

"Yes。Onlytothefew，"murmuredthePadre。

"Iamcertainthatitmustbeagreatpossession，"Gastoncontinued；

"andyet——andyet——dearme！lifeisasplendidthing！"

"Thereareseveralwaystoliveit，"saidthePadre。

"Onlyoneforme！"criedGaston。"Action，men，women，things——tobethere，tobeknown，toplayapart，tositinthefrontseats；tohavepeopletelloneanother，’TheregoesGastonVillere！’andtodeserveone’sprominence。Why，ifIwasPadreofSantaYsabeldelMarfortwentyyears——

no！foroneyear——doyouknowwhatIshouldhavedone？Somedayitwouldhavebeentoomuchforme。Ishouldhaveleftthesesavagestoapastornearertheirownlevel，andIshouldhaveriddendownthiscanyonuponmymule，andsteppedonboardthebarkentine，andgonebacktomypropersphere。Youwillunderstand，sir，thatIamfarfromventuringtomakeanypersonalcomment。Iamonlythinkingwhataworldofdifferenceliesbetweennaturesthatcanfeelasalikeaswedouponsomanysubjects。Why，notsinceleavingNewOrleanshaveImetanyonewithwhomIcouldtalk，exceptoftheweatherandthebruteinterestscommontousall。Thatsuchaoneasyoushouldbehereislikeadream。"

"Butitisnotadream，"saidthePadre。

"And，sir——pardonmeifIdosaythis——areyounotwastedatSantaYsabeldelMar？Ihaveseenthepriestsattheothermissions。Theyare——

thesortofgoodmenthatIexpected。Butareyouneededtosavesuchsoulsasthese？"

"Thereisnoaristocracyofsouls，"saidthePadre，againwhispering。

"Butthebodyandthemind！"criedGaston。"MyGod，aretheynothing？Doyouthinkthattheyaregiventousfornothingbutatrap？Youcannotteachsuchadoctrinewithyourlibrarythere。Andhowaboutallthecultivatedmenandwomenawayfromwhosequickeningsocietythebrightestofusgrownumb？Youhaveheldout。Butwillitbeforlong？Areyounevertosaveanysoulsofyourownkind？Arenottwentyyearsofmescladosenough？No，no！"finishedyoungGaston，hotwithhisunforeseeneloquence；"Ishouldridedownsomemorningandtakethebarkentine。"

PadreIgnaciowassilentforaspace。

"Ihavenotoffendedyou？"askedtheyoungman。

"No。Anythingbutthat。YouaresurprisedthatIshould——choose——tostayhere。PerhapsyoumayhavewonderedhowIcametobehereatall？"

"Ihadnotintendedanyimpertinent——"

"Ohno。Putsuchanideaoutofyourhead，myson。YoumayrememberthatIwasgoingtomakeyouaconfessionaboutmyoperas。Letussitdowninthisshade。"

Sotheypicketedthemulesnearthestreamandsatdown。

IV

Youhaveseen，"beganPadreIgnacio，"whatsortofamanI——wasonce。

Indeed，itseemsverystrangetomyselfthatyoushouldhavebeenherenottwenty—fourhoursyet，andknowsomuchofme。Fortherehascomenooneelseatall"——thePadrepausedamomentandmasteredtheunsteadinessthathehadfeltapproachinginhisvoice——"therehasbeennooneelsetowhomIhavetalkedsofreely。InmyearlydaysIhadnothoughtofbeingapriest。Byparentsdestinedmeforadiplomaticcareer。Therewasplentyofmoneyand——andalltherestofit；forbyinheritancecametometheacquaintanceofmanypeoplewhosenamesyouwouldbelikelytohaveheardof。Cities，peopleoffashion，artists——thewholeofitwasmyelementandmychoice；andby—and—byImarried，notonlywhereitwasdesirable，butwhereIloved。ThenforthefirsttimeDeathlaidhisstaffuponmyenchantment，andIunderstoodmanythingsthathadbeenonlywordstomehitherto。Tohavebeenahusbandforayear，andafatherforamoment，andinthatmomenttoloseall——thisunblindedme。Lookingback，itseemedtomethatIhadneverdoneanythingexceptformyselfallmydays。Ilefttheworld。InduetimeIbecameapriestandlivedinmyowncountry。Butmyworldlyexperienceandmyseculareducationhadgiventomyopinionsaturntooliberalfortheplacewheremyworkwaslaid。Iwassoonadvisedconcerningthisbythoseinauthorityoverme。AndsincetheycouldnotchangemeandIcouldthem，yetwishedtoworkandtoteach，theNewWorldwassuggested，andI

volunteeredtogivetherestofmylifetomissions。Itwassoonfoundthatsomeonewasneededhere，andforthislittleplaceIsailed，andtothesehumblepeopleIhavededicatedmyservice。Theyarepastoralcreaturesofthesoil。Theirvineyardandcattledaysareapttobelikethesunandstormaroundthem——strongalikeintheirevilandintheirgood。Alltheiryearstheyliveaschildren——childrenwithmen’spassionsgiventothemlikedeadlyweapons，unabletomeasuretheharmtheirimpulsesmaybring。Hence，evenintheircrimes，theirheartswillgenerallyopensoontotheonegreatkeyoflove，whilecivilizationmakeslockswhichthatkeycannotalwaysfitatthefirstturn。Andcomingtoknowthis，"saidPadreIgnacio，fixinghiseyessteadilyuponGaston，"youwillunderstandhowgreataprivilegeitistohelpsuchpeople，andhowthesenseofsomethingaccomplished——underGod——shouldbringContentmentwithRenunciation。"

"Yes，"saidGastonVillere。Then，thinkingofhimself，"Icanunderstanditinamanlikeyou。"

"Donotspeakofmeatall！"exclaimedthePadre，almostpassionately。

"ButprayHeaventhatyoumayfindthethingyourselfsomeday——

ContentmentwithRenunciation——andneverletitgo。"

"Amen！"saidGaston，strangelymoved。

"Thatisthewholeofmystory，"thepriestcontinued，withnomoreoftherecentstressinhisvoice。"AndnowIhavetalkedtoyouaboutmyselfquiteenough。Butyoumusthavemyconfession。"Hehadnowresumedentirelyhishalf—playfultone。"Iwasjustalittlemistaken，yousee——

tooself—reliant，perhaps——whenIsupposed，inmyfirstmissionaryardor，thatIcouldgetonwithoutanyremembranceoftheworldatall。IfoundthatIcouldnot。AndsoIhavetaughttheoldoperastomychoir——suchpartsofthemasarewithinourcompassandsuitableforworship。AndcertainofmyfriendsstillaliveathomearegoodenoughtorememberthistasteofmineandtosendmeeachyearsomeofthenewmusicthatIshouldneverhearofotherwise。Thenwestudythesethingsalso。Andalthoughourorganisamiserableaffair，Felipemanagesverycleverlytomakeitdo。Andwhilethevoicesaresingingtheseoperas，especiallytheoldones，whatharmisthereifsometimesthepriestisthinkingofsomethingelse？Sothere’smyconfession！Andnow，whetherTrovatoreiscomeornot，IshallnotallowyoutoleaveusuntilyouhavetaughtallyouknowofittoFelipe。"

Thenewopera，however，haddulyarrived。AndasheturneditspagesPadreIgnaciowasquicktoseizeatonceuponthemusicthatcouldbetakenintohischurch。Someofitwasreadyfitted。BythatafternoonFelipeandhischoircouldhaverendered"Ah！sel’errort’ingombra"

withoutsliporfalter。

ThosewerestrangerehearsalsofIlTrovatoreuponthisCaliforniashore。

ForthePadrelookedtoGastontosaywhentheywenttoofastortooslow，andtocorrecttheiremphasis。Andsinceitwashot，thelittleErardpianowascarriedeachdayoutintothemissiongarden。There，inthecloistersamongthejessamine，theorangeblossoms，theoleanders，inthepresenceoftheroundyellowhillsandthebluetriangleofsea，theMisererewasslowlylearned。TheMexicansandIndiansgathered，swarthyandblack—haired，aroundthetinklinginstrumentthatFelipeplayed；andpresidingoverthemwereyoungGastonandthepalePadre，walkingupanddownthepaths，beatingtimeorsingingnowonepartandnowanother。AndsoitwasthatthewildcattleontheuplandswouldhearTrovatorehummedbyapassingvaquero，whilethesamemelodywasfillingthestreetsofthefar—offworld。

ForthreedaysGastonVillereremainedatSantaYsabeldelMar；andthoughnotawordofrestlessnesscamefromhim，hishostcouldreadSanFranciscoandthegold—minesinhiscountenance。No，theyoungmancouldnothavestayedherefortwentyyears！AndthePadreforboreurginghisguesttoextendhisvisit。

"Buttheworldissmall，"theguestdeclaredatparting。"Somedayitwillnotbeabletospareyouanylonger。Andthenwearesuretomeet。

Butyoushallhearfrommesoon，atanyrate。"

Again，asuponthefirstevening，thetwoexchangedafewcourtesies，moregracefulandparticularthanwe，whohavenottime，andfightnoduels，findworthaman’swhileatthepresentday。Forduelsaregone，whichisaverygoodthing，andwiththemacertaincarefulpoliteness，whichisapity；butthatisthewayintheeternalprofitandloss。SoyoungGastonrodenorthwardoutofthemission，backtotheworldandhisfortune；andthePadrestoodwatchingthedustaftertheriderhadpassedfromsight。Thenhewentintohisroomwithadrawnface。Butappearancesatleasthadbeenkeptuptotheend；theyouthwouldneverknowoftheelderman’sunrest。

V

TemptationhadarrivedwithGaston，butwasdestinedtomakealongerstayatSantaYsabeldelMar。Yetitwasperhapsaweekbeforethepriestknewthisguestwascometoabidewithhim。Theguestcouldbediscreet，couldwithdraw，wasnotatfirstimportunate。

Sailawayonthebarkentine？Awildnotion，tobesure！althoughfitenoughtoenterthebrainofsuchayoungscape—grace。ThePadreshookhisheadandsmiledaffectionatelywhenhethoughtofGastonVillere。Theyouth’shandsome，recklesscountenancewouldshineout，smiling，inhismemory，andherepeatedAuber’soldremark，"IsitthegoodLord，orisitmerelythedevil，thatalwaysmakesmehaveaweaknessforrascals？"

Sailawayonthebarkentine！Imaginetakingleaveofthepeoplehere——ofFelipe！Inwhatwordsshouldhetelltheboytogoonindustriouslywithhismusic？No，thiswasnotimaginable！Themerepartingalonewouldmakeitforeverimpossibletothinkofsuchathing。"Andthen，"hesaidtohimselfeachnewmorning，whenhelookedoutattheocean，"Ihavegiventothemmylife。Onedoesnottakebackagift。"

Picturesofhisdeparturebegantoshineandmeltinhisdriftingfancy。

HesawhimselfexplainingtoFelipethatnowhispresencewaswantedelsewhere；thatthanwouldcomeasuccessortotakecareofSantaYsabel—

—ayoungerman，moreuseful，andabletovisitsickpeopleatadistance。

"ForIamoldnow。Ishouldnotbelonghasinanycase。"Hestoppedandpressedhishandstogether；hehadcaughthisTemptationintheveryact。

NowhesatstaringathisTemptation’sface，closetohim，whiletheninthetriangletwoshipswentsailingby。

OnemorningFelipetoldhimthatthebarkentinewashereonitsreturnvoyagesouth。"Indeed。"saidthePadre，coldly。"Thethingsarereadytogo，Ithink。"Forthevesselcalledformailandcertainboxesthatthemissionsentaway。FelipelefttheroominwonderatthePadre’smanner。Butthepriestwaslaughingsecretlytoseehowlittleitwastohimwherethebarkentinewas，orwhetheritshouldbecomingorgoing。

Butintheafternoon，athispiano，hefoundhimselfsaying，"Othershipscallhere，atanyrate。"Andthenforthefirsttimeheprayedtobedeliveredfromhisthoughts。Yetpresentlyhelefthisseatandlookedoutofthewindowforasightofthebarkentine；butitwasgone。

Theseasonofthewine—makingpassed，andthepreservingofallthefruitsthatthemissionfieldsgrew。Lotionsandmedicineswasdistilledfromgardenherbs。Perfumewasmanufacturedfromthepetalsofflowersandcertainspices，andpresentsofitdespatchedtoSanFernandoandVentura，andtofriendsatotherplaces；forthePadrehadaspecialrecepit。Asthetimeranon，twoorthreevisitorspassedanightwithhim；andpresentlytherewasawordatvariousmissionsthatPadreIgnaciohadbeguntoshowhisyears。AtSantaYsabeldelMartheywhispered，"ThePadreisnotwell。"Yetherodeagreatdealoverthehillsbyhimself，anddownthecanyonveryoften，stoppingwherehehadsatwithGaston，tositaloneandlookupanddown，nowatthehillsabove，andnowattheoceanbelow。Amonghisparishionershehadcertaintroublestosoothe，certainwoundstoheal；ahomefromwhichhewasabletodrivejealousy；agirlwhomhebadeherloversetright。Butallsaid，"ThePadreisunwell。"AndFelipetoldthemthatthemusicseemednothingtohimanymore；heneveraskedforhisDixitDominusnowadays。

Thenforashorttimehewasreallyinbed，feverishwiththetwovoicesthatspoketohimwithoutceasing。"Youhavegivenyourlife，"saidonevoice。"And，therefore，"saidtheother，"haveearnedtherighttogohomeanddie。""YouarewinningbetterrewardsintheserviceofGod，"

saidthefirstvoice。"Godcanbebetterservedinotherplaces，"

answeredthesecond。AshelaylisteninghesawSevilleagain，andthetreesofAranhal，wherehehadbeenborn。Thewindwasblowingthroughthem，andintheirbrancheshecouldhearthenightingales。"Empty！

Empty！"hesaid，aloud。AndhelayfortwodaysandnightshearingthewindandthenightingalesinthefartreesofAranhal。ButFelipe，watching，onlyheardthePadrecryingthroughthehours，"Empty！Empty！"

Thenthewindinthetreesdieddown，andthePadrecouldgetoutofbed，andsoonbeinthegarden。Butthevoiceswithinhimstilltalkedallthewhileashesatwatchingthesailswhentheypassedbetweentheheadlands。Theirwords，fallingforeverthesameway，beathisspiritsore，likeblowsuponfleshalreadybruised。Ifhecouldonlychangewhattheysaid，hewouldrest。

"HasthePadreanymallforSantaBarbara？"askedFelipe。"Theshipboundsouthwardshouldbehereto—morrow。"

"Iwillattendtoit，"saidthepriest，notmoving。AndFelipestoleaway。

AtFelipe’swordsthevoiceshadstopped，asaclockfinishesstriking。

Silence，strainedlikeexpectation，filledthePadre’ssoul。Butinplaceofthevoicescameoldsightsofhomeagain，thewavingtreesatAranhal；

thenitwouldbeRachelforamoment，declaimingtragedywhileahousefuloffacesthatheknewbynamewatchedher；andthroughallthepanoramarangthepleasantlaughofGaston。ForawhileintheeveningthePadresatathisErardplayingTrovatore。Later，inhissleeplessbedhelay，sayingnowandthen:"Todieathome！SurelyImaybegrantedatleastthis。"Andhelistenedfortheinnervoices。Buttheywerenotspeakinganymore，andtheblackholeofsilencegrewmoredreadfultohimthantheirarguments。Thenthedawncameinathiswindow，andhelaywatchingitsgraygrowwarmintocolor，untilsuddenlyhesprangfromhisbedandlookedatthesea。Blueitlay，sapphire—huedanddancingwithpointsofgold，lovelyandluringasacharm；andoveritstrianglethesouth—boundshipwasapproaching。PeoplewereonboardwhoinafewweekswouldbesailingtheAtlantic，whilehewouldstandherelookingoutofthissamewindow。"MercifulGod！"hecried，sinkingonhisknees。"HeavenlyFather，Thouseestthisevilinmyheart！Thouknowestthatmyweakhandcannotpluckitout！Mystrengthisbreaking，andstillThoumakestmyburdenheavierthanIcanbear。"Hestopped，breathlessandtrembling。

Thesamevisionswasflittingacrosshisclosedeyes；thesamesilencegapedlikeadrycraterinhissoul。"Thereisnohelpinearthorheaven，"hesaid，veryquietly；andhedressedhimself。

VIItwasstillsoearlythatfewoftheIndianswerestirring，andoneofthesesaddledthePadre’smule。Felipewasnotyetawake，andforamomentitcameinthepriest’smindtoopentheboy’sdoorsoftly，lookathimoncemore，andcomeaway。Butthishedidnot，noreventakeafarewellglanceatthechurchandorgan。Hebadenothingfarewell，but，turninghisbackuponhisroomandhisgarden，rodedownthecanyon。

Thevessellayatanchor，andsomeonehadlandedfromhaandwastalkingwithothermenontheshore。Seeingthepriestslowlycoming，thisstrangerapproachedtomeethim。

"Youareconnectedwiththemissionhere？"heinquired。

"I——am。"

"PerhapsitiswithyouthatGastonVillerestopped？"

"TheyoungmanfromNewOrleans？Yes。IamPadreIgnacio。"

"Thenyou’llsavemeajourney。Ipromisedhimtodelivertheseintoyourownhands。"

Thestrangergavethemtohim。

"Abagofgold—dust，"heexplained，"andaletter。Iwroteitathisdictationwhilehewasdying。Helivedhardlyanhourafterward。"

Thestrangerbowedhisheadatthestrickencrywhichhisnewselicitedfromthepriest，who，afterafewmoments’vainefforttospeak，openedtheletterandread:

MydearFriend，——Itisthroughnoman’sfaultbutminethatIhavecometothis。Ihavehadplentyofluck，andlatelyhavebeencountingthedaysuntilIshouldreturnhome。ButlastnightheavynewsfromNewOrleansreachedme，andItorethepressedflowertopieces。UnderthefirstsmartandhumiliationofbrokenfaithIwasrendereddesperate，andpickedaneedlessquarrel。ThankGod，itisIwhohavethepunishment。Bydearfriend，asIliehere，leavingaworldthatnomaneverlovedmore，Ihavecometounderstandyou。Foryouandyourmissionhavebeenmuchinmythoughts。Itisstrangehowgoodcanbedone，notatthetimewhenitisintended，butafterward；andyouhavedonethisgoodtome。Isayoveryourwords，"ContentmentwithRenunciation，"andbelievethatatthislasthourIhavegainedsomethinglikewhatyouwouldwishmetofeel。

ForIdonotthinkthatIdesireitotherwisenow。Mylifewouldneverhavebeenofservice，Iamafraid。Youamthelastpersoninthisworldwhohasspokenseriouswordstome，andIwantyoutoknowthatnowatlengthIvaluethepeaceofSantaYsabelasIcouldneverhavedonebutforseeingyourwisdomandgoodness。Youspokeofaneworganforyourchurch。Takethegold—dustthatwillreachyouwiththis，anddowhatyouwillwithit。Letmeatleastindyinghavehelpedsomeone。Andsincethemisnoaristocracyinsouls——yousaidthattome；doyouremember？——

perhapsyouwillsayamassforthisdepartingsoulofmine。Ionlywish，mustmybodymustgoundergroundinastrangecountry，thatitmighthavebeenatSantaYsabeldidMar，whereyourfeetwouldoftenpass。

"’AtSantaYsabeldelMar，whereyourfeetwouldoftenpass。’"Thepriestrepeatedthisfinalsentencealoud，withoutbeingawareofit。

"Thosearethelastwordsheeverspoke，"saidthestranger，"exceptbiddingmegood—by。"

"Youknewhimwell，then？"

"No；notuntilafterhewashurt。I’mthemanhequarreledwith。"

Thepriestlookedattheshipthatwouldsailonwardthisafternoon。

Thenasmileofgreatbeautypassedoverhisface，andheaddressedthestrange。"Ithankyou。Youwillneverknowwhatyouhavedoneforme。"

"Itisnothing，"answeredthestranger，awkwardly。"Hetoldmeyousetgreatstoreonaneworgan。"

PadreIgnacioturnedawayfromtheshipandrodebackthroughthegorge。

WhenhehadreachedtheshadyplacewhereoncehehadsatwithGastonVillere，hedismountedandagainsatthere，alonebythestream，formanyhours。Longridesandoutingshadbeenlatelysomuchhiscustomthatnoonethoughttwiceofhisabsence；andwhenheresumedtothemissionintheafternoon，theIndiantookhismule，andhewenttohisseatinthegarden。Butitwaswithanotherlookthathewatchedthesea；andpresentlythesailmovedacrossthebluetriangle，andsoonithadroundedtheheadland。

WithitdepartedTemptationforever。

Gaston’sfirstcomingwasinthePadre’smind；and，asthevespersbellbegantoringinthecloisteredsilence，afragmentofAuber’splaintivetunepassedlikeasighacrosshismemory。

[Musicalscoreappearshere]

ForthereposeofGaston’syoung，world—lovingspirit，theysangallthathehadtaughtthemofIlTrovatore。

Afterthisday，FelipeandallthosewhoknewandlovedthePadrebest，sawserenityhadreturnedtohisfeatures；butforsomereasontheybegantowatchthosefeatureswithmorecare。

"Still，"theysaid，"heisnotold。"Andasthemonthswentbytheywouldrepeat:"Weshallhavehimyetformanyyears。"

Thustheseasonrolledround，bringingthetimefortheexpectedmessagesfromtheworld。PadreIgnaciowaswonttositinhisgarden，waitingfortheship，asofold。

"Asofold，"theysaid，cheerfully，whosawhim。ButRenunciationwithContentmenttheycouldnotsee；itwasdeepdowninhissilentandthankedheart。

OnedayFelipewenttocallhimfromhisgardenseat，wonderingwhytheringingofthebellhadnotbroughthimtovespers。Breviaryinlap，andhandsfoldeduponit，thePadresatamonghisflowers，lookingatthesea。Outthereamidthesapphire—blue，tranquilandwhite，gleamedthesailsofthebarkentine。Ithadbroughthimanewmessage，notfromthisworld；andPadreIgnaciowasslowlyborneinfromthegarden，whilethemission—belltolledforthepassingofahumansoul。