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。