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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 mescladosthe
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 winethe 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 musicBut 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 momentonly
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 printthis 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？〃