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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
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PADRE IGNACIO Or The Song of Temptation
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； andand 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
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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 herea little；
little placewith 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 onesand 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
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PADRE IGNACIO Or The Song of Temptation
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 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
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