 A Convert of the Mission In Selected Stories by Brett Hart This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org A Convert of the Mission The largest tent of the Tasahara Camp Meeting was crowded to its utmost extent. The excitement of that dense mass was at its highest pitch. Reverend Stephen Masterton, the single erect, passionate figure of that confused medley of kneeling worshippers, had reached the culminating pitch of his irresistible, exhortatory power. Size and groans were beginning to respond to his appeals when the reverent brother was seen to lurch heavily forward and fall to the ground. At first the effect was that of a part of his performance. The groans redoubled and twenty or thirty brethren themselves prostrate in humble imitation of the preacher. But Sister Deborah Stokes, perhaps through some special revelation of feminine intuition, grasped the fallen man, tore loose his black silk necktie, and dragged him free of the struggling frantic crowd whose paroxysms he had just evoked, albeit he was pale and unconscious and unable to continue the service. Even the next day when he had slightly recovered, it was found that any attempt to renew his fervid exhortations produced the same disastrous result. A council was hurdly held by the elders. In spite of the energetic protests of Sister Stokes, it was held that the Lord was wrestling with his spirit, and he was subjected to the same extraordinary treatment from the whole congregation that he himself had applied to them. Propped up, pale and trembling in the mourners bench by two brethren, he was striven with, exhorted, prayed over, and admonished until insensibility mercifully succeeded convulsions. Spiritual therapeutics having failed, he was turned over to the weak and carnal nursing of women folk. But after a month of incapacity he was obliged to yield to the flesh, and in the local dialect to use a doctor. It's so chanced that the medical practitioner of the district was a man of large experience, of military training and plain speech. When, therefore, he one day found in his surgery a man of rude western type, strong-limbed and sunburned, but trembling, hesitating, and neurotic in movement, after listening to his symptoms gravely, he asked abruptly, and how much are you drinking now? I am a life-long abstainer, stammered his patient in quivering indignation, but this was followed by another question so frankly appalling to the here that he staggered to his feet. I'm Stephen Masterton, known of man as a circuit preacher of the northern California district, he thundered, and an enemy of the flesh in all its forms. I beg your pardon, responded Dr. Duchess, Nate Grimly, but as you are suffering from excessive and repeated excitation of the nervous system and the depression following prolonged artificial exaltation it makes little difference whether the cause be spiritual as long as there is a certain physical effect upon your body which I believe you have brought to me to cure. Now as to diet you look all wrong there. My food is of the simplest. I have no hankering for flesh-pots, responded the patient. I suppose you call salaritas bread and salt-pork and flapjacks simple, said the Dr. Cooley. They are common enough, and if you are working with your muscles instead of your nerves in that frame of yours they might not hurt you, but you are suffering as much from eating more than you can digest as the various gourmand. You must stop all that. Go down to a quiet watering place for two months. I go to a watering place, interrupted Masterton, to the haunt of the idle, the frivolous, and wanton, never. Well I am not particular about a watering place, said the doctor with a shrug, although a little idleness and frivolity with different food wouldn't hurt you. But you must go somewhere and change your habits and mode of life completely. I will find you some sleepy old Spanish town in the southern country where you can rest and diet. If this is distasteful to you, he continued grimly, you can always call it a trial. Stephen Masterton may have thought so when, a week later, he found himself issuing from a rocky gorge into a rough, badly paved gilly street which seemed to be only a continuation of the mountain road itself. It broadened suddenly into a square or a plaza flanked on each side by an irregular row of yellowing adobe houses with the inevitable veranda tienda in each corner and the solitary, galleried fonda with a half-morsch archway leading into an inner patio or courtyard in the center. The whole street stopped as usual at the very door of the Mission Church, a few hundred miles farther on, and under the shadow of the two belfry towers at each angle of the façade as if this were the ultima thuli of every traveller. But all that the eye rested on was ruined, worn, and crumbling. The adobe houses were cracked by the incessant sunshine of the half-year-long summer or the more intermittent earthquake shock. The paved courtyard of the fonda was so uneven and sunken in the center that the lumbering wagon and faded on an incline, and the mules with difficulty kept their footing while being unladen. The whitened plaster had fallen from the feet of the two pillars that flanked the Mission doorway like bandages from a gouty limb leaving the reddish core of adobe visible. There were apparently as many broken tiles in the streets and alleys as there were on the heavy red roofs that everywhere asserted themselves, and even seemed to slide down the crumbling ground. There were hopeless gaps in grill and grating of doorways and windows, where the iron bars had dropped helplessly out or were bent at different angles. The walls of the peaceful Mission garden and the war-like Presidio were like lost in the escalating vines or leveled by the pushing boughs of gnarled pear and olive trees that now surmounted them. The dust lay thick and impalpable in hollow-end gutter, and rose in little vapory clouds with a soft impression at every stroke of his horse's hoofs. Overall this dust and ruin, idleness seemed to reign supreme. From the velvet-jacketed figures lounging motionless in the shadows of the open doorways so motionless that only the lazy drift of cigarette smoke betoken their breathing to the reclining peons in the shade of the Katalpa, or the squatting Indians in the Arroyo, all was sloth and dirt. The Reverend Stephen Masterton felt with his old exhortative indignation. A gaudy yellow fan waved languidly in front of a black rose-crested head at a white curtain window. He knew he was stifling with righteous wrath and clapped his spurs to his horse. Nevertheless, in a few days, by the aid of a letter to the innkeeper, he was installed in a dilapidated adobe house, not unlike those he had seen, but situated in the outskirts and overlooking the garden and part of the kitchen. It had even a small garden of its own, if a strip of hot wall overburdened with yellow and white roses, a dozen straggling calias, a bank of heliotrope, and an almond tree could be called a garden. It had an open doorway, but so heavily recessed in the thick walls that it preserved seclusion. A sitting room and an alcoved bedroom with deep, embrasured windows that, however, excluded the unwinking sunlight and kept in monotone of shade. Strange to say, he found it cool, restful, and, in spite of the dust, absolutely clean, and but for the scent of heliotrope, entirely inodorous. The dry air seemed to dissipate all noxious emanations and decay. The very dust itself, in its fine impalpability, was volatile with a spice-like pecancy and left no stain. A wrinkled Indian woman, brown and veined like a tobacco leaf, ministered to his simple once. But these ones had also been regulated by Dr. Duchessny. He found himself with some grave doubts of his effeminacy, breakfasting on a single cup of chocolate instead of his usual bowl of molasses-sweetened coffee, crumbling a crisp tortilla instead of the heavy salaritas bread, greasy flapjack, or the large fried steak, and more wonderful still completing his repast with purple grapes from France. He did not deny that it was simple, that it was even refreshing and consistent with the climate and his surroundings. On the other hand, it was the frugal diet of the commonest peasant, and were not those peon slothful idolaters. At the end of the week, his correspondence being also restricted by his doctor to a few lines to himself regarding his progress, he wrote to that advisor, my carnal appetite seems to be amply mollified and soothed by these violins, whatever may be their ultimate effect upon the weakness of our common sinful nature, but I should not be truthful to you if I did not warn you that I am viewing with the deepest spiritual concern a decided tendency towards sloth, and a folding of the hands over matters that often I fear are spiritual as well as temporal. I would ask you to consider, wise to rouse my apathetic flesh, so as to strive even with the feeblest exhortations against this sloth and others, if only to keep oneself from falling into the pit of easy indulgence. What answer he received is not known, but it is to be presumed that he kept loyal faith with his physician, and gave himself up to simple walks and rides and occasional meditation. His solitude was not broken in upon. Curiosity was too active a vice and induced too much exertion for his indolent neighbors, and the Americano's basking seclusion, though unlike the habits of his countrymen, did not affect them. The shopkeeper and innkeeper saluted him always with a profound courtesy which awakened his slight resentment partly because he was conscious that it was grateful to him, and partly that he felt he ought to have provoked in them a less satisfied condition. Once when he had unwittingly passed the exam, through a gap in the mission orchard, a lism black-coated shadow slipped past him with an obeisance so profound and gentle that he was startled at first into an awkward imitation of it himself, and then into an angry self-examination. He knew that he loathed that long-skirted woman-like garment, that dangling ostentatious symbol, that air of secrecy and mystery, and he inflated his chest above his loosely tied cravat and unbuttoned coat with a contrasted sense of freedom. But he was conscious the next day of weekly avoiding a recurrence of this meeting, and in his self-examination put it down to his self-disciplined observance of his doctor's orders. But when he was strong again and fitted for his master's work, how strenuously he should improve the occasion this gave him of attacking the scarlet woman among her slaves and worshipers. His afternoon meditations and the his only book, The Bible, were regularly broken in upon at about sunset by two or three strokes from the cracked bell that hung in the open bell-free which reared itself beyond the gnarled pear trees. He could not say that it was aggressive or persistent, like his own church bells, nor that it even expressed to him any religious sentiment. Moreover, it was not a Sabbath bell, but a daily one, and even then seemed to be only a signal to ears more responsive, rather than a stern reminder. And the hour was always a singularly witching one. It was when the sun had slipped from the glaring red roofs and the yellowing adobe of the mission walls and the tall ranks of wild oats on the hillside were all of the one color of old gold. It was when the quivering heat of the arroyo and dusty expanse of plaza was blending with the soft breath of the sea fog that crept through the clefts of the slushing balm seemed to fall like a benediction on all nature. It was when the trade wind swept and irritated surfaces of the rocky gorge beyond were soothed with clinging vapors, when the pines above no longer rocked monotonously, and the great undulating sea of the wild oat plains had gone down and was at rest. It was at this hour one afternoon that with the released scents of the garden there came to him a perfume that was new to his senses. He laid aside his book, went into the garden, and half unconscious of his trespass, passed through the mission orchard and thence into the little churchyard beside the church. Looking at the strange inscriptions in an unfamiliar tongue, he was singularly touched with the few cheap memorials lying upon the graves, like childish toys, and for the moment overlooked the papistic emblems that accompanied them. The death, the common leveler, had made even the symbols of a faith eternal inferior to those simple records of undying memory and affection, and he was for a moment startled into doubt. He walked to the door of the church. To his surprise it was open. Standing upon the threshold he glanced inside and stood for a moment utterly bewildered. In a man of refined taste and education, that bizarre and highly colored interior would have only provoked a smile to Stephen Masterton's highly emotional nature, but artistic inexperience, strangely enough it was profoundly impressive. The heavily timbered, roughly hewn-ruff, barred with alternate bands of blue and indian red, the crimson hangings, the gold and black draperies affected this religious-backed Wiseman exactly as they were designed to affect the heathen and acolytes for whose conversion the temple had been reared. He could scarcely take his eyes from the tinsel-crowned mother of heaven resplendent in white and gold and glittering with jewels. The radiant shield before the host, illuminated by tall spectral candles in the mysterious obscurity of the altar, dazzled him like the raid-disk of the setting sun. A gentle murmur, as of the distant sea, came from the altar. In his naïve bewilderment he had not seen the few kneeling figures in the shadow of Colum and Isle. It was not until a man whom he recognized as a mulleteer he had seen that afternoon, gambling and drinking in the fonda, slipped by him like a shadow and sank upon his knees in the center of the isle that he realized the overpowering truth. He, Stephen Masterton, was looking upon some rite of popish idolatry. He was turning quickly away when the keeper of the tienda, a man of sloth and sin, gently approached him from the shadow of a Colum with a mute gesture which he took to be one of invitation. A fierce protest of scorn and indignation swelled to his throat but died upon his lips. Yet he had strength enough to erect his gaunt emaciated figure, throwing out his long arms and extended palms in the attitude of defiant exorcism, and then rushed swiftly from the church. As he did so, he thought he saw a faint smile across the shopkeeper's face and a whispered exchange of words with a neighboring worshiper of more exalted appearance came to his ears, but it was not intelligible to his comprehension. The next day he wrote to his doctor in that quaint grand deliquence of written speech with which the half-educated man balances the slips of his colloquial phrasing. Do not let the purgation of my flesh be unduly protracted. What with the sloth and idolatries of Baal and Ashtaroth, which I see daily around me, I feel that without a protest, not only the flesh, but the spirit is mortified. But my bodily strength is mercifully returning, and I found myself yesterday able to take a long ride at that hour which they here keep sacred for an idolatrous right under the beautiful name of the Angelus. Thus do they bear false witness to him. Can you tell me the meaning of the Spanish word Don Quixoteur? I am ignorant of these sensuous southern languages, and am aware that this is not the correct spelling, but I have striven to give the phonetic equivalent. It was used, I am inclined to think, in reference to myself by an idolater. You need not trouble yourself. I have just ascertained that the words in question were simply the title of an idol novel, and of course could not possibly refer to me. How be it, it was as Don Quixoteur, that is the common Spaniard's conception of the Night of La Mancha, merely the simple phonetic and madman that Mr. Stephen Masterton ever after rode all unconsciously through the streets of the mission, amid the half-pitying, half-smiling glances of the people. In spite of his meditations, his single volume and his habit of retiring early, he found his evenings were growing lonely and tedious. He missed the prayer meeting and, above all, the hymns. He had a fine baritone voice, sympathetic as may be imagined, but not cultivated. One night in the seclusion of his garden, and secure in his distance from other dwellings, he raised his voice in a familiar camp meeting hymn with a strong brother's ring in the chorus. Growing bolder as he went on, he at last filled the quiet night with the strenuous sweep of his chant. Surprised at his own fervor, he paused for a moment, listening half-frightened, half-ashamed of his outbreak, but there was only the trilling of the night wind in the leaves, or the far-off yelp of a coyote. For a moment he thought he heard the metallic twang of a stringed instrument in the mission garden beyond his own, and his contiguity to the church with a stir of defiance. But he was relieved, nevertheless. His pent-up emotion had found vent, and without the nervous excitement that had followed his old exaltation. That night he slept better. He had found the Lord again, with solmody. The next evening he chanced upon a softer hymn of the same simplicity, but with a vein of human tenderness in its aspirations, which his more hopeful mood gently rendered. In the first verse he was, however, distinctly conscious of being followed by the same twanging sound he had heard on the previous night, and which even his untutored ear could recognize as an attempt to accompany him. But before he had finished the second verse, the unknown player after an ingenious but ineffectual assay to grasp the right chord abandoned it with an impatient and almost petish flourish, and allowed bang upon the sounding-board of the unseen instrument. He had finished it alone. With his curiosity excited, however, he tried to discover the locality of the hidden player. The sound evidently came from the mission garden, but in his ignorance of the language he could not even interrogate his Indian housekeeper. On the third night, however, his hymn was uninterrupted by any sound from the former musician. A sense of disappointment he knew not why came over him. The kindly overture of the unseen had been a relief to his loneliness, yet he had barely concluded the hymn when the familiar sound again struck his ears. But this time the musician played boldly, confidently, and with a singular skill on the instrument. The brilliant prelude over, to his entire surprise and some confusion, a soprano voice, high, childish, but infinitely quaint and fascinating, was mischievously uplifted. But alas, even to his ears ignorant of the language, it was very clearly a song of levity and wantonness, of freedom and license, of coquetry and incitement. Yet such was its fascination that he fancied it was reclaimed by the delightful childlike and innocent expression of the singer. Enough that this tall, gaunt, broad-shouldered man arose and overcome by a curiosity almost as childlike slipped into the garden and glided with an Indian softness of tread toward the voice. The moon shone full upon the ruined mission wall tipped with clusters of dark foliage, half hiding, half mingling with one of them, an indistinct bulk of light-colored huddled fleeces like an extravagant bird's nest hung the unknown musician. So intent was the performer's preoccupation that Masterton actually reached the base of the wall immediately below the figure without attracting its attention. But his foot slipped on the crumbling debris with a snapping of dry twigs. There was a quick little cry from above. He had barely time to recover his position before the singer, impulsively leaning over the parapet, had lost hers and fell outward. But Masterton was tall, alert, and self-possessed, and threw out his long arms. The next moment they were full of soft flounces, a struggling figure was against his breast, and a woman's frightened little hands around his neck. But he had broken and almost instantly, yet with infinite gentleness, he released her unharmed with hardly her crisp flounces crumpled in an upright position against the wall. Even her guitar, still hanging from her shoulder by a yellow ribbon, had bounded elastic and resounding against the wall, but lay intact at her satin-slippered feet. She caught it up with another quick little cry, but this time more of sauciness than fear, and drew her little hand across its strings defiantly. I hope you are not hurt, said the circuit preacher gravely. She broke into a laugh so silvery that he thought it no extravagance to liken it to the moon-beams that played over her made audible. She was lithe, yet plump, barred with black and yellow and small-waisted like a pretty wasp. Her complexion in that light was a sheen of pearl satin that made her eyes blacker and her little mouth redder than any other color could. She was small, but remembering the 14-year-old wife of the shopkeeper, he felt that for all her childish voice and features she was a grown woman, and a sudden shyness took hold of him. But she looked pertly in his face, stood her guitar upright before her, and put her hands behind her back as she leaned saucily against the wall and shrugged her shoulders. It was the fault of you, she said in a broken English seemed as much infantine as foreign. What for you not remain to yourself in your own cassa? So eat calm, you creep so in the dark and shake my wall, and I fall. And she, pointing to the guitar, is almost broke. And for all these I have only made to you a serenade ingrate. I beg your pardon, said Masterton quickly, but I was curious. I thought I'd help you and make yourself another cat on the wall? Eh? No, wall is enough, thank you. A frown lowered on Masterton's brow. You don't understand me, he said bluntly. I did not know who was here. Ah, bueno, then eatis Pepita Ramirez, you see, she said tapping her bodice with one little finger. All the same, the niece from Manuel Garcia keeps the mission garden and leaf there. And you? My name is Masterton. How much? Masterton, he repeated. She tried to pronounce it once or twice desperately, and then shook her little head so violently that a yellow rose fastened over her ear fell to the ground. But she did not heed it, nor the fact that Masterton had picked it up. Ah, I cannot, she said poutingly. It is as difficult to make go as my guitar with your serenade. Can you not say Stephen Masterton? He asked more gently with a returning and forgiving sense of her childishness. Estefan? Ah, Esteban. Yes, Don Esteban. Bueno, then Don Esteban. What for you think so melancholy one night, and one night so fierce? The melancholy, he is not so bad, but the fierce, ah, he is wicked. Is it how the Americano make always his serenade? Masterton's brow again darkened, and his hymn of exultation had been mistaken by these people by this, this wanton child. It was no serenade, he replied curtly. It was in the praise of the lord. Of how much? Of the lord of hosts, of the almighty in heaven. He lifted his long arms reverently on high. Oh, she said, with a frightened look, slightly edging away from the wall. At a secure distance, she stopped. Then you are a soldier, Don Esteban? No. Then what for you think I am a soldier of the lord, and you will make die in his army? Oh yes, you have said. She gathered up her guitar tightly under her arm, shook her small finger at him gravely, and said, You are a humbug, Don Esteban. Good a knight. And began to glide away. One moment, Miss, Miss Ramirez, called masterton. I, that is you, you have forgotten your rose. He added feebly, holding up the flower. She halted. Ah yes, he have dropped. You have picked him up. He is yours. I have dropped. You have picked me up. But I am not yours. Good a knight, commandante, Don Esteban. With a light laugh, she ran along beside the wall for a little distance, suddenly leaped up and disappeared in one of the largest gaps in its ruined and helpless structure. Steven masterton gazed after her stupidly, still holding the rose in his hand. Then he threw it away and re-entered his home. Lighting his candle, he undressed himself, prayed fervently, so fervently that all remembrance of the idle, foolish incident was wiped from his mind and went to bed. The night went well and dreamlessly. The next morning, when his thoughts recurred to the previous night, this seemed to him a token that he had not deviated from his spiritual integrity. It did not occur to him that the thought itself was a tacit suspicion. So his feet quite easily sought the garden again in the early sunshine, even to the wall where she had stood. But he had not taken into account the vivifying freshness of the morning, the renewed promise of life and resurrection of the night, and as he stood there he seemed to see the figure of the young girl again leaning against the wall in all the charm of her irrepressible and innocent youth. More than that, he found the whole scene re-enacting itself before him, the nebulous drapery half hidden in the foliage, the cry and the fall, the momentary soft contact of the girl's figure against his own, the clinging arms around his neck, the brush and fragrance of her flounces. All this came back to him with a strength he had not felt when it occurred. He was turning hurriedly away when his eyes fell upon the yellow rose still lying in the debris where he had thrown it, but still pure, fresh and unfaded. He picked it up again with a singular fancy that it was the girl herself and carried it into the house. As he placed it half shyly in a glass on his table a wonderful thought occurred to him. Was not the episode of last night a special providence? Was not that young girl, wayward and childlike, a mere neophyte in her idolatrous religion, as yet unsteeped in sloth and ignorance presented to him as a brand to be snatched from the burning? Was not this the opportunity of conversion he had longed for? This the chance of exercising his gifts of exhortation that he had been hiding in the napkin of solitude and seclusion? Nay, was not all this predestined? His illness, his consequent trial to this land of false gods? This contiguity to the mission? Was not all this part of a supremely ordered plan for the girl's salvation? And was he not elected and ordained for that service? Nay, more, was not the girl herself a mere unconscious instrument in the hands of a higher power? Was not her voluntary attempt to accompany him in his devotional exercise a vague stirring of that predestined force within her? Was not even that wantonness and frivolity contrasted with her childishness which he had at first misunderstood the stirrings of the flesh and the spirit and was he to abandon her in that struggle of good and evil? He lifted his bowed head that had been resting on his arm before the little flower on the table as if it were a shrine with a flash of resolve in his blue eyes. The wrinkled conception coming to her duties in the morning scarcely recognized her gloomily abstracted in this transfigured man. He looked ten years younger. She met his greeting and the few direct inquiries that his new resolve enabled him to make more freely with some information which a later talk with the shopkeeper who had a fuller English vocabulary confirmed in detail. Yes, truly this was a niece of the Mission Gardner who lived with her uncle in the ruined wing of the Presidio. She had taken her first communion four years ago. Ah, yes, she was a great musician and could play on the organ and the guitar. Ah, yes, of a certainty. She was gay and flirted with the caballeros, young and old, but she cared not for any. Whatever satisfaction this latter statement gave Masterton he believed it was because the absence of any disturbing worldly affection would make her an easier convert. But how continue this chance acquaintance and effect her conversion? For the first time Masterton realized the value of expediency. While his whole nature impelled him to see her society frankly and publicly and exhort her openly he knew that this was impossible. Still more he remembered her unmistakable fright at his first expression of faith. He must be wise as the serpent and harmless as the dove. He must work upon her soul alone and secretly. He who would have shrunk from any clandestine association with a girl from mere human affection saw no wrong in a covert intimacy for the purpose of religious salvation. Ignorant as he was of the ways of the world and inexperienced in the usages of society he began to plan methods of secretly meeting her with all the intrigue of a gallant. The perspicacity as well as the intuition of a true lover had descended upon him in this effort of mere spiritual conquest. Armed with his information and a few Spanish words he took a little conception aside and gravely suborned her to carry a note to be delivered secretly to Miss Ramirez. To his great relief and some surprise the old woman grinned with intelligence and her withered hand closed with a certain familiar dexterity over the epistle and the accompanying gratuity. To a man less naively one I did it might have awakened some suspicion but to the more sanguine hopefulness of Masterton it only suggested the fancy that conception itself might prove to be open to conversion and that he should in due season attempt her salvation also. But that would be later for conception was always with him and accessible the girl was not. The note which had cost him some labor of composition simple and almost business like as was the result ran as follows I wish to see you upon some matter of grave concern to yourself will you oblige me by coming again to the wall of the mission tonight at early candlelight it would avert worldly suspicion if you brought also your guitar. The afternoon dragged slowly on conception returned she had with great difficulty managed to see the seniorita but not alone she had however slipped the note into her hand not daring to wait for an answer. In his first hopefulness Masterton did not doubt what the answer would be but as evening approached he grew concerned as to the girls opportunities of coming and regretted that he had not given her a choice of time. Before his evening meal was finished he began to fear for her willingness and doubt the potency of his note. He was accustomed to exhort orally perhaps he ought to have waited for the chance of speaking to her directly without writing. When the moon rose he was already in the garden lingering at first in the shadow of an olive tree he waited until the moon beams fell on the wall and its crests of foliage but nothing moved among that ebony tracery. His ear was strained for the familiar tinkle of the guitar all was silent. As the moon rose higher he at last boldly walked to the wall and listened for any movement on the other side of it but nothing stirred she was evidently not coming his note had failed he was turning away sadly but as he faced his home again he heard a light laugh beside him he stopped a black shadow stepped out from beneath his own almond tree he started when with a gesture that seemed familiar to him the upper part of the shadow seemed to fall away with a long black mantilla and the face of the young girl was revealed he could see now that she was clad in black lace from head to foot she looked taller older and he fancied even prettier than before a sudden doubt of his ability to impress her a swift realization of all the difficulties of the attempt and for the first time perhaps a dim perception of the incongruity of the situation came over him I was looking for you on the wall he stammered she retorted with a laugh and her old audacity you would that I shall always hang there and drop upon you like a pear when you shake the tree you haven't brought your guitar he continued still more awkwardly as he noticed that she held only a long black fan in her hand for why you would that I play it and when my uncle say where go pepita she is lost someone shall say oh I have here her tink a tink in the garden of the americano who leave alone and then it is finished masterton began to feel exceedingly uncomfortable there was something in this situation that he had not dreamed of but with the persistency of an awkward man he went on but you played on the wall the other night and tried to accompany me but that was last night and on the wall I had not speak to you you had not speak to me you had not send me the little note by your peon she stopped and suddenly opening her fan before her face so that only her mischievous eyes were visible added you had not asked me then to come to hear you make love to me don esteban that is the difference the circuit preacher felt the blood rush to his face anger shame mortification remorse and fear alternately strove with him but above all and through all he was conscious of a sharp exquisite pleasure that frightened him still more yet he managed to exclaim no no you cannot think me capable of such a cowardly trick the girl started more at the unmistakable sincerity of his utterance than at the words whose full meaning she may have only imperfectly caught a trick a trick she slowly and wonderingly repeated then suddenly as if comprehended him she turned her round black eyes full upon him and dropped her fan from her face and what for you ask me to come here then I wanted to talk with you he began on far more serious matters I wished to but he stopped he could not address this quaint child woman staring at him in black eyed wonder in either the measured or the impetuous terms with which he would have exhorted a mature responsible being he made a step toward her she drew back striking at his extended hand half impatiently half mischievously with her fan he flushed and then burst out bluntly I want to talk with you about your soul my what your immortal soul unhappy girl what have you to make with that are you a devil her eyes grew round her though she faced him boldly I am a minister of the gospel he said in hurried and treaty you must hear me for a moment I would save your soul my immortal soul live with the Padre at the mission you must see her there my mortal body she added with a mischievous smile say to you good a night Don Esteban she dropped him a little curtsy and ran away one moment miss Ramirez said masterton eagerly but she had already slipped beyond his reach he saw her little black figure passing swiftly beside the moonlit wall saw it suddenly slide into a shadowy fissure and vanish in his blank disappointment he could not bear to re-enter the house he had left so sanguinely a few moments before but walked moodily in the garden his discomforture was the more complete he felt that his defeat was owing to some mistake in his methods and not the incorrigibility of his subject was it not a spiritual weakness in him to have resented so sharply the girl's imputation that he wished to make love to her he should have born it as Christians had even before now born slander and false testimony for their faith he might even have accepted it and let the triumph of her conversion in the end prove his innocence or was his purpose incompatible with that sisterly reflection he had so often preached to the women of his flock he might have taken her hand and called her sister pepita even as he had called Deborah sister he recalled the fact that he had for an instant held her struggling in his arms he remembered the thrill that the recollection had caused him and somehow it now sent a burning blush across his face he hurried back into the house the next day a thousand wild ideas took the place of his former settled resolution he would seek the Padre this custodian of the young girl's soul he would convince him of his error or beseech him to give him an equal access to her spirit he would seek the uncle of the girl and work upon his feelings then for three or four days he resolved to put the young girl from his mind trusting after the fashion of his kind for some special revelation from a supreme source as an indication for his conduct this revelation presently occurred as it is tapped to occur when wanted one evening his heart leaped at the familiar sound of pepita's guitar in the distance whatever his ultimate intention now he hurriedly ran into the garden the sound came from the former direction but as he unhesitatingly approached the mission wall he could see that she was not upon it and as the notes of her guitar were struck again he knew that they came from the other side but the chords were a prelude to one of his own hymns and he could entranced as her sweet childlike voice rose with the very words that he had sung the few defects were those of purely oral imitation the accents even the slight reiteration of the s were pepita's own children of the heavenly king as ye journey as sweetly as sing as sing your great redeemer's praise glorious in his works and ways he was astounded her recollection of the air and words was the more wonderful for he remembered now that he had only sung that particular hymn once but to his still greater delight and surprise her voice rose again in the second verse with a touch of plaintiveness that swelled his throat we are traveling home to God in the way our fathers trod they are happy now and we soon their happiness shall see the simple almost childish words so childish that they might have been the fitting creation of her childish lips here died away with a sweep and crash of the whole strings breathless silence followed in which Stephen masterton could feel the beatings of his own heart miss Ramarez he called in a voice that scarcely seemed his own there was no reply pepita he repeated it was strangely like the accent of a lover but he no longer cared still the singer's voice was silent then he ran swiftly beside the wall as he had seen her run until he came to the fissure it was overgrown with vines and brambles almost as impenetrable as an avatii but if she had pierced it in her delicate crepe dress so could he he brushed roughly through and found himself in a glimmering isle of pear trees close by the white wall of the mission church for a moment in that intricate tracing of ebony and ivory made by the rising moon he was dazzled but evidently his eruption into the orchard had not been as life and silent as her own for a figure in a party colored dress suddenly started into activity and running from the wall began to course through the trees until it became apparently a part of that involved pattern nothing daunted however Stephen masterton pursued his speed increased as he recognized the flounces of pepita's barred dress but the young girl had the advantage of knowing the locality and could evade her pursuer by unsuspected turns and doubles for some moments this fanciful sylvan chase was kept up in perfect silence it might have been a woodland nymph pursued by a wandering shepherd masterton presently saw that she was making toward a tiled roof that was now visible as projecting over the presidio wall and was evidently her goal of refuge he redoubled his speed with skillful audacity and sheer strength of his broad shoulders he broke through a dense seanothus hedge which pepita was discurting and suddenly appeared between her and her house with her first cry the young girl turned and tried to bury herself in the hedge but in another stride the circuit preacher was at her side and caught her panting figure in his arms while he had been running he had swiftly formulated what he should do and what he should say to her to his simple appeal for her companionship and willing ear he would add a brotherly tenderness that should invite her trustfulness in him he would confess wrong and ask her forgiveness of his abrupt solicitations he would propose to teach her more hymns they would practice solmody together even this priest the custodian of her soul could not object to that but chiefly he would thank her he would tell her how she had pleased him and this would lead to more serious and thoughtful converse all this was in his mind while he ran was upon his lips as he caught her and for an instant she lapsed exhausted in his arms but alas even in that moment he suddenly drew her toward him and kissed her as only a lover could the wire grass was already yellowing on the tasahara plains with the dusty decay of the long dry summer when dr. duchessney returned to tasahara he came to see the wife of deacon sanderson who having for the 12th time added to the population of the settlement was not doing as well as everybody except possibly dr. duchessney expected after he had made this hollow-eyed overburdened undernourished woman as comfortable as he could in her rude neglected surroundings to change the dreary chronicle of suffering he turned to the husband and said and what has become of mr. masterton who used to be in your vocation a long-grown came from the deacon hello i hope he has not had a relapse said the doctor earnestly i thought i'd knocked all that nonsense out of him i mean he added hurriedly he wrote to me only a few weeks ago that he was picking up his strength again and doing well in his weak gross sinful flesh yes no doubt returned the deacon scornfully and perhaps even in a worldly sense for those who value the vanities of life but he has lost to us for all time and lost to eternal life forever not he continued in sanctimonious vindictiveness but that i often had my doubts of brother masterton's pastness he was too much given to imagery and song but what has he done persisted dr. duchessny done he has embraced the scarlet woman dear me said the doctor so soon is it anybody you knew here not anybody's wife a he has entered the church of roam said the deacon indignantly he has forsaken the god of his father's for the tense of the idolaters he is the consort the slave of the pope but are you sure said dr. duchessny with perhaps less concern than before sure returned the deacon angrily didn't brother balkley on account of warning reports made by a god fearing and soul seeking teamster make a special pilgrimage to this land of sodom to inquire and spy out its wickedness didn't he find steven masterton steeped in the iniquity of practicing on an organ he that scorned harmonium in the tense of the lord in an idolatrous chapel with a foreign female papist for a teacher didn't he find him a guest at the board of a jesuit priest visiting the schools of the mission where this young jezebel of a singer teaches the children to chant in unknown tongues didn't he find him living with a wrinkled indian witch who called him padroni and speaking her gibberish didn't he find him who left here a man mortified in flesh and spirit and pale striving with sinners fat and rosy from native wines and flesh pots and even vain and gaudy and colored apparel and last of all didn't brother balkley hear that a rumor was spread far and wide that this miserable backslider was to take to himself a wife in one of these strange women that very jezebel who seduced him what do you call that it looks a good deal like human nature said the doctor amusingly but i call it a cure end of a convert of the mission for the last half hour he had been wandering in a medieval town in a profound medieval dream only a few days had elapsed since he had left the steamship that carried him hither and the accents of his own tongue the idioms of his own people and the sympathetic community of new world tastes and expressions still filled his mind until he woke up or rather as it seemed to him was falling asleep in the past of this old world town that he held his ancestors although a republican he had liked to think of them in quaint distinctive garb representing state and importance perhaps even aristocratic preeminence content to let the responsibility of such bad eminence rest with them entirely but a habit of conscientiousness and a love for historic truth eventually led him also to regard an honest bower standing beside his cattle in the quaint marketplace or a kindly faced black eyed dynstmedchen in a doorway with a timid respectful interest as a possible type of his progenitors for unlike some of his traveling countrymen in Europe he was not a snob and it struck him as an American that it was perhaps better to think of his race as having improved than as having degenerated in these ingenuous meditations he had passed the long rows of quaint high houses whose sagging roofs and unpatched dilapidations were yet far removed from squalor until he had reached the road bordered by poplars also unlike his own country's way sides and knew that he had wandered far from his hotel he did not care however to retrace his steps and return by the way he had come there was he reasoned some other street or turning that would eventually bring him to his hotel and yet extend his experience of the town he turned that right angles into a narrow grass lane which was however as neatly kept and apparently as public as the highway a few moments walking convinced him that it was not a thoroughfare and that it led to the open gates of a park this had something of a public look which suggested that his intrusion might be at least a pardonable trespass and he relied like most strangers on the exonerating quality of a stranger's ignorance the park lay in the direction he wished to go and yet it struck him as singular that a park of such extent should be still allowed to occupy such valuable urban space indeed its length seemed to be illimitable as he wandered on until he became conscious that he must have again lost his way and he diverged toward the only boundary a high thick set hedge the right whose line he had been following as he neared it he heard the sound of voices on the other side speaking in German with which he was unfamiliar having as yet met no one and being now impressed with the fact that for a public place the park was singularly deserted he was conscious that his position was getting serious and he determined to take this only chance of inquiring his way the hedge was thinner in some places than in others and at times he could see not only the light through it but even the moving figures of the speakers and the occasional white flash of a summer gown at last he determined to penetrate it and with little difficulty emerged on the other side but here he paused motionless he found himself behind a somewhat formal and symmetrical group of figures with their backs toward him but all stiffened into attitudes as motionless as his own and all gazing with a monotonous intensity in the direction of some handsome building which had been invisible above the hedge but which now seemed to arise suddenly before him some of the figures were in uniform immediately before him but so slightly separated from the others that he was enabled to see the house between her and her companions he was confronted by the pretty back shoulders and blonde braids of a young girl of twenty noticed that he had unwittingly intruded upon some august ceremonial he instantly slipped back into the hedge but so silently that his momentary presence was evidently undetected when he regained the parkside he glanced back through the interstices there was no movement of the figures nor a break in the silence to indicate that his intrusion had been observed with a long breath of relief he hurried from the park it was late when he finally got back but his little modern adventure had I fear quite outrun his previous medieval reflections and almost his first inquiry of the silver chained porter in the courtyard was in regard to the park there was no public park in Alstadt the hair possibly alluded to the hoof gardens the Schloss which was in the direction he indicated the Schloss was the residency of the hereditary Grand Duke Yavol he was stopping there with several hoheiten there was naturally a party there a family reunion but it was a private enclosure at times when the Grand Duke was not in residence it was open to the public in point of fact at such times tickets of admission were to be had at the hotel for fifty feniga each there was not of truth much to see except a model farm and dairy the pretty toy of a previous Grand Duchess but he seemed destined to come into closer collision with the modern life of Alstadt on entering the hotel where he'd by his long walk he passed the landlord and a man in half military uniform on the landing near his room as he entered his apartment he had a vague impression without exactly knowing why that the landlord and the military stranger had just left it this feeling was deepened by the evident disarrangement of certain articles in his unlocked portmanteau and the disorganization of his indignation passed over him it was followed by a knock at the door and the landlord blandly appeared with the stranger a thousand pardons said the former smilingly but Herr Sanderman the Oberinspector of Police wishes to speak with you I hope we are not intruding not now said the American dryly the two exchanged a vacant and deprecating smile I have to ask only a few formal questions said the Oberinspector in excellent but somewhat precise English to supplement the report which as a stranger you may not know is required by the police from the landlord in regard to the names and quality of his guests who are foreign to the town you have a passport I have said the American still more dryly but I do not keep it in an unlocked portmanteau or an open writing case an admirable precaution said Sanderman with unmoved politeness may I see it? thanks he added glancing over the document which the American produced from his pocket I see that you are a born American citizen and an earlier knowledge of that fact would have prevented this little contra-tongue you are aware Mr. Hoffman that your name is German it was born by my ancestors who came from this country two centuries ago said Hoffman curtly we are indeed honored by your return to it returned Sanderman swavly but it was the circumstance of your name being a local one and the possibility of your still being a German citizen liable to unperformed military duty which has caused the trouble his manner was clearly civil and courteous but Hoffman felt that all the time his own face and features were undergoing a profound scrutiny from the speaker and you are making sure that you will know me again said Hoffman with a smile I trust indeed both returned Sanderman with a bow although you will permit me to say that your description here pointing to the passport scarcely does your justice it is the same in all countries the official eye is not that of the young Domin Hoffman though not conceded had not lived twenty years without knowing that he was very good looking yet there was something in the remark that caused him to color with new uneasiness the Oberinspector rose with another bow and moved toward the door I hope you will let me make amends for this intrusion by doing anything I can to render your visit here a pleasant one perhaps he added it is not for long but Hoffman evaded the evident question as he resented what he imagined was a possible sneer I have not yet determined my movements he said the Oberinspector brought his heels together in a somewhat stiffer military salute and departed nothing however could have exceeded the later almost servile urbanity of the landlord who seemed to have been proud of the official visit to his guest he was profuse in his attentions and even introduced him to a singularly artistic looking man of middle age wearing an order in his buttonhole whom he met casually in the hall our court photographer explained the landlord with some fervor at whose studio only a few houses distant most of the Hoheiden and Prinzessinnen of Germany have sat for their likenesses I should feel honored if the distinguished American heir would give me a visit, said the stranger gravely as he gazed at Hoffman with an intensity which recalled the previous scrutiny of the police inspector and I would be charmed if he would avail himself of my poor skill to transmit his picture-esque features to my unique collection Hoffman returned a polite evasion to this invitation although he was conscious of being struck with the second examination of his face and the allusion to his personality the next morning the porter met him with a mysterious heir the heir would still like to see the Schloss Hoffman who had quite forgotten his adventure in the park looked vacant the Hoff authorities had no doubt heard of his visit and had intimated to the hotel proprietor that they would have permission to visit the model farm and dairy as the Americans still looked indifferent the porter pointed out with some importance that it was a ducal courtesy not to be lightly treated that few indeed of the burgers themselves had ever been admitted to this eccentric whim of the late Grand Duchess he would of course be silent about it the court would not like it known that they had made an exception to their rules in favor of a foreigner he would enter quickly and boldly alone as a crosskeeper or a dairy maid to show him over the place more amused at this important mystery over what he as an American was inclined to classify as a free pass to a somewhat heavy sideshow he gravely accepted the permission and the next morning after breakfast set out to visit the model farm and dairy dismissing his driver as he had been instructed Hoffman entered the gateway with a mingling of expectancy and a certain amusement over the boldness the porter had suggested should characterize his entrance before him was a beautifully kept lane bordered by arbor and trellis roses which seemed to sink into the distance he was instinctively following it when he became aware that he was mysteriously accompanied by a man in the livery of a chasseur who was walking among the trees almost abreast of him keeping pace with his step and after the first introductory military salute preserving a ceremonious silence there was something so ludicrous in this solemn procession toward a peaceful rural industry that by the time they had reached the bottom of the lane the American had quite recovered his good humor but here a new astonishment awaited him nestling before him in a green amphitheater lay a little wooden farm yard and outbuildings which irresistibly suggested that it had been recently unpacked and set up from a box of Nuremberg toys the symmetrical trees the galleried houses with preternaturally glazed windows even the spotty disproportionately sized cows in the white fenced barnyards were all unreal wooden and toy-like crossing a miniature bridge over a little stream from which he was quite prepared to hook metallic fish with a magnet their own size he looked about him for some real being to dispel the illusion the mysterious chasseur had disappeared in the arch of an arbor which seemed to be composed of silk ribbons green glass and pink tissue paper stood a quaint but delightful figure at first it seemed as if he had only dispelled one illusion for another for the figure before him might have been made of dresden china so daintily delicate and unique it was in color and arrangement it was that of a young girl dressed in some forgotten medieval peasant garb shades, silver-stay-laced corsage lace sleeves and helmeted metallic comb but after the dresden method the pale yellow of her hair was repeated in her bodice the pink of her cheeks was in the roses of her chins over skirt the blue of her eyes was in the blue of her petticoat the dazzling whiteness of her neck shone again in the sleeves and stockings nevertheless she was real and human for the pink of her cheeks as Hoffman's hat flew from his head and she recognized the civility with a grave little curtsy you have come to see the dairy she said in quaintly accurate English I will show you the way if you please said Hoffman gaily but she said facing him suddenly with absolutely astonished eyes Hoffman looked into them so long that their frank wonder presently contracted into an ominous mingling of restraint and resentment nothing daunted however he went on couldn't we shake all that the look of wonder returned shake all that she repeated I do not understand well I'm not positively aching to see cows and you must be sick of showing them I think too I've about sized the whole show wouldn't it be better if we sat down in that arbor supposing it won't fall down about the lot it would save you a heap of trouble and keep your pretty frock cleaner than traipsing around of course he said with a quick transition to the gentlest courtesy if you're conscientious about this thing we'll go on and not spare a cow consider me in it with you for the whole morning she looked at him again and then suddenly broke into a charming laugh it revealed a set of strong white teeth as well as a certain barbaric trace which civilized restraint had not entirely overlaid I suppose she really is a peasant in spite of that pretty frock he said to himself as he laughed too but her face presently took a shade of reserve and with a gentle but singular significance she said I think you must see the dairy Hoffman's hat was in his hand with a vivacity that tumbled the brown curls on his forehead by all means he said instantly he began walking by her side in modest but easy silence now that he thought her a conscientious peasant he was quiet and respectful presently she lifted her eyes which despite her gravity had not entirely lost their previous mirthfulness and said but you Americans in your rich and prosperous country with your large lands and your great harvest you must know all about farming never was in a dairy in my life said Hoffman gravely I'm from the city of New York where the cows give swill milk and are kept in sellers her eyebrows contracted prettily in an effort to understand then she apparently gave it up and said with a slanting glint of mischief in her eyes then you come here like the other Americans in hope to see the grand duke and duchess and the princesses no the fact is I almost tumbled into a lot of them standing like wax figures and got away as soon as I could I think I prefer the cows her head was slightly turned away he had to content himself with looking down upon the strong feet in their serviceable but smartly buckled shoes that uplifted her upright figure as she moved beside him of course he added with boyish but unmistakable courtesy if it's part of your show to trot out the family why I'm in that too I dare say you could make them interesting she said with her head still slightly turned away toward a figure a sturdy-looking woman which for the first time Hoffman perceived was walking in a line with them as the chasseur had done why did you come here at all the first time was a fool accident he returned frankly I was making a shortcut through what I thought was a public park the second time was because I had been rude to a police inspector whom I found going through my things by getting me an invitation from the Grand Duke to come here and I thought it only the square thing to both of them to accept it but I'm mighty glad I came I wouldn't have missed you for a thousand dollars you see I haven't struck anyone I cared to talk to since here he suddenly remarked that she hadn't looked at him and that the delicate whiteness of her neck was quite suffused with pink and stopped instantly presently he said quite easily yes she's watching us as if she didn't quite approve just as if she didn't catch on she's the head housekeeper of the farm perhaps you would prefer to have her show you the dairy shall I call her the figure in question was very short and stout with voluminous petticoats please don't I'll stay without your setting that paperweight on me but here's the dairy don't let her come inside among those pans of fresh milk with that smile the young girl paused too made a slight gesture with her hand and the figure passed on as they entered the dairy it was beautifully clean and fresh with a persistence that he quickly recognized as mischievous and ironical and with his characteristic adaptability accepted with even greater gravity and assumption of interest she showed him all the details from thence they passed to the farmyard where he hung with breathless attention over the names of the cows to repeat them although she was evidently familiar with the subject he could see that her zeal was fitful and impatient suppose we sit down he said pointing to an ostentatious rustic seat in the center of the green sit down she repeated wonderingly what for to talk we'll knock off and call it half a day but if you are not looking at the farm you are of course going she said quickly am I these particulars were in my invitation she again broke into a fit of laughter and at the same time cast a bright eye around the field come he said gently there are no other sightseers waiting and your conscience is clear and he moved toward the rustic seat certainly not there she added in a low voice they moved on slowly together to a copse of willows which overhung the miniature stream you are not staying long in ostentat she said no I only came to see the old town that my ancestors came from they were walking so close together that her skirt brushed his trousers but she suddenly drew away from him and looking him fixedly in the eye said ah you have relations here yes but they are dead 200 years she laughed again with a slight expression of relief they had entered the copse and were walking in dense shadow when she suddenly stopped and sat down upon a rustic bench to his surprise he found that they were quite alone tell me about these relatives she said slightly drawing aside her skirt to make room for him on the seat he did not require a second invitation he not only told her all about his ancestral progenitors but I fear even about those more recent and more nearly related to him about his own life his vocation he was a clever newspaper correspondent with a roving commission his ambitions his beliefs and his romance and then perhaps of this visit you will also make copy he smiled at her quick adaptation of his professional slang but shook his head no he said gravely no this is you the Chicago interviewer is big pay and is rich but it hasn't capital enough to buy you from me he gently slid his hand toward hers and slipped his fingers softly around it she made a slight movement of withdrawal but even then as if in forgetfulness or indifference permitted her hand to rest unresponsively in his it was scarcely an encouragement to gallantry neither was it a rejection of an unconscious familiarity but you haven't told me about yourself he said oh I she returned with her first approach to coquetry in a laugh and sidelong glance what importance is that to you is it the grand duchess and her highness the princes that you Americans seek to know I am what I am as you see you bet said Hoffman with charming decision I what you are you know and that's good enough for me but I don't even know your name she laughed again and after a pause said El's bet but I couldn't call you by your first name on our first meeting you know the new Americans are really so formal a she said slyly looking at her imprisoned hand well yes returned Hoffman disengaging it I suppose we are respectful or mean to be but whom am I to inquire for to write to you are neither to write nor inquire what she had moved in her seat so as to half face him with eyes in which curiosity mischief and a certain seriousness alternated but for the first time seemed conscious of his hand and accented her words with a slight pressure you are to return to your hotel presently and say to your landlord pack up my luggage I have finished with this old town and my ancestors and the grand duke whom I do not care to see and I shall leave all shot tomorrow thank you I don't catch on of what necessity should you I have said it that should be enough for a chivalrous American like you she again significantly looked down at her hand if you mean that you know the extent of the favor you asked me I can say no more he said seriously but give me some reason for it also she said with a slight shrug of her shoulders then I must tell you you say you do not know the grand duke and Duchess well they know you the day before yesterday you were wandering in the park as you admit you say also you got through the hedge interrupted some ceremony that ceremony was not a court function Mr. Hoffman but something equally sacred the photographing of the ducal family before the Schloss you say that you instantly withdrew but after the photograph was taken the plate revealed a stranger standing actually by the side of the princes alexandrine and even taking the part of the grand duke himself that stranger was you and the picture was spoiled said the American with a quiet laugh I should not say that returned the lady with a demure glance at her companion's handsome face and I do not believe that the princess who first saw the photograph thought so either but she is very young and willful and has the reputation of being very indiscreet and unfortunately she begged the photographer not to destroy the plate but to give it to her and to say nothing about it except that the plate was defective and to take another still that have ended there if her curiosity had not led her to confide a description of the stranger to the police inspector with the result you know then I am expected to leave town because I accidentally stumbled into a family group that was being photographed because a certain princess was indiscreet enough to show her curiosity about you corrected the fair stranger but look here I'll apologize to the princess and offer to pay for the plate and you do want to see the princess said the young girl smiling you are like the others bother the princess I want to see you and I don't see how they can prevent it if I choose to remain very easily you will find that there is something wrong with your passport and you will be sent on to pumpernickel for examination you will unwittingly transgress some of the laws of the town and be ordered to leave it you will be shadowed by the police the American and you are conducted to the frontier perhaps you will strike an officer who has insulted you and then you are finished on the spot the Americans crest rose palpably until it cocked his straw hat over his curls suppose I am content to risk it having first laid the whole matter and its trivial cause before the American minister so that he could make it hot for this whole caboodle of a country if they happen to down me by Jove I shouldn't mind being the martyr of the national episode if they'd spare me long enough to let me get the first copy over to the other side his eyes sparkled you could expose them but they would then deny the whole story and you have no evidence they would demand to know your informant and I should be disgraced and the princess who is already talked about made a subject of a scandal but no matter it is right that an American's independence shall not be interfered with she raised the hem of her handkerchief to her blue eyes and slightly turned her head aside Hoffman gently drew the handkerchief away and in so doing possessed himself of her other hand look here Miss, Miss Elspeth you know I wouldn't give you away whatever happened but couldn't I get hold of that photographer I saw him he wanted me to sit to him and make him tell me he wanted you to sit to him she said hurriedly and did you no he replied he was a little too fresh and previous so I thought he fancied some resemblance in me to somebody else ah, she said something to herself in German which he did not understand and then added aloud you did well he is the bad man this photographer promise me you shall not sit for him how can I if I'm fired out of the place like this he added ruefully but I'd like to make him give himself away to me somehow he will not and if he did he would deny it afterward now you must go I must see the princess let me go too I will explain it to her said Hoffman she stopped looked at him keenly and attempted to withdraw her hands ah, then it is so it is the princess you wish to see you are curious you too you wish to see this lady who is interested in you I ought to have known it well alike he met her gaze with laughing frankness accepting her outburst as a charming feminine weakness half jealousy half cockatry but restrained her hands nonsense he said I wish to see her that I may have the right to see you that you shall not lose your place here through me that I may come again you must never come here again then you must come where I am we will meet somewhere when you have an afternoon off you shall show me the town the houses of my ancestors their tombs possibly if the grand duke rampages the probable sight of my own she looked into his laughing eyes with her clear steadfast gravely questioning blue ones do not you Americans know that it is not the fashion here in Germany for the young men and the young women to walk together unless they are fair-loaked, fair-witch engaged she nodded her head thrice guidedly, mischievously so much the better ah, God! she made a gesture of hopelessness at his incorrigibility and again attempted to withdraw her hands I must go now well then, goodbye it was easy to draw her closer by simply lowering her still captive hands then he suddenly kissed her coldly startled lips and instantly released her she as instantly vanished El's vet, he called quickly El's vet her now really frightened face reappeared with a heightened color from the dense foliage quite to his astonishment hush, she said with her finger on her lips are you mad? I only wanted to remind you to square me with the princess, he laughed as her head disappeared he strolled back toward the gate scarcely had he quitted the shrubbery before the same chasseur made his appearance with precisely the same salute keeping exactly the same distance accompanied him to the gate at the corner of the street he hailed a droshki and was driven to his hotel the landlord came up smiling he trusted that the hare had greatly enjoyed himself at the schloss it was a distinguished honor in fact quite unprecedented Hoffman, while he determined not to commit himself nor his late fair companion was nevertheless anxious to learn something more of her relations to the schloss so pretty, so characteristic and market a figure must be well known to sightseers indeed once or twice the idea had crossed his mind with a slightly jealous twinge that left him more conscious of the impression she had made on him than he had deemed possible he asked if the model farm and dairy were always shown by the same attendance ah, God, no doubt yes his royal highness had quite a retinue when he was in residence and were these attendants in costume? there was undoubtedly a livery for the servants Hoffman felt a slight republican irritation at the epithet he knew not why but this costume was rather a historical one surely it was not entrusted to everyday menials and he briefly described it his host's blank curiosity suddenly changed to a look of mysterious and arch intelligence ah, God, yes he remembered now with his finger on his nose that when there was a fest at the schloss the farm and dairy were filled with shepherdesses in quaint costume worn by the ladies of the grand duke's own theatrical company who assumed the characters with great vivacity surely it was the same and the grand duke had treated the hair to this special courtesy yes, there was one pretty blonde young lady the Froylein Wimphembeutel a most popular sobrette who would play it to the life and the description fitted her to a hair ah, there was no doubt of it many persons indeed had been so deceived but happily now that he had given him the wink the hair could corroborate it himself by going to the theatre tonight ah, it would be a great joke quite colossal if he took a front seat where she could see him and the good man rubbed his hands in gleeful anticipation Hoffman had listened to him with a slow repugnance that was only equal to his gradual conviction that the explanation was a true one and that he himself had been ridiculously deceived the mystery of his fair companion's costume which he had accepted as part of the show the inconsistency of her manner and her evident occupation her undeniable wish to terminate the whole episode with that single interview her mingling of worldly aplomb and rustic innocence her perfect self-control and experienced acceptance of his gallantry under the simulated attitude of simplicity all now struck him as perfectly comprehensible he recalled the actresses inimitable touch in certain picturesque realistic details in the dairy which she had not spared him he recognized it now even in their bowered confidences how, like a pretty ballet scene their whole interview on the rustic bench was and it breathed through their entire conversation to their theatrical parting at the close and the whole story of the photograph was, no doubt, as pure a dramatic invention as the rest the princess's romantic interest in him that princess who had never appeared why had he not detected the old well-worn sentimental situation here was all a part of it the dark, mysterious hint of his persecution by the police was a necessary culmination to the little farce thank heaven, he had not risen at the princess even if he had given himself away to the clever actress in her own humble role then the humor of the whole situation predominated and he laughed until tears came to his eyes and his forgotten ancestors might have turned over in their graves without his heeding them and with this humanizing influence upon him he went to the theater it was a capacious event for the town and although the performance was a special one he had no difficulty in getting a whole box to himself he tried to avoid this public isolation by sitting close to the next box where there was a solitary occupant an officer apparently as lonely as himself he had made up his mind that when his fair deceiver appeared he would let her see by his significant applause that he recognized her but bore no malice for the trick she had played on him after all he had kissed her he had no right to complain if she should recognize him and this recognition led to a withdrawal of her prohibition and their better acquaintance he would be a fool to cavill at her pleasant artifice this recognition was certainly a more independent and original one than that he had supposed for its social quality and inequality he cared nothing he found himself longing for the glance of her calm blue eyes for the pleasant smile that broke the seriousness of her sweetly restrained lips there was no doubt that he should know her even as the heroine of Der Sahr und der Zimmermann on the bill before him he was becoming impatient he was waiting a stir in the outer gallery the clatter of sabers the filing of uniforms into the royal box and a triumphant burst from the orchestra showed the cause as a few ladies and gentlemen in full evening dress emerged from the background of uniforms and took their places in the front of the box Hoffman looked with some interest for the romantic princess suddenly he saw a face and shoulders in a glitter of diamonds and a glance that transfixed him he leaned over to his neighbor who is the young lady in the box? the princess alexandrina i mean the young lady in the blue with blond hair and blue eyes it is the princess alexandrina elzbet marie stefany the daughter of the grand duke there is none other there thank you he sat quietly looking at the rising curtain and the stage finally gathered his hat and coat and left the box when he reached the gallery he turned instinctively and looked back at the royal box her eyes had followed him and as he remained a moment motionless in the doorway her lips parted in a grateful smile and she waved her fan with a faint but unmistakable gesture of farewell the next morning he left alexandrina there was some little delay at the sole on the frontier and when Hoffman received back his trunk it was accompanied by a little sealed packet which was handed to him by the custom house inspector Hoffman did not open it until he was alone there hangs upon the wall of his modest apartment in new york a narrow irregular photograph ingeniously framed of himself standing side by side with a young german girl who in the estimation of his compatriots is by no means stylish and only passably good looking when he is joked by his friends about the post of honor given to this production and questioned as to the lady he remained silent the princess alexandrina elzbeth marie stefany van westfalen alstadt among her other royal qualities new whom to trust and of the indiscretion of elzbeth the devotion of enrique part one from selector stories by Brett Hart this is a librewox recording all librewox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit librewox.org the present recording is by raju ramina45 at hotmail.com the devotion of enrique by Brett Hart part one in another chronicle which dealt with the exploits of shushu a Californian mustang I gave some space to the accomplishments of enrique solquillo who visited me in training her and was also brother of councilor losatilo the young lady to whom I had freely given both the mustang and my beautiful affections I consider it a proof of the superiority of masculine friendship that neither the subsequent discussion of the mustang nor that of the young lady ever made the slightest difference to enrique or me in our exalted enmity they are wondering doubt as to what I ever could possibly have seen in his sister to admire the tolerant skepticism of the whole sex this he was born to express in the moralist combination of spanish precision and california slang for which he was justly famous as to these women and their little game he would say believe me my friend your old uncle enrique is not in it no, he will ever take a backseat when loaf is around for why? regard me here if she is a haze you shall say she will bug ya as shy she will not arrive or she will arrive too quick but if it is these women where are you for when you shall say she will as shy look you she will walk straight or she will remain tranquil when you think she bug ya or else she will arrive and look you you will not you shall get left it is ever so my father and the brother of my father have both made code to my mother when she was but a son of it my father think she have loaf he smother more so he say to her it is enough tranquilize yourself i will go i will efface myself adios shake hands tata so long see you again in the fall and what make my mother regard me she marry my father on the instant of these women believe me pancho you shall know nothing not even if they shall make you the son of your father or your nephew i have recalled this characteristic speech to show the general tendency of Henry K's convictions of the opening of this little story it is only fair to say however that his usual attitude towards the sex he so cheerfully maligned exhibited little apprehension or caution in dealing with them among the frivolous and like-minded intermixer of his race he moved with great freedom and popularity he danced well when we went to fendagos together his agility and audacity of his figures his pottner's his professed sentiments i presume shielding him from subsequent jealousies heart-burnings or envy i have a vivid recollection of him in the mysteries of the semi-quapra a somewhat coribantic dance which left much to the invention of the performance and very little to the imagination of the spectator in one of the figures a body handkerchief wave more or less gracefully by dancer and dance use before the dazzle eyes of each other acted as a love signal and was used to express alternate admiration and indifference shyness and audacity fear and transport coiness and cockatry as the dance proceeded i need not say that in the case antonymic illustration of these emotions was peculiarly extravagant but it was always performed and accepted with a gravity that was an essential feature of the dance at such times sighs would escape him which were supposed to portray the radiant stages of passion snots of jealousy bust from him at the suggestion of a rival he was overtaken by a sort of saying it was dance that expressed his timidity in making the first advances of affection the scorn of his lady love struck with him with something like a dumb all and a single gesture of invitation from her produced Mark Delirium all this was very like Enrique but on the particular occasion to which i refer i think no one was prepared to see him begin the figure with the waving of four handkerchiefs yet this he did reoting, cappering, brandishing his silk and signals like a ballerina's car in the languishment or fire of passion until in a final figure where the conquered and submitting fire one usually sinks into the arms of a partner needed be said that ingenious Enrique was found in the center of the floor supporting floor of the dances he was by no means unduly excited either by the bodies of the crowd or by his evident success in the fire ah, believe me it's nothing he said quietly rolling a fresh cigarette as he leaned against the doorway possibly i shall have to offer the chocolate or the wine to these girls or make them a progeny in the moonlight on the veranda it is ever so unless my friend he said suddenly turning toward me in an excess of chivalrous self-abnegation unless you shall yourself take my place behold i give them to you i vamos, i vanish, i make track i skedaddle i think he would have carried his extravagance to the point of summoning his four gypsy witches of partners and committing them to my care if the crowd had not at that moment parted before the remaining dances and left one of the onlookers a tall slender girl calmly surveying them through gold rim eye glasses in complete critical absorption i stared in amusement and consternation for i recognized in the first ranger miss rania manasly the congregation administered his knees everybody knew rania manasly throughout the length and breadth of the ensign hall she was at once the envy and the good of the daughters of those south western and eastern immigrants who had settled in the valley she was correct, she was critical she was faultless and observant she was proper yet independent she was highly educated she was suspected of knowing latin and greek she even spelled correctly she could wither the plainest field nose gay in the hands of other girls by giving the flowers their botanical names she never said ain't you but aren't you she looked upon didayvich as an incomplete and imperfect form of what did i do she quoted from browning and tenison and was believed to have read them she was from boston she was an easy fandango even if these facts were not already familiar to everyone there her outward appearance would have attracted attention contrasted with the gorgeous red black and yellow skirts of the dancers her plain tightly fitting gown and hat, all of one delicate grey were sufficiently notable in themselves even had they not seemed like the girl herself a kind of quiet protest to the glaring flounces before her and flat back brought into greater relief the corsetless wasteless swaying figures of the mexican girls and her long slim well-booted feet peeping from the stiff white edges of her short skirt made their broad low quarter slippers held on by the big toe appear more preposterous than ever suddenly she seemed to realize that she was standing there alone but without fear or embrassment as she drew back a little being carelessly behind her as if missing some previous companion and then her eyes fell upon mine she smiled an easy recognition then a moment later her glance rusted more curiously upon Enrique who was still by my side I disengaged myself and instantly joined her particularly as I noticed that a few of the other bystanders were beginning to stare at her with little reserve isn't it the most extraordinary thing you ever saw she said quietly then presently noticing the look of embrassment on my face she went on more by way of conversation than of explanation I just left uncle making a call on a parishner next door and was going home with Jacosta a peon servant of her uncles when I heard the music and dropped him I don't know what has become of her she added glancing round the room again it was perfectly wild when she saw that creature over there bounding about with his handkerchiefs you are speaking to him just now do tell me is he real I should think there was little doubt of that I said with a vague laugh you know what I mean she said simply is he quiet sane does he do that because he likes it or is he paid for it this was too much I pointed out somewhat hurriedly to the first castrian families that the performance was a national gypsy dance which he had joined in as a patriot and a peteran and that he was my dearest friend at the same time I was conscious that I wished she hadn't seen his last performance you don't mean to say that all that he did was in the dance she said I don't believe it it was only like him the palp of the truth she went on I do wish he would do it again don't you think you could make him perhaps he might if you asked him I said a little maliciously of course I shouldn't do that she returned quietly all the same I do believe he is really going to do it or something else do look I looked and to my horror saw that Enrique possibly incited by the delicate gold eyeglasses of Miss Panersley had divested himself of his coat and was winding the four handkerchiefs tied together picturesquely around his waist preparatory to some new performance I tried furtively to give him a warning look but in vain isn't he really to observe for anything said Miss Panersley yet with a certain comfortable anticipation in her voice you know I never saw anything like this before I wouldn't have believed such a creature could have existed even had I succeeded in warning him I doubt if it would have been any avail for seizing a guitar from one of the musicians he struck a few cards and suddenly began to zig-zag into the center of the floor swaying his body languishingly from side to side in time with the music and the pitch of a thin Spanish tenor it was a gypsy love song possibly Miss Panersley's lingual accomplishments did not include a knowledge of Castilian but she could not fail to see that the gestures and illustrative pantomime were addressed to her passionately assuring her that she was the most favored daughter of the Virgin that her eyes were like otu tapers and yet in the same breath accusing her being a brigand and assassin in her attitude toward his art he balanced with curing timidity toward her through an imaginary cloak in front of her neat boots a carpet for her to tread on and with the final astonishing period and languishing twang of his guitar sang on one knee and blew with a rose a kiss at her feet if I had been seriously angry with him before for his grotesque extravagance I could have pitied him now for the young girl's absolute unconsciousness of anything but his utter ludicrousness the applause of dancers and bystanders was instantaneous and hearty her only contribution to it was a slight parting of her thin red lips in a half incredulous smile in the silence that followed the applause as Enrique walked pantingly away I heard her saying half to herself certainly a most extraordinary creature in my indignation I could not help turning suddenly upon her and looking straight into her eyes they were brown with that peculiar velvet opacity common to the peoples near sighted persons and seemed to defy internal scrutiny she only repeated carelessly isn't he? and added please see if you can find Jacosta I suppose we ought to be going now and I dare say he won't be doing it again ah there she is good gracious child what have you got there it was Enrique's rose which Jacosta had picked up and was timidly holding out toward her mistress heavens I don't want it keep it to yourself I walked with them to the door as I did not fancy a certain glitter in the black eyes of the sonoritas Manuela and Pipita who were watching her curiously but I think she was as oblivious of this as she was of Enrique's peculiar attentions as we reached the street I felt that I ought to say something more you know I began casually that although those poor people meet here in this public way their gathering is really quite a homely pastoral and a national custom and these girls are all honest hard-working peons or servants enjoying themselves in quite the old idyllic fashion certainly said the young girl half-obstructedly of course it is a Moorish dance originally brought over I suppose by those old Andalusian immigrants 200 years ago it's quite Arabic in its suggestions I have got something like it in an old Cancun hero I picked up at a bookstore in Boston but she added with a gasp of reminiscent satisfaction that's not like him oh no he's decidedly original heavens yes I turned away in some discomforture to join Enrique who was calmly avoiding me with a cigarette in his mouth yet he looked so unconscious of any previous absurdity that I hesitated in what I thought was a necessary warning he however quickly precipitated it glancing after the retreating figures of the two women he said these means from Boston is returned to her house you do not accompany her I shall behold me I am there but I licked my arm firmly in his then I pointed out first that she was already accompanied by a servant secondly that if I who knew her had hesitated to offer myself as an escort it was hardly proper for him a perfect stranger to take that liberty that means Manasli was very punctual of etiquette which he as a Castilian gentleman ought to appreciate but will she not regard love the admiration excessive he said toiling his thin little moustache meditatively no she will not I return shortly and you ought to understand that she is on a different level from your manuals and carpments pardon my friend he said gravely these women are ever the same there is a proverb in my language listen whether the short blade of the Toledo pierces the satin or the goat's skin it shall find behind it ever the same heart to wound I am the Toledo blade possibly it is you my friend wherefore let us together pursue this girl of Boston on the instant but I kept my grasp on Enrique's arm and succeeded in restraining his mercurial impulses for the moment he halted and puffed vigorously at his cigarette but the next instant he started forward again let us however follow with the discretion in the rear we shall pass her house we shall gaze at it it shall touch her heart ridiculous as was this following of the young girl we had only just parted from I nevertheless knew that Enrique was quite capable of attempting it alone and I thought it better to humor him by consenting to walk with him in that direction but I felt it necessary to say I ought to warn you that this aala has something out there and peculiar and if I were you I shouldn't do anything to deepen that impression you are saying she is shocked said Enrique gravely I felt I could not consciously say that she was shocked and he saw my citation that she have jealousy of the sonoritas he observed with insufferable compressancy you observe I have already said that she is ever so I could stand it no longer look here Harry I said if you must know it she looks upon you as an acrobat a paid performer ah his black eyes sparkled the Torero the man who fights the bull he is also an acrobat yes but she thinks you are clown a grassy sco de tetro then I have make her laugh he said coolly I don't think he had any other you know he said coolly look he began with a laugh he make finish with a sigh I turned to look at him in the moonlight his face presented its habitual Spanish gravity a gravity that was almost ironical his small black eyes had their characteristic irresponsible adosity the irresponsibility of the vivacious young animal it could not be possible that he was really touched with the place in frigidities I remembered his equally elastic gallantries with miss Pinky Smith a blonde western bell from which both had armlessly rebounded as we walk down slowly I continued more persuasively of course this is only your nonsense but don't you see miss Manasley thinks it all in earnest and really your nature I hesitated for it suddenly struck me that it was really his nature I sang it all you don't want her to believe you a common buffoon or some intoxicated machacho intoxicated repeated Enrique with exasperating languishment yes that's the word that shall express itself my friend you have made a shot in the centre you are ring the bell every time it is intoxication but not a guardian look I have long time an ancestor of whom is a pretty story one day in church he have seen a young girl a mere peasant girl passed to the confessional he look her in her eye he staggered here Enrique wobbled pantomimically into the road he fall he would have suited the action to the word if I had not firmly held him up they have taken him home where he have remained without his clothes and have dance and sing but it was the drunkenness of love and look you these village girls was a nothing not even pretty the name of my ancestor was Don Quixote de la Manca I suggested maliciously I suspected as much come along that will do my ancestors name continued Enrique gravely was Antonio Herman Guldo de Salvetra which is not the same these Don Quixote of whom you speak exist not at all never mind only for heaven's sake as we are nearing the house don't make a fool of yourself again it was a wonderful moonlight night the deep redwood porch of the manors sleep as an age under the shadow of a great oak the largest in the Encelad was diapered in black and silver as the women stepped upon the porch their shadows were slaughtered against the door miss manors sleep past for an instant and turned to give a last look at the beauty of the night as Jacosta entered her glance fell upon us as we passed she nodded carelessly and unaffectedly to me but as she recognized Enrique she looked a little longer at him with her previous cold and invincible curiosity to my horror Enrique began instantly to affect a slight tremulousness of gait and the difficulty of breathing but I gripped his arm savagely and managed to get him past the house as the door closed finally on the young lady you do not comprehend friend Pancho, he said gravely but those eyes in their glass or as the SPU story of the burning mirror they burn, they consume me here like paper let suffix to ourselves these three she will without doubt appear at her window we shall salute her for good night we'll do nothing of the kind I said sharply finding that I was determined he permitted me to lead him away and I waited to notice however that he had indicated the window which I knew was the minister's study and that as the bedrooms were in the rear of the house this later incident was probably not overseen by the young lady or the servant but I did not part from Enrique as I saw him safely back to the sala where I left him sipping chocolate his arm alternating around the waist of his two previous partners in a delightful Arcadian like simplicity and an apparent utter forgetfulness of Miss Manorsley the fundangles were usually held on Saturday night and the next day being Sunday I missed Enrique but as he was a devout Catholic I remembered that he was at mass in the morning and possibly at the bullfight at San Antonio in the afternoon but I was somewhat surprised on the Monday morning following as I was crossing the plaza with my arm taken by the reverend Mr. Manorsley in the nearest approach to familiarity that was consistent with the reserve of this eminent divine I looked at him inquiringly although scrupulously correct in attack his features always had a singular resemblance to the national caricature known as Uncle Sam but with the humorous expression left out softly stroking his goatee with three fingers he began condescendingly more or less familiar with the characteristics and customs of the Spanish as exhibited by the settlers here a thrill of apprehension went through me had he heard of Enrique's proceedings had Miss Manorsley cruelly betrayed him to her uncle I have not given that attention myself to their language and social peculiarities he continued with a large wave of the hand being much occupied with the study of their religious beliefs and superstitions he told me that this was apt to be a common fault of people of the Manorsley type but I have to refrain from your personal discussion of them on the contrary I have held somewhat broad views on the subject of their remarkable missionary work and have suggested a scheme of cooperation with them quite independent of doctrinal teaching to my brother of other protestant Christian sects these views I first incorporated in a sermon last Sunday week I am told has created considerable attention he stopped and coughed slightly I have not heard from any of the Roman clergy but I am led to believe that my remarks were not ungrateful to Catholics generally I was relieved although still in some wonder why he should address me on this topic I had a vague remembrance of having heard that he had said something on Sunday which had offended some Puritans of his flock but nothing more continued I have just said that I was unacquainted with the characteristics of the Spanish American race I presume, however they have the impulsiveness of their Latin origin they gesticulate they express their gratitude, their joy their affection, their emotions generally by spasmodic movements they naturally dance sing a horrible suspicion crossed my mind I could only stare helplessly at him I see, he said graciously perhaps it is a somewhat gentle question I will explain myself a rather singular recurrence happened to me the other night I had returned from visiting a parishioner and was alone in my study reviewing my sermon for the next day it must have been quite late before I concluded for I distinctly remember my niece had returned with her servant fully an hour before presently I heard the sounds of a musical instrument in the road I heard the presence of someone singing or rehearsing some metrical composition in words that although couched in a language foreign to me in expression and modulation gave me the impression of being distinctly adulatory for some little time in the greater preoccupation of my task I paid little attention to the performance but its persistency at length drew me in no more idle curiosity to the window from thence the standing in my dressing gown and believing myself unperceived I noticed under the large oak in the roadside the figure of a young man who by the imperfect light appeared to be of Spanish extraction but I evidently miscalculated my own invisibility for he moved rapidly forward as I came to the window and in a series of the most extraordinary pantomime gestures saluted me beyond my experience of a few Greek plays in earlier days I confess I am not an adept in the understanding of gesticulation but it struck me that the various phases of gratitude fervor, reverence and exaltation were successively portrayed he placed his hands upon his head his heart and even clasped them together in this manner to my consternation the reverent gentlemen here imitated Enrique's most extravagant pantomime I am willing to confess he continued that I was singularly moved by them as well as by the highly creditable and Christian interest that evidently produced them at last I opened the window leaning out I told him that I regretted that the lateness of the hour prevented any further response from me than a grateful though hurried acknowledgement of his praise worthy emotion but that I should be glad to see him for a few moments in the westerie before service next day or at early candle light before the meeting of the bible class I told him that as my sole purpose had been the creation of an evangelical brotherhood and the exclusion of merely doctrinal views nothing could be more gratifying to me than his spontaneous and unsolicited testimony to my motives he appeared for an instant to be deeply affected and indeed quite overcome with emotion and then gracefully retired with some agility and slight solitary movement he passed a sudden and overwhelming idea to position of me and I looked impulsively into his face was it possible that for once Enrique's ironical extravagance had been understood met and vanquished by a master hand but the reverend Mr. Manersley's self-satisfied face betrayed no ambiguity or lurking humor he was evidently in earnest he had complacently accepted for himself the abandoned Enrique's serenade to his knees I felt a historical desire to laugh but it was checked by my companions next words I informed my niece of the occurrence in the morning at breakfast she had not heard anything of the strange performance but she agreed with me as to its undoubted origin in a grateful recognition of my liberal efforts toward his core religion it was she in fact who suggested that your knowledge of these people might corroborate my impressions I was dumbfounded had Ms. Manersley who must have recognized Enrique's hand in this concealed the fact in a desire to shield him but this was so inconsistent with her utter indifference to him except as a grotesque study that she would have been more likely to tell her uncle all about his previous performance nor could it be that she wished to conceal her visit to the fundango she was far too independent for that and it was even possible that the reverend gentleman in his desire to know more of Enrique's compatriots would not have objected in my confusion I meekly added my conviction to hers congratulated him upon his evident success and slipped away but I was burning with a desire to see Enrique and know all he was imaginative but not untruthful unfortunately I learned that he was just then following one of his erratic impulses and had gauntier rodeo at his cousins in the foothills where he was alternately exercising his horsemanship in catching and breaking wild cattle and delighting his relatives with his incomparable grasp of the American language and customs and of the heirs of a young man of fashion then my thoughts occurred to Ms. Manersley had she really been oblivious to Enrique's serenade I resolved to find out if I could without betraying Enrique indeed it was possible after all that it might not have been he.