and its cargo and the
landed men and various business and conversations occupied them. But the
freight for the mission once seen to, there was not much else to hang
about here for.

The barkentine was only a coaster like many others which now had begun
to fill the sea a little more of late years, and presently host and
guest were riding homeward. And guessing at the two men from their
outsides, any one would have got them precisely wrong; for within the
turbulent young figure of Gaston dwelt a spirit that could not be more
at ease, while revolt was steadily smouldering beneath the schooled and
placid mask of the padre.

Yet still the strangeness of his being at such a place came back as
a marvel into the young man's lively mind. Twenty years in prison, he
thought, and hardly aware of it! And he glanced at the silent priest.
A man so evidently fond of music, of theatres, of the world, to whom
pressed flowers had meant something once--and now contented to bleach
upon these wastes! Not even desirous of a brief holiday, but finding
an old organ and some old operas enough recreation! "It is his age, I
suppose," thought Gaston. And then the notion of himself when he should
be sixty occurred to him, and he spoke.

"Do you know, I do not believe," said he, "that I should ever reach such
contentment as yours."

"Perhaps you will," said Padre Ignazio, in a low voice.

"Never!" declared the youth. "It comes only to the few, I am sure."

"Yes. Only to the few," murmured the padre.

"I am certain that it must be a great possession," Gaston continued;
"and yet--and yet--dear me! life is a splendid thing!"

"There are several sorts of it," said the padre.

"Only one for me!" cried Gaston. "Action, men, women, things--to be
there, to be known, to play a part, to sit in the front seats; to have
people tell each other, 'There goes Gaston Villere!' and to deserve
one's prominence. Why, if I were Padre of Santa Ysabel del Mar for
twenty years--no! for one year--do you know what I should have done?
Some day it would have been too much for me. I should have left these
savages to a pastor nearer their own level, and I should have ridden
down this canyon upon my mule, and stepped on board the barkentine, and
gone back to my proper sphere. You will understand, sir, that I am far
from venturing to make any personal comment. I am only thinking what a
world of difference lies between men's natures who can feel alike as we
do upon so man