errupted the boy, "I have thought of these things for a
long, long time. I do not believe them. And I do not wish to become a
priest."

The father fell silent. It was one of those tense moments which every
man experiences when he sees a withering frost slowly gathering over
the fondest hopes of a lifetime. The family of Rincon, aristocratic,
intensely loyal to Church and State, had willingly laid itself upon
the sacrificial altar in deference to its honored traditions. Custom
had become law. Obedience of son to parent and parent to Sovereign,
spiritual or temporal, had been the guiding star of the family's
destinies. To think was lawful; but to hold opinions at variance with
tradition was unspeakable heresy. Spontaneity of action was
commendable; but conduct not prescribed by King or Pope was
unpardonable crime. Loss of fortune, of worldly power and prestige,
were as nothing; deviation from the narrow path trodden by the
illustrious scions of the great Juan was everything. That this lad, to
whom had descended the undying memories of a long line of glorious
defenders of kingly and papal power, should presume to shatter the
sacred Rincon traditions, was unbelievable. It was none other than the
work of Satan. The boy had fallen an innocent victim to the devil's
wiles.

But the house of Rincon had withstood the assaults of the son of
perdition for more than three centuries. It would not yield now! The
all-powerful Church of Rome stood behind it--and the gates of hell
could not prevail against her! The Church would save her own. Yes, the
father silently argued, through his brother's influence the case
should be laid before His Eminence, the Archbishop. And, if need be,
the Holy Father himself should be called upon to cast the devil out of
this tormented child. To argue with the boy now were futile, even
dangerous. The lad had grown up with full knowledge of his parents'
fond hopes for his future. He had never openly opposed them, although
at times the worried mother would voice her fears to the father when
her little son brought his perplexing questions to her and failed to
find satisfaction. But until this night the father had felt no alarm.
Indeed, he had looked upon the child's inquisitiveness as but a
logical consequence of his precocity and unusual mental powers, in
which he himself felt a father's swelling pride. To his thought it
augured rapid promotion in the Church; it meant in time a Cardinal's
hat. Ah, what glo