re; and a renegade priest could not live in
Toledo. You see this masquerade? I wear it to-day for the last time;
to-morrow I shall taste the first joy of my life, tearing this shroud
into shreds, such small shreds that no one will be able to use them.
I shall be a man. I will go far away, as far as I can. I wish to know
what the world is like as I have to live in it. I know no one, I shall
have no assistance. You are the most extraordinary man I have ever
known, and here you are hidden in this dungeon by your own free will,
concealed in a Church which to your views must be empty. I am not
afraid of poverty. When one has been God's representative on six reals
a day one can look hunger in the face. I will be a workman; I will dig
the earth, if necessary. I will get employment on something--but I
shall be a free man."

As the two friends walked up and down the cloister Gabriel counselled
Don Martin in determining the place to which he should direct his
steps, as his thoughts wavered between Paris and the American
republics, where emigration was most needed.

As the evening fell, Gabriel took leave of his disciple; his
fellow-watchman was waiting for him in the cloister ready for
locking-up time.

"Probably we shall never meet again," said the chaplain sadly. "You
will end your days here, in the house of a God in whom you do not
believe."

"Yes, I shall die here," said Gabriel, smiling. "He and I hate one
another, but all the same it seems as if He could not do without me.
If He goes out into the streets it is I who guide His steps, and again
at night, it is I who guard His wealth. Good-bye, and good-luck,
Martin. Be a man without weakness. Truth is well worth poverty."

The disappearance of the chaplain of nuns was effected without
scandal. Don Antolin and the other priests thought the young man
had moved to Madrid through ambition, to help swell the number of
place-hunting clerics. Gabriel was the only one who knew Don Martin's
real intentions. Besides, an astonishing piece of news, that fell on
the Cathedral like a thunderbolt, soon caused the young priest to be
forgotten, throwing all the gentlemen of the choir, all the smaller
folk in the sacristies, and the whole population of the upper cloister
into the greatest commotion.

The quarrels between the Archbishop and his Chapter had ended,
everything that had been done by the cardinal was approved of in Rome,
and His Eminence fairly roared with joy in his palace,