suitable for worship. And certain of my friends still alive at home are
good enough to remember this taste of mine, and to send me each year
some of the new music that I should never hear of otherwise. Then we
study these things also. And although our organ is a miserable affair,
Felipe manages very cleverly to make it do. And while the voices are
singing these operas, especially the old ones, what harm is there
if sometimes the priest is thinking of something else? So there's my
confession! And now, whether 'Trovatore' has come or not, I shall
not allow you to leave us until you have taught all you know of it to
Felipe."

The new opera, however, had duly arrived. And as he turned its pages
Padre Ignazio was quick to seize at once upon the music that could be
taken into his church. Some of it was ready fitted. By that afternoon
Felipe and his choir could have rendered "Ah! se l'error t' ingombra"
without slip or falter.

Those were strange rehearsals of "Il Trovatore" upon this California
shore. For the padre looked to Gaston to say when they went too fast
or too slow, and to correct their emphasis. And since it was hot, the
little Erard piano was carried each day out into the mission garden.
There, in the cloisters among the oleanders, in the presence of the tall
yellow hills and the blue triangle of sea, the "Miserere" was slowly
learned. The Mexicans and Indians gathered, swarthy and black-haired,
around the tinkling instrument that Felipe played; and presiding over
them were young Gaston and the pale padre, walking up and down the
paths, beating time, or singing now one part and now another. And so it
was that the wild cattle on the uplands would hear "Trovatore" hummed by
a passing vaquero, while the same melody was filling the streets of the
far-off world.

For three days Gaston Villere remained at Santa Ysabel del Mar; and
though not a word of the sort came from him, his host could read San
Francisco and the gold-mines in his countenance. No, the young man could
not have stayed here for twenty years! And the padre forbore urging his
guest to extend his visit.

"But the world is small," the guest declared at parting. "Some day it
will not be able to spare you any longer. And then we are sure to meet.
And you shall hear from me soon, at any rate."

Again, as upon the first evening, the two exchanged a few courtesies,
more graceful and particular than we, who have not time, and fight no
duels, find worth a ma