The cathedral that year was undergoing repairs.
Its cypress-log foundations, which had kept sound from colonial days in a soil always wet, had begun to decay when a new drainage system began to dry it out. Fact, but also allegory.
It may have been in connection with this work, or with some change in the house of the Discalceated Sisters of Mt. Carmel, or of the archbishop, or of St. Augustine's Church, that a certain priest of exceptional taste, Beloiseau's father confessor, dropped in on him to order an ornamental2 wrought-iron grille for the upper half of a new door. While looking at patterns he asked:
"And what is the latest word from your son?"
Scipion showed him that picture--he had bought one for himself--the dear old unmistakable back of "Papa Joffre," and the dear young unmistakable faces of the two boys, Beloiseau and De l'Isle.
A talk followed, on the conflict between a father's pride and his yearning3 to see his only son safely delivered from constant deadly peril4. They spoke5 of Aline. Not for the first time; Scipion, unaware6 that the good father was her confessor also, had told him before of his son's hopeless love, to ask if it was not right for him, the father, to help Chester win the marvellous girl, since winning would win the two boys home again.
Patterns waited while the ironworker said that to the tender chagrin7 of all the coterie8 Chester was refused--a man of such fineness, such promise, mind, charm, and integrity, and so fitted for her in years, temperament9, and tastes, that no girl, however perfect, could hope to be courted by more than one such in a lifetime.
In brief Creole prose he struck the highest key of Shakespeare's sonnets10: "Was she not doing a grievous wrong to herself and Chester, to the whole coterie that so adored her, especially to the De l'Isles and himself, and even to society at large? Her reasons," he said, shifting to English, "I can guess at them, but guessing at 'alf-a-dozen convinze' me of none!"
"Have you guess' at differenze of rilligious faith?" the priest inquired.
"Yes, but--nothing doing; I 'ave to guess no."
"Tha'z a great matter to a good Catholic."
"Ah, father! Or-din-arily, yes. Bud this time no. Any'ow, this time tha'z not for us Catholic' to be diztress' ab-out. . . . Ah, yes, chil'ren. But, you know? If daughter', they'll be of the faith and conduc' of the mother; if son', faith of the mother, conduc' of the father; and I think with that even you, pries1' of God, be satizfie', eh?
"My dear frien', you know what I billieve? Me, I billieve in heaven they are waiting impatiently for that marriage."
The priest may have been professionally delinquent11, but he chose to leave the argument unrefuted. He smilingly looked at his watch. "Well," he said, "I choose this design. Make it so. Good evening." He turned away. Beloiseau called after him, but the man of God kept straight on.
The ironworker loitered back to where the chosen pattern lay, and stood over it still thin............