the crusade of the excelsior-第18部分

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bristling　thorns；　it　was　through　a　gap　in　this　green　barrier　that

he　had　found　his　way　a　few　hours　before；　as　his　torn　clothes　still

testified。　　At　one　side　ran　the　low　wall　of　the　Alcalde's　casa；　a

mere　line　of　dark　shadow　in　that　strange　diaphanous　mist　that

seemed　to　suffuse　all　objects。　　The　gnarled　and　twisted　branches　of

pear…trees；　gouty　with　old　age；　bent　so　low　as　to　impede　any

progress　under　their　formal　avenues；　out　of　a　tangled　labyrinth　of

figtrees；　here　and　there　a　single　plume　of　feathery　palm　swam　in　a

drowsy　upper　radiance。　　The　shrubbery　around　him；　of　some　unknown

variety；　exhaled　a　faint　perfume；　he　put　out　his　hand　to　grasp　what

appeared　to　be　a　young　catalpa；　and　found　it　the　trunk　of　an

enormous　passion　vine；　that；　creeping　softly　upward；　had　at　last

invaded　the　very　belfry　of　the　dim　tower　above　him；　and　touching

it；　his　soul　seemed　to　be　lifted　with　it　out　of　the　shadow。



The　great　hush　and　quiet　that　had　fallen　like　a　benediction　on

every　sleeping　thing　around　him；　the　deep　and　passionless　repose

that　seemed　to　drop　from　the　bending　boughs　of　the　venerable　trees；

the　cool；　restful；　earthy　breath　of　the　shadowed　mold　beneath　him；

touched　only　by　a　faint　jessamine…like　perfume　as　of　a　dead

passion；　lulled　the　hurried　beatings　of　his　heart　and　calmed　the

feverish　tremor　of　his　limbs。　　He　allowed　himself　to　sink　back

against　the　wall；　his　hands　tightly　clasped　before　him。　　Gradually；

the　set；　abstracted　look　of　his　eyes　faded　and　became　suffused；　as

if　moistened　by　that　celestial　mist。　　Then　he　rose　quickly；　drew

his　sleeve　hurriedly　across　his　lashes；　and　began　slowly　to　creep

along　the　wall　again。



Either　the　obscurity　of　the　shrubbery　became　greater　or　he　was

growing　preoccupied；　but　in　steadying　himself　by　the　wall　he　had；

without　perceiving　it；　put　his　hand　upon　a　rude　door　that；　yielding

to　his　pressure；　opened　noiselessly　into　a　dark　passage。　　Without

apparent　reflection　he　entered；　followed　the　passage　a　few　steps

until　it　turned　abruptly；　turning　with　it；　he　found　himself　in　the

body　of　the　Mission　Church　of　Todos　Santos。　　A　swinging…lamp；　that

burned　perpetually　before　an　effigy　of　the　Virgin　Mother；　threw　a

faint　light　on　the　single　rose…window　behind　the　high　altar；

another；　suspended　in　a　low　archway；　apparently　lit　the　open　door

of　the　passage　towards　the　refectory。　　By　the　stronger　light　of　the

latter　Hurlstone　could　see　the　barbaric　red　and　tarnished　gold　of

the　rafters　that　formed　the　straight　roof。　　The　walls　were　striped

with　equally　bizarre　coloring；　half　Moorish　and　half　Indian。　　A　few

hangings　of　dyed　and　painted　cloths　with　heavy　fringes　were

disposed　on　either　side　of　the　chancel；　like　the　flaps　of　a　wigwam；

and　the　aboriginal　suggestion　was　further　repeated　in　a　quantity　of

colored　beads　and　sea…shells　that　decked　the　communion…rails。　　The

Stations　of　the　Cross；　along　the　walls；　were　commemorated　by

paintings；　evidently　by　a　native　artistto　suit　the　same　barbaric

taste；　while　a　larger　picture　of　San　Francisco　d'Assisis；　under　the

choir；　seemed　to　belong　to　an　older　and　more　artistic　civilization。

But　the　sombre　half…light　of　the　two　lamps　mellowed　and　softened

the　harsh　contrast　of　these　details　until　the　whole　body　of　the

church　appeared　filled　with　a　vague　harmonious　shadow。　　The　air；

heavy　with　the　odors　of　past　incense；　seemed　to　be　a　part　of　that

expression；　as　if　the　solemn　and　sympathetic　twilight　became

palpable　in　each　deep；　long…drawn　inspiration。



Again　overcome　by　the　feeling　of　repose　and　peacefulness；　Hurlstone

sank　upon　a　rude　settle；　and　bent　his　head　and　folded　arms　over　a

low　railing　before　him。　　How　long　he　sat　there；　allowing　the　subtle

influence　to　transfuse　and　possess　his　entire　being；　he　did　not

know。　　The　faint　twitter　of　birds　suddenly　awoke　him。　　Looking　up；

he　perceived　that　it　came　from　the　vacant　square　of　the　tower　above

him；　open　to　the　night　and　suffused　with　its　mysterious　radiance。

In　another　moment　the　roof　of　the　church　was　swiftly　crossed　and

recrossed　with　tiny　and　adventurous　wings。　　The　mysterious　light

had　taken　an　opaline　color。　　Morning　was　breaking。



The　slow　rustling　of　a　garment；　accompanied　by　a　soft　but　heavy

tread；　sounded　from　the　passage。　　He　started　to　his　feet　as　the

priest；　whom　he　had　seen　on　the　deck　of　the　Excelsior；　entered　the

church　from　the　refectory。　　The　Padre　was　alone。　　At　the　apparition

of　a　stranger；　torn　and　disheveled；　he　stopped　involuntarily　and

cast　a　hasty　look　towards　the　heavy　silver　ornaments　on　the　altar。

Hurlstone　noticed　it；　and　smiled　bitterly。



〃Don't　alarm　yourself。　　I　only　sought　this　place　for　shelter。〃



He　spoke　in　Frenchthe　language　he　had　heard　Padre　Esteban　address

to　Mrs。　Brimmer。　　But　the　priest's　quick　eye　had　already　detected

his　own　mistake。　　He　lifted　his　hand　with　a　sublime　gesture　towards

the　altar；　and　said；



〃You　are　right！　　Where　should　you　seek　shelter　but　here？〃



The　reply　was　so　unexpected　that　Hurlstone　was　silent。　　His　lips

quivered　slightly。



〃And　if　it　were　SANCTUARY　I　was　seeking？〃　he　said。



〃You　would　first　tell　me　why　you　sought　it；〃　said　Padre　Esteban

gently。



Hurlstone　looked　at　him　irresolutely　for　a　moment　and　then　said；

with　the　hopeless　desperation　of　a　man　anxious　to　anticipate　his

fate；



〃I　am　a　passenger　on　the　ship　you　boarded　yesterday。　　I　came　ashore

with　the　intention　of　concealing　myself　somewhere　here　until　she

had　sailed。　　When　I　tell　you　that　I　am　not　a　fugitive　from　justice；

that　I　have　committed　no　offense　against　the　ship　or　her

passengers；　nor　have　I　any　intention　of　doing　so；　but　that　I　only

wish　concealment　from　their　knowledge　for　twenty…four　hours；　you

will　know　enough　to　understand　that　you　run　no　risk　in　giving　me

assistance。　　I　can　tell　you　no　more。〃



〃I　did　not　see　you　with　the　other　passengers；　either　on　the　ship　or

ashore；〃　said　the　priest。　　〃How　did　you　come　here？〃



〃I　swam　ashore　before　they　left。　　I　did　not　know　they　had　any　idea

of　landing　here；　I　expected　to　be　the　only　one；　and　there　would

have　been　no　need　for　concealment　then。　　But　I　am　not　lucky；〃　he

added；　with　a　bitter　laugh。



The　priest　glanced　at　his　garments；　which　bore　the　traces　of　the

sea；　but　remained　silent。



〃Do　you　think　I　am　lying？〃



The　old　priest　lifted　his　head　with　a　gesture。



〃Not　to　mebut　to　God！〃



The　young　man　followed　the　gesture；　and　glanced　around　the　barbaric

church　with　a　slight　look　of　scorn。　　But　the　profound　isolation；

the　mystic　seclusion；　and；　above　all；　the　complete　obliteration　of

that　world　and　civilization　he　shrank　from　and　despised；　again

subdued　and　overcame　his　rebellious　spirit。　　He　lifted　his　eyes　to

the　priest。



〃Nor　to　God；〃　he　said　gravely。



〃Then　why　withhold　anything　from　Him　here？〃　said　the　priest　gently。



〃I　am　not　a　CatholicI　do　not　believe　in　confession；〃　said

Hurlstone　doggedly；　turning　aside。



But　Padre　Esteban　laid　his　large　brown　hand　on　the　young　man's

shoulder。　　Touched　by　some　occult　suggestion　in　its　soft　contact；

he　sank　again　into　his　seat。



〃Yet　you　ask　for　the　sanctuary　of　His　housea　sanctuary　bought　by

that　contrition　whose　first　expression　is　the　bared　and　open　soul！

To　the　first　worldly　shelter　you　soughtthe　peon's　hut　or　the

Alcalde's　casayou　would　have　thought　it　necessary　to　bring　a

story。　　You　would　not　conceal　from　the　physician　whom　you　asked　for

balsam　either　the　wound；　the　symptoms；　or　the　cause？　　Enough；〃　he

said　kindly；　as　Hurlstone　was　about　to　reply。　　〃You　shall　have　your

request。　　You　shall　stay　here。　　I　will　be　your　physician；　and　will

salve　your　wounds；　if　any　poison　I　know　not　of　rankle　there；　you

will　not　blame　me；　son；　but　perhaps　you　will　assist　me　to　find　it。

I　will　give　you　a　secluded　cell　in　the　dormitory　until　the　ship　has

sailed。　　And　then〃



He　dropped　quietly　on　the　settle；　took　the　young　man's　hand

paternally　in　his　own；　and　gazed　into　his　eyes　as　if　he　read　his

soul。



And　then　。　。　。　　Ah；　yes　。　。　。　　What　then？　　Hurlstone　glanced　once

more　around　him。　　He　thought　of　the　quiet　night；　of　the　great　peace

that　had　fallen　upon　him　since　he　had　entered　the　garden；　and　the

promise　of　a　greater　peace　that　seemed　to　breathe　with　the　incense

from　those　venerable　walls。　　He　thought　of　that　crumbling　barrier；

that　even　in　its　ruin　seemed　to　shut　out；　more　completely　than

anything　he　had　conceived；　his　bitter　past；　and　the　bitter　world

that　recalled　it。　　He　thought　of　the　long　days　to　come；　when；

forgetting　and　forgotten；　he　might　find　a　new　life　among　these

simple　aliens；　themselves　forgotten　by　the　world。　　He　had　thought

of　this　once　before　in　the　garden；　it　occurred　to　him　again　in　this

Lethe…like　oblivion　of　the　little　church；　in　the　kindly　pressure　of

the　priest's　hand。　　The　ornaments　no　longer　looked　uncouth　and

barbaricrather　they　seemed　full　of　some　new　spiritual

significance。　　He　suddenly　lifted　his　eye