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Updated: May 13, 2025
It was her intention to get to Pampeluna, through all difficulties, and the incidents of the road occupied no place in her thoughts. She was vaguely confident that no one could absolutely stand in her way. Had not Evasio Mon said that the Pope would willingly annul her marriage? She was thinking these thoughts as she drove through the little mountain village.
He turned away from her and walked slowly towards the library window which stood open and gave passage to the sound of moving cups and saucers. We all carry with us through life the remembrance of certain words probably forgotten by the speaker. A few bear the keener, sharper memory of words unspoken. Juanita never forgot the silence of Evasio Mon as he walked away from her.
Evasio Mon, watching him from the doorway, smiled faintly. He seemed to have no misgivings as to what Leon might say. "But you wish to become one?" "It is my dearest desire." The dying man laughed. "You are like your mother," he said. "She was a fool. You may go back to bed, my friend." "But I would rather stay here and pray by your bedside," pleaded the son.
It seemed that the Sarrion brain had the power the secret of so much success in this world of thrusting forth a sure and steady hand to grasp the heart of a question and tear it from the tangle of side-issues among which the majority of men and women are condemned to flounder. "Where is Evasio Mon?" she asked. Marcos answered with a low, contented laugh.
I have never quarreled with him, and, therefore, we have never made it up." Which, perhaps, was as good a description of Evasio Mon as any man had given. He had never quarreled with any one. He was, in consequence, a lonely man. For the majority of human beings are gregarious. They meet together in order to quarrel.
And Evasio Mon probably knew of the historic scene at Ems as soon as any man in the Peninsula; for history will undoubtedly show, when a generation or so has passed away, that the latter stages of Napoleon's declaration of war were hurried on by priestly intrigue. It will be remembered that Bismarck was the deadliest and cleverest foe that Jesuitism has had.
With a quick gesture, Marcos indicated the open window, through which the sound of any exclamation might easily reach the ear of Evasio Mon. "Juanita has gone," he said, in French. "Read that note. It is his doing, of course." "I know now," wrote Juanita, "why you were afraid of my growing up. But I am grown up and I have found out why you married me."
"Because they are poor?" inquired Sarrion, who did not move a step in response to Evasio Mon's lead. "Partly," admitted Mon, holding up one finger. "Because, my friend, none but the foolish are poor in this world." "Then why has the good God sent so many fools into the world?" "Because He wants a few saints, I suppose."
She turned, and with a smile and gesture invited him to be seated. A watchful look came into Evasio Mon's quick eyes behind the glasses that reflected the last rays of the setting sun. For the young and the guilty, silence has a special terror. Mon had dealt with the young and the guilty all his life. He sat down without speaking. He was waiting for Juanita.
"I was not wondering what Juanita will say," confessed Sarrion with a laugh, "but what Evasio Mon will do." For Sarrion persisted in taking an optimistic view of Juanita and that which must supervene when she had grown into understanding and knowledge. Marcos went back to the hotel. He had many arrangements to make.
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