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The trials of those days enriched John Richling in the acquaintanceship and esteem of Sister Jane's little lisping rector. And, by the way, none of those with whom Dr. Sevier dined on that darkest night of Richling's life became victims.
See Garibaldi: despising the restraints of law; careless of the simplest conventionalities that go to make up an honest gentleman; doing both right and wrong like a lion; everything in him leonine. All this was in Ristofalo's reach. It was all beyond Richling's. Which was best, the capability or the incapability? It was a question he would have liked to ask Mary.
Richling's eye kindled an instant at the Doctor's compulsory tone, but he said, gently: "Why, Doctor, Mary will never consent to leave me." "Of course she will not. But you must make her do it! That's what you must do.
He was thinking, away down at the bottom of his heart, and the Doctor knew it, that this was the unkindest question, and the most cold-blooded, that he had ever heard. The Doctor shook his paper-folder again. "You see, now, as to the bare fact, I don't know you." Richling's jaw dropped with astonishment. His eye lighted up resentfully. But the speaker went on: "I esteem you highly.
"On borrowed money?" asked Richling, evidently looking upon that question as a poser. "Yes." "Oh, no," said Richling, with a smile of superiority; but the other one smiled too, and shook his head. "Borrow mo', if you don't." Richling's heart flinched at the word. He had thought he was giving his true reason; but he was not.
Not got cent in world." The Italian's low, mellow laugh claimed Richling's admiration. "Why, when did that happen?" he asked. "Yes'day," replied the other, still laughing. "And how are you going to provide for the future?" Richling asked, smiling down into the face of the shorter man. The Italian tossed the future away with the back of his hand. "I got nothin' do with that."
Risto falo, I I , the fact is, I" he shook his head "I haven't much money." "Dollar will start me," said the Italian, whose feet had not moved an inch since he touched Richling's shoulder. "Be aw righ' to-morrow." "You can't invest one dollar by itself," said the incredulous Richling. "Yes. Return her to-morrow." Richling swung his head from side to side as an expression of disrelish.
Sevier and Richling had that wish together. They had many wishes that were greatly at variance the one's from the other's. The Doctor had struggled for the Union until the very smoke of war began to rise into the sky; but then he "went with the South." He was the only one in New Orleans who knew whatever some others may have suspected that Richling's heart was on the other side.
Had Richling's bodily strength remained, so that he could have been a possible factor, however small, in the strife, it is hard to say whether they could have been together day by day and night by night, as they came to be when the Doctor took the failing man into his own home, and have lived in amity, as they did.
He caught Richling's face roughly between his hands, and then gave his back a caressing thwack. "Toctor, vot you dtink? Ve goin' teh run prate-cawts mit copponic-essut kass. Tispense mit hawses!" He laughed long but softly, and smote Richling again as the three walked across the bakery yard abreast. "Well?" said Dr. Sevier to Richling, in a low tone, "always working toward the one happy end."
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