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Updated: June 17, 2025
The girl made a little formal curtsy. "When my father returns," she said in a queer, liquid accent, "he will thank you, Meester Pendleton; just now he is on a journey." And she gave her hand to Lucian Morrow to kiss, like a lady of the time. Then Zindorf, mincing his big step, led her out.
The big man did not move, he stood with the door closed behind him, and studied my father's face like one who feels the presence of a danger that he cannot locate. "What do you mean?" he said. "I mean," replied my father, "I mean, Zindorf, that each master has a certain intent in events, and this intent is indicated by his set of signs.
He spoke as though he addressed some present but invisible authority. My father answered him "They are the people of Virginia," he said, "and they come, Zindorf, in the purpose of events that you have turned terribly backward!" The man was in some desperate perplexity, but he had steel nerves and the devil's courage. He looked my father calmly in the face. "What does all this mean?" he said.
"Pendleton," said the man, "I do not understand you." He spoke slowly and precisely, like one moving with an excess of care. My father went on, his voice strong and level, his eyes on Zindorf. "The thing is a great mystery," he said. "It is not clear to any of us in its causes or its relations.
"It means, Zindorf," cried my father, "it means that the very things, the very particular things, that you ought to have used for the glory of God, God has used for your damnation!" And again, in the clear April air, there entered through the open window the faint tolling of a bell. "Listen, Zindorf! I will tell you.
Lucian Morrow's early comment on Zindorf seemed, all at once, to discover the nature of this whole affair. He said that suddenly, with a range of vision like the great figures in the Pentateuch, he saw how things right and true would work out backward into abominations, if, by any chance, the virtue of God in events were displaced!
I took possession of them as a Justice of the Peace, ordered the body sent on here, and the people to assemble." He extended his arm toward the faint, quivering, distant sound. "Listen, Zindorf," he cried; "the bell began to toll for Duncan, but it tolls now for the murderer of Ordez. It tolls to raise the country against the assassin!" The false monk had the courage of his master.
The man flicked a bit of dust from his immaculate coat sleeve. "It will be a conference of high powers. I shall represent Eros; Mr. Pendleton, Virginia; and Zindorf" and he laughed "his Imperial Master!" And to the eye the three men fitted to their legend. The Hellenic God of pleasure in his sacred groves might have chosen for his disciple one from Athens with a face and figure like this youth.
My father sat down behind the table by the great open window, and looked at Zindorf. The man moved and acted like a monk. He had the figure and the tonsured head. His coarse, patched clothes cut like the homely garments of the simple people of the day, were not wholly out of keeping to the part.
The two men seemed for a moment uncertain what to do. Then Zindorf addressed my father. "Pendleton," he said, "the fortunes of life change, and the ideas suited to one status are ridiculous in another. Ordez was a fool. He made believe to this girl a future that he never intended, and she is under the glamor of these fancies."
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