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The little man rose in response to the chapel bell, which was slowly tolling for the last service of the day. "Come," he said, "let us say a prayer before we go to bed." THE ALTERNATIVE The letter written by the Count de Sarrion to his son was delivered to Marcos, literally from hand to hand, by the messenger to whose care it was entrusted.
He was wise enough to perceive that his must now be the secondary part. To possess power and to resist the temptation to use it, is the task of kings. To quietly relinquish the tiller of a younger life is a lesson that gray hairs have to learn. "I think," said Marcos at length, "that we must see Leon. He is her guardian. We will give him a last chance." "Will you warn him?" inquired Sarrion.
"But Juanita is not a postulant," said Sarrion, with a laugh. "She may have been told to consider herself one." "But no one has a right to do that," said Sarrion pleasantly. "No." "And even if she were a novice she could draw back." "There are some Orders," replied Sor Teresa, slowly stirring her coffee, "which make it a matter of pride never to lose a novice."
To find such ignorance of the world, such innocence of heart, one must go to a nunnery or to Nature. "I came to see you to-night," said Sarrion, "as I may be leaving Saragossa again to-morrow morning." "And the good Sister allowed me to see you. I wonder why! She has been cross with me lately. I am always breaking things, you know." She spread out her hands with a gesture of despair.
It was the face of a man who had seen something that he would never forget. He looked at his father. "Evasio Mon," he said. "Killed?" Marcos nodded his head. "You did not do it?" said Sarrion sharply. "No. They found him among the Carlists, There were five or six priests. It was Zeneta wounded himself who recognised him and told me. He was not dead when Zeneta found him and he spoke.
"We were on the other side," said Sarrion, with a shrug of the shoulders. "And I have been the ball." Sarrion glanced at her sideways. This was the moment that Marcos had always anticipated. Sarrion wondered why he should have to meet it and not Marcos. Juanita sat motionless with steady eyes fixed on the distant mountains.
Tell me if the Sor Teresa is within?" "The Sor Teresa is at Pampeluna, and the Mother Superior is here in the school herself. The Sor Teresa is only Sister Superior, you must know, and is therefore subordinate to the Mother Superior." Sarrion was a pleasant-spoken man, and a man of the world.
"Have you heard from your father?" he asked. "I had a letter on Saint Mark's Day," she answered. "I have not heard from him since. He said he hoped to give me a surprise, he trusted a pleasant one, during the summer. What did he mean? Do you know?" "No," answered Sarrion, thoughtfully. "I know nothing." "And Marcos is not with you?" the girl went on gaily.
"You yourself have had a hurried journey from Pampeluna," said Sarrion to his sister. "I hear the railway line is broken by the Carlists." "The damage is being repaired," replied Sor Teresa. "My journey was not a pleasant one, but that is of no importance since I have arrived." "Why did you come?" asked Marcos, bluntly. He was a plain-dealer in thought and word.
It seemed that Francisco de Mogente was going to the Palacio Sarrion; for he passed the great door of the archbishop's dwelling, and was already looking towards the house of the Sarrions, when a slight sound made him turn on his heels with the rapidity of one whose life had been passed amid dangers and more especially those that come from behind.
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