The story of a parish on the California coast, where Padre Ignacio, once a member of the gay world of Paris, has found "contentment in renunciation." The death of his beloved wife had led him into the priesthood and this out-of-the-way sheepfold.
nt. Since the year's beginning there had been no guest for him to bring into his rooms, or to sit beside him in the high seats at table, set apart for the gente fina.
Such another library was not then in California; and though Gaston Villere, in leaving Harvard College, had shut Horace and Sophocles for ever at the earliest instant possible under academic requirements, he knew the Greek and Latin names that he now saw as well as he knew those of Shakspere, Dante, Moliere, and Cervantes. These were here also; but it could not be precisely said of them, either, that they made a part of the young man's daily reading. As he surveyed the Padre's august shelves, it was with a touch of the histrionic Southern gravity which his Northern education had not wholly schooled out of him that he said:
"I fear I am no scholar, sir. But I know what writers every gentleman ought to respect."
The polished Padre bowed gravely to this compliment.
It was when his eyes caught sight of the music that the