Then, when
this same Spaniard is ready to load irons on Henry in a way that no
free-born man kin stand, in pops a priest who likes us--an' we don't
belong to his church either--an' puts a stop to the whole thing."
While they were talking Francisco Alvarez also was busy with a kindred
theme, as he entertained a guest. That guest was Father Montigny, to whom
he had made up his mind to be courteous, although he would not condescend
to any further apology. He ordered that the priest should receive food and
attention, and that men should look after and replenish his canoe which
was now tied in the bayou. After all these orders were given, Alvarez sat
in the great room of Beaulieu and smoked the cigarro of his time.
There was a bitter drop in the well of his satisfaction. The coming of the
priest had been unforeseen and unfortunate. He knew Father Montigny, and
Father Montigny knew him. Now how much did Father Montigny know of his
plans? That was the important question.
While he was yet speaking, Father Montigny, whom a very little of rest and
food always sufficed, entered the room, his manner full of austerity.
Francisco Alvarez rose, all blandness and courtesy.
"Be seated, Father," he said. "It is a poor place that we have here, but
we give you of our best.
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