There were no means more certain to impart courage to Father Christopher than arrogance or pride. He had stood for a moment in some embarrassment, passing through his fingers the beads of the rosary that hung suspended from his girdle; but he soon “resumed new courage, and revived,” at the haughty air of Don Roderick. He had, however, sufficient command over himself to reply with caution and humility. “I come to supplicate you to perform an act of justice: some wicked persons have, in the name of your lordship, frightened a poor curate, and have endeavoured to prevent his fulfilling his duty towards an innocent and unoffending couple. You can by a word confound their machinations, and impart consolation to the afflicted. You can—and having it in your power—conscience, honour——”
“Speak to me of conscience, when I ask your advice on the subject; and as to my honour, know that I only am the guardian of it, and that whoever dares to meddle with it is a rash man.”
Friar Christopher, warned by these words that the intention of Don Roderick was to turn the conversation into a dispute, so as to win him from his original purpose, determined to bear whatever insult might be offered him, and meekly replied, “It was certainly not my intention to say any thing to displease you: correct me, reprove me; but deign to listen to me. By the love of Heaven, by that God before whom we must all appear, I charge thee, do not obstinately refuse to do justice to the innocent and oppressed! Think that God watches over them, that their imprecations are heard above, and——”
“Stop,” interrupted Don Roderick, rudely. “The respect I bear to your habit is great; but if any thing could make me forget it, it would be to see it worn by one coming as a spy into my house.”
These words spread an indignant glow over the face of the father; but swallowing them as a bitter medicine, he resumed: “You do not believe that I am such; you feel in your heart that I am here on no vile or contemptible errand. Listen to me, Signor Don Roderick; and Heaven grant that the day may never arrive, when you shall repent of not having listened to me! Listen to me, and perform this deed of justice and benevolence. Men will esteem you! God will esteem you! you have much in your power, but——”
“Do you know,” again interrupted Don Roderick with warmth, but with something like remorse, “that when the whim takes me to hear a sermon, I can go to church? But, perhaps,” continued he, with a forced smile of mockery, “you are putting regal dignity on me, and giving me a preacher in my own palace.”
“And to God princes are responsible for the reception of his messages; to God you are responsible; he now sends into your palace a message by one of his ministers, the most unworthy——”
“In short, father,” said Don Roderick, preparing to go, “I do not comprehend you: I suppose you have some affair of your own on hand; make a confidant of whom you please; but use not the freedom of troubling a gentleman any farther.”
“Don Roderick, do not say No to me; do not keep in anguish the heart of an innocent child! a word from you would be sufficient.”
“Well,” said Don Roderick, “since you think I have so much in my power, and since you are so much interested——”