Ramón rose and went to the window to look out at the lake. The drums on the church were sounding for mid-day, when every man should glance at the sun, and stand silent with a little prayer.
“The sun has climbed the hill, the day is on the downward slope.
Between the morning and the afternoon, stand I here with my soul, and lift it up.
My soul is heavy with sunshine, and steeped with strength.
The sunbeams have filled me like a honeycomb,
It is the moment of fulness,
And the top of the morning.”
Ramón turned and repeated the Mid-day verse to his boys. They listened in confused silence.
“Come!” he said. “Why are you confused? If I talked to you about your new boots, or ten pesos, you would not be confused. But if I speak of the sun and your own souls filled from the sun like honeycombs, you sulk. You had better go back to your school in America, to learn to be business men. You had better say to everybody: Oh, no! we have no father! Our mother died, but we never had a father. We are children of an immaculate conception, so we should make excellent business men.”
“I shall be a priest,” said Cyprian.