“Then I will leave open the door,” said the man, “and you can come up when you will.”
Kate sat on a seat under a big tree. A creeping plant, with great snake-like cords and big sulphur-and-brown trumpet flowers, hung above. She listened to the singing. It was Ramón, teaching one of the singers.
Ramón had not a very good voice. He sang quietly, as if to the inner air, with very beautiful, simple expression. But Kate could not catch the words.
“Ya?” said Ramón, when he had finished.
“Ya, Patrón!” said the man, the singer.
And he began, in his strong, pure voice that caught at the very bowels, to sing another of the Hymns.
“My way is not thy way, and thine is not mine.
But come, before we part
Let us separately go to the Morning Star,
And meet there.