"You will come to the cathedral as of old?" Though voiced as a request, the words were a command.
"Let me stay here, I beg of you," pleaded the priest. "I am no longer young—"
"Age is not counted by years."
"I love it here and—"
But the Bishop raised his hand, and the priest was silent.
"You may stay for the present. That much I grant you."
But Monsignore's heart was too full for long silence, his fears too great. He spoke hurriedly, pleadingly.
"Will you not protect me?"
"I may not be able to protect you."
"I am tired, my dear Bishop—tired, but contented. Here is rest, and peace. And when they come back, you know I want to be near them. Let me stay."