"Ay, verily, and that is what I can and do expect. But not, as you seem to fear, to the lad's hurt. Here, in our Spain, it is not easy just now to set him on his feet. But if you will give him some commission to your son—nay, be calm and hear me out—if you will do that for the comfort of his mother, I will furnish him clothes and a fair purse, and trust me, I will also find means some way to smuggle him on board one of the ships, now fitting out in the southern port of Cadiz to carry the Commendador to Hispaniola. That is my scheme; many a good hour that I might have enjoyed in sleep have I bestowed upon it, and now you are going to aid me to carry it through."
"Never!" exclaimed Master Pedro, excitedly; "never, never! Not for all the maravedis that ever fell into the coffers of the Holy Office will I help thee to help one who inherits its suspicions. Dost hear me, neighbour Sancho?—I say, never!"
"Ay, ay, I hear thee," calmly replied the individual addressed. "I heard thee say that same 'never' in my dreams two days ago, and answered thee with 'ever.' Now I hear thee say it actually with thy lips, and still I answer it with 'ever.' But take another taste of the wine, friend Pedro; fill thy glass again, if but to see the mingling of the colours, and draw in thy chair closer to the warmth. No need to neglect the comforts of the body because thy mind is perturbed."
"Ah!" growled the other. "Thou hast well put into words the doctrine of thy life, I warrant me."
Master Sancho laughed.
"And if so, neither words nor doctrine, can any say, have served me shabbily. If it should so fall out in the future that even in this world I must suffer for my sins, or for other folks' caprices, nevertheless in the past my face hath had its share of rejoicing in the sunshine of its own smiles."
"It is in the sunshine of the smiles of others," retorted the spice-dealer, "that most men would fain be able to rejoice."
"Ay, even so, and that is where most men fall into error," was the calm reply. "Comfort from the smiles of others is like the fleeting comfort a sick beggar gets from the glow of another man's fire. A healthy man has the abiding glow in his own veins, and he carries it about with him where he goes. Thus is it when the spring of smiles is within thine own heart, man, and thou art led to accept gratefully blessings as they fall to thy hand."
The spice-merchant's eyes opened somewhat roundly as he heard this short philosophical-sounding speech, so very unlike his jovial neighbour's ordinary conversation, but before he could utter the sarcastic words of surprise hovering on his tongue, he was recalled to his recent anxieties by his friend continuing in a more earnest tone:
"And thus, as I like to grasp at the blessings as they come—the blessings of good fire, good friends, good food; good fun—so I can even open my hand wide enough to take hold of another sort of blessings, when they are thrust upon me so plainly that I can but see they are being offered. Do you mind the text upon which Father Ignatius preached to us on Christmas Day?"