The soldier, startled, but not forgetting his manners learned from boyhood, stood up and lifted his hand to take off his cap. It was already lying on the ground. “Good morning, Father,” he answered, “I did not choose the place, but stumbled on it by chance. It is pleasant enough, for I am very tired and have need of sleep.”
“No doubt,” said the priest. “I can see that you look weary, and I beg you to pardon me if I have interrupted your repose. But why do you say you came here 'by chance'? If you are a good Christian you know that nothing is by chance. All is ordered and designed by Providence.”
“So they told me in church long ago,” said the soldier coldly; “but now it does not seem so true—at least not with me.”
The first feeling of friendliness and respect into which he had been surprised was passing. He had fallen back into the mood of his journey—mistrust, secrecy, resentment.
The priest caught the tone. His gray eyes under their bushy brows looked kindly but searchingly at the soldier and smiled a little. He set down his bag and leaned on his stick. “Well,” he said, “I can tell you one thing, my son. At all events it was not chance that brought me here. I came with a purpose.”
The soldier started a little, stung by suspicion. “What then,” he cried, roughly, “were you looking for me? What do you know of me? What is this talk of chance and purpose?”
“Come, come,” said the priest, his smile spreading from his eyes to his lips, “do not be angry. I assure you that I know nothing of you whatever, not even your name nor why you are here. When I said that I came with a purpose I meant only that a certain thought, a wish, led me to this spot. Let us sit together awhile beside the spring and make better acquaintance.”
“I do not desire it,” said the soldier, with a frown.
“But you will not refuse it?” queried the priest gently. “It is not good to refuse the request of one old enough to be your father. Look, I have here some excellent tobacco and cigarette-papers. Let us sit down and smoke together. I will tell you who I am and the purpose that brought me here.”
The soldier yielded grudgingly, not knowing what else to do. They sat down on a mossy bank beside the spring, and while the blue smoke of their cigarettes went drifting under the little trees the priest began: