“This means the priesthood.”
“Yes,” said Julie, “but don’t speak of that to Joseph.”
That evening at dinner, she said:
“Joseph, would you like to go to Rome to visit Father Cabello?”
The boy’s eyes lit up.
“Oh yes, it’s the dream of my life. And—I would like to go to Vienna, to see your people.”
Mr. Gonzola spoke quietly, his arm around the boy.
“Let me take him, Julie. I promise you there will be no influence. Our family has been split into different religious camps for generations; those who have remained true to their faith have made no effort to bring the others back. We do not proselytize. The missionary is unknown to us.”
Julie hesitated, looked at Floyd; it was a great responsibility. The boy was bending over eagerly watching his father, who decided quickly, as was his way in business. His theory was, when a man weighs the pros and cons of an enterprise, the difficulties grow so great that he generally ends in not undertaking it. He would give the boy his chance; he was old enough now to decide for himself.
“Go with Mr. Gonzola,” said Floyd.