The boy flung his arms around his father; “I will do what is right!”
“I’m sure you will, my boy,” answered Floyd. At that moment he caught sight of Julie’s face reflected in the mirror; it was lit by a quick flash of joy.
3
When Father Cabello received a letter from Julie informing him Joseph had sailed with a Gonzola, he proceeded at once to counteract any possible “baleful” influence. He communicated with the Catholic members of the family in Vienna, hinting that the boy was destined for the church. This branch of the Gonzolas were devout Catholics, generations old; they welcomed Joseph affectionately and brought him as early as possible to Rome. There he remained for some time, a member of Father Cabello’s household, coming and going at will. The priest watched, waited; the mind of the boy was not yet ripe for decision.
Joseph was dazzled with his first glimpse of the Pagan City—its remains of Hellenic civilization; the pomp and splendor of its churches; the Cardinals in their decaying palaces, clinging to the traditions of the Past; the art of the great Masters, those faithful servants of the Church, with their wonderful portrayal of legendary religion. The unearthly beauty of their divine types, fired the boy’s imagination, stimulated him like rich wine, tasted for the first time, taken again in long draughts until his senses reeled. The people fascinated him with their magnetism, their emotional sensuality, their worship of women, symbolized in the Blessed Virgin and Child; their passions—jealousy, hate, revenge, repentance. He roamed day after day through the streets, sat for hours in the churches listening to the chanting of the priests, with a pleasant sense of drowsiness, like the after effects of a narcotic. He followed the processions of monks, pilgrims, peasants, into churches, away from churches, sprinkling with holy water, kissing burnt pieces of sacred wood—and always that music! Oh! that music! swelling in waves of overpowering sadness from the throats of unsexed men—the terrible sweetness of it, sucking him down into the waters of oblivion, of self-deception; the soul in safety, interceded for, the load of personal responsibility fallen away, care-free on earth, secure of Heaven, an unutterable sense of rest from that torturing brain which keeps persecuting with its unceasing cry, “Think while ’tis day, for the night cometh when no man can think.”
In moments of realization, he would say to the priest, “Father, I am going to Vienna; I must go.” The priest did not keep him back. The boy must live through the inevitable experience of intoxication, reaction, submission. He was travelling smoothly; he would arrive safely.
4
When Joseph went from Rome to Vienna to visit the Gonzolas, he was in a state of mental unrest and indecision. The artist in him shrank from activity. He was very sensitive; he couldn’t bear pain, disappointment. The Church would be a shelter from the materialism of the world. It would be ideal to work for the poor. The garb of piety appealed to his imagination—a priest walking among the wretched, the persecuted, the unhappy, giving everything, his material wealth, himself, living a simple contemplative life. The beauty of it all still remained with him, keeping him in a semi-intoxicated emotional state. He thought of the works of immortal art created in the quiet of the cloister. He was sorely tempted, not by the flesh like St. Anthony, but by the spirit and the longing for release from a leaden sense of responsibility.
“If not that, what?” He saw nothing for him in the future. His father had at least the satisfaction of success. He himself had created his capital. It was a game, like racing, roulette, politics—a game, life a game! what else? what else?—It was all so ugly; the yearning for beauty came again, he was sorely tempted....
Mr. Gonzola’s wife and three daughters were models of domesticated womanhood. Their home was very modern, with just enough of the idealism of religion to give it spiritual charm. The girls were well educated, practical women, keenly alive to the responsibility of their wealth, full of enthusiasm and hope for the future of the world. They received Joseph with great cordiality, helped him perfect his German, and were silently sympathetic toward his unsettled spiritual condition of mind.