“Is that something new?” said the padre, eagerly.
The young man gave an exclamation. “The whole world is ringing with it,” he said.
“But Santa Ysabel del Mar is a long way from the whole world,” said Padre Ignazio.
“Indeed it would not appear to be so,” returned young Gaston. “I think the Comedie Francaise must be round the corner.”
A thrill went through the priest at the theatre's name. “And have you been long in America?” he asked.
“Why, always—except two years of foreign travel after college.”
“An American!” said the surprised padre, with perhaps a flavor of disappointment in his voice. “But no Americans who have yet come this way have been—have been”—he veiled the too blunt expression of his thought—“have been familiar with 'The Huguenots,'” he finished, making a slight bow.
Villere took his under-meaning. “I come from New Orleans,” he returned. “And in New Orleans there live many of us who can recognize a—who can recognize good music wherever we meet it.” And he made a slight bow in his turn.
The padre laughed outright with pleasure, and laid his hand upon the young man's arm. “You have no intention of going away tomorrow, I trust?” said he.
“With your leave,” answered Gaston, “I will have such an intention no longer.”