As he moves to the door, the chapel
bell rings out again, and with a sudden inspiration he halts.
"Senior Commandante, can I see the priest?" he asks.
"What for?" sharply demands the officer.
"I am a Catholic, and would like to talk to him."
Don Miguel Peralta gazes in wonder. "A Gringo and a Catholic! I
will tell him to see you."
Valois is reconducted to his abode. He leaves a puzzled Commandante,
who cannot believe that any despised "Gringo" can be of the true
faith. He has only seen the down-east hide traders, who are regarded
as heathen by the orthodox Dons of the Pacific.
Don Miguel knows not that the mariners from Salem and the whalers
of New England hold different religious views from the impassioned
Creoles of the Crescent City.
The prisoner's eye catches the black robe of the priest fluttering
among the rose walks of the garden. Walking with him is a lady,
while a pretty girl of seven or eight years plays in the shady
bowers.
The sergeant gruffly fulfils the orders of his chief. Maxime is
given the articles needed for his immediate use. He fears now, at
least, a long captivity, but a war may bring his doom suddenly on
him.
There is an air of authority in Miguel Peralta's eye, which is
a guarantee of honor, as well as a personal menace.
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