"
The grave priest returns in half an hour. Hardin ponders uneasily.
The priest plays an unimpassioned part. "Madame de Santos will
receive Judge Hardin on his terms, with the condition, that if there
is any exciting difference, Judge Hardin will retire at once, and
not renew his proposals." Hardin accepts. Now for work.
Side by side, the new-made senator and the old priest walk across
the plaza. Success smiles on Hardin.
Local quid-nuncs mutter "Compromise," as they seek the spiritual
consolation of the Magnolia Saloon and Palace Varieties. Is there
to be no pistol practice after all?
Alas, these degenerate days! The camp has lost its glory. Betting
has been two to one that Colonel Joe Woods riddles the Judge before
the trial is over.
Now these bets will be off. A fraud on the innocent public. The
decadence of Mariposa.
Yet, Hardin is not easy. In the first struggle of his life with a
priest, Hardin feels himself no match for his passionless antagonist.
The waxen mask of the Church hides the inner soul of the man.
Only when Pere Francois turns his searching gaze on the Judge,
parrying every move, does the lawyer feel how the immobility of
the clergyman is proof against his wiles and professional ambushes.
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