Argosy, Vol. 111, No. 1 — page 12: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

2 THE ARGOSY. find something more than imperfect ma- chines?” The man of the north drew from a pocket of his robe a letter. His marvelously lean fingers touched it almost with a-caress, and when he spoke the softening which could not appear in the rigid features came into his voice and made it lower and deeper. &¢ One.”’ Father Anthony started in astonishment, as one might start to hear a divine prophet admit a mistake, but being wise he re- mained silent, waiting. . Jean Paul Victor peered into space. “Pierre Ryder. He is like a pleasant summer, and I ’—he clasped his colorless hands—‘‘ am frozen—frozen to the heart.” Still Father Anthony waited, but his eyes were like diamonds for brightness. __ ‘““He shall carry on my mission in the north. I, who am silent, have done much; but Pierre sings, and he will do more. I had to fight my first battle to. conquer my own stubborn soul, and the battle left me weak for the great work in the snows, but Pierre will not fight that battle, for I have trained him.” . He repeated after a pause: ‘‘ For those who sing forget themselves and their weari- ness. I, Jean Paul Victor, have never sung.” He bowed his head, submitting to the judgment of God. “This letter is for him. Shall we not carry it to him? For two days I have not seen Pierre.” Father Anthony winced. He said: ‘“‘ Do you deny yourself even the pleasure of the lad’s company? Alas, Father Victor, you forge your own spurs and goad yourself with your own hands. What harm is there in being ‘often with the lad?” The sneer returned to the lips of Jean Paul Victor. “‘' The purpose would be lost—lost to my eyes and lost to his—the purpose for which I have lived and for which he shall live— the purpose to which you are dedicated, Gabrielle Antoine Anthony.” He relented in his fierceness, and con- tinued with the strange gentle note in his voice: ‘‘ Our love for the young, it is like a vine that climbs, through the branches of a strong tree. When the vine is young it may be taken away in safety and both the tree and the vine will live, but if it grows old it will kill the tree when the vine is torn away. ‘“T am the strong tree, and Pierre has grown into my heart. It is time that he be torn away. He is almost ready. The work is prepared. He-must start forth.” Even while he announced his purpose the sweat poured out on his forehead. He rose and paced noiselessly up and down the bare room, his black robe catching around the long, bony legs. Father Anthony drew a great breath. At last Jean Paul Victor could speak again. “In all the history of our order, there is hardly one man who will go out armed like Pierre Ryder. He is young, he is strong, he is fearless, he is pure of heart and single of mind. He has never tasted wine; he has never looked wrongly on a woman.” . ‘“‘ A prodigy—but it is your work.” ‘* Mine—all mine!” The whole soul of the man stood up in his eyes in a fierce triumph. ‘“Hear how I worked! When I first saw him he was a child, a baby, but he came to me and took one finger of my hand in his small fist and looked up to me. Ah, Gabrielle, the smile of an infant goes. to the heart swifter than the thrust of a knife! I looked down upon him and thought many things, and I knew that I was chosen to teach the child. There was a voice that spoke in me. You will smile, but even now I think I can hear it.” “TI swear to you that I believe,” said Father Anthony, and his voice trembled. ‘‘ Another man would have given Pierre a Bible and a Latin grammar and a cell. I gave him the testament and the grammar; I gave him also the wild north country to say his prayers in and patter his Latin. I taught his mind, but 1 did not forget his body. ‘He is to go out among wild men. He must have strength of the spirit. He must also have a strength of the body that they will understand and respect. he translate for them the truths of the How else can , GOMIIG OOO 6S (C©) im