Short stories, American; United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
Naturally Pancha never was likely to think very seriously of loving
Pedro; yet pity for him, acting on her gentle heart, had made her in
some sort his friend. It was not altogether his fault that he was an
officer of the _contraresguardo_, and other people besides Pancha
believed that but for this blight upon him a good career might have
been his. But luck had been against Pedro from the very day of his
birth; for when he was born his mother died, and a little later his
father died also. Being thus left lonely in the world, he fell into
the keeping of his uncle, Padre Juan, a grim priest who, having lost
all happiness in life himself, saw little reason why he should seek to
make the lives of others glad. Dismally the boy grew up in this
narrow, cheerless home. The Padre fain would have made of him a priest
also; but against this fate Pedro rebelled, and accepted, while yet a
boy, the alternative means of livelihood that his uncle offered him in
the service of the _contraresguardo_.
As his rebellion against his proposed induction into the priesthood
showed, the boy had strong stuff in him. He had a mighty will of his
own. And there was this in common between him and his grim uncle: a
stern resolve, when duty was clear, to do duty and nothing else.
Therefore it came to pass that Pedro, being entered into the hateful
service of the customs preventive force, presently was recognized by
his superiors as one of the very few men of the corps who, in all
ways, were trustworthy; and as trustworthiness is the rarest of
virtues in the _contraresguardo_,--a service so hated that usually
only men of poor spirit will enter it at all,--his constant loyalty
brought him quick promotion as its just reward. Yet Pedro had no
happiness in his advancement. Each step upward, as he very well knew,
was earned at the cost of greater hatred and contempt. Those who would
have been his friends, had the lines of his life fallen differently,
were his enemies. Nowhere could he hope to find kindliness and love.
Therefore he grew yet more stern and silent, and yet more earnestly
gave himself to the full discharge of the duty that was sacred to him
because it was his duty, but that in his heart he abhorred. Nor did he
ever waver in his faithfulness until, coming to know Pancha, his
chilled heart was warmed by her sweet looks of friendliness, the first
that ever he had known; and, as fate decreed, the force of duty found
arrayed against it the force of love.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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