Soon after breakfast the padre had his two mules saddled, and he and his guest set forth down the hills together to the shore. And beneath the spell and confidence of pleasant, slow riding, and the loveliness of everything, the young man talked freely of himself. “And, seriously,” said he, “if I missed nothing else at Santa Ysabel, I should long to hear the birds. At home our gardens are full of them, and one smells the jasmine, and they sing and sing! When our ship from the Isthmus put into San Diego, I decided to go on by land and see California. Then, after the first days, I began to miss something. All that beauty seemed empty, in a way. And suddenly I found it was the birds. For these little scampering quail are nothing. There seems a sort of death in the air where no birds ever sing.” “You will not find any birds at San Francisco,” said the padre. “I shall find life!” exclaimed Gaston. “And my fortune at the mines, I hope. I am not a bad fellow, father. You can easily guess all the things that I do. I have never, to my knowledge, harmed any one. I did not even try to kill my adversary in an affair of honor. I gave him a mere flesh wound, and by this time he must be quite recovered. He was my friend. But as he came between me--” Gaston stopped; and the padre, looking keenly at him, saw the violence that he had noticed in church pass like a flame over the young man's handsome face. “There's nothing dishonorable,” said Gaston, answering the priest's look. “I have not thought so, my son.” “I did what every gentleman would do,” said Gaston. “And that is often wrong!” cried the padre. “But I'm not your confessor.” “I've nothing to confess,” said Gaston, frankly. “I left New Orleans at once, and have travelled an innocent journey straight to you. And when I make my fortune I shall be in a position to return and--” “Claim the pressed flower!” put in the padre, laughing. “Ah, you remember how those things are!” said Gaston; and he laughed also and blushed. “Yes,” said the padre, looking at the anchored barkentine, “I remember how those things are.” And for a while the vessel and its cargo and the landed men and various business and conversations occupied them. But the freight for the mission once seen to, there was not much else to hang about here for. The barkentine was only a coaster like many others which now had begun to fill the sea a little more of late years, and presently host and guest were riding homeward. And guessing at the two men from their outsides, any one would have got them precisely wrong; for within the turbulent young figure of Gaston dwelt a spirit that could not be more at ease, while revolt was steadily smouldering beneath the schooled and placid mask of the padre.