It took the young priest somewhat longer than it would have taken a man
of Northwick's own language and nation to perceive that his gentlemanly
decorum and grave repose of manner masked a complete ignorance of the
things that interest cultivated people, and that he was merely and
purely a business man, a figment of commercial civilization, with only
the crudest tastes and ambitions outside of the narrow circle of
money-making. He found that he had a pleasure in horses and cattle, and
from hints which Northwick let fall, regarding his life at home, that he
was fond of having a farm and a conservatory with rare plants. But the
flowers were possessions, not passions; he did not speak of them as if
they afforded him any artistic or scientific delight. The young priest
learned that he had put a good deal of money in pictures; but then the
pictures seemed to have become investments, and of the nature of stocks
and bonds. He found that this curious American did not care to read the
English books which Bird offered to lend him out of the little store of
gifts and accidents accumulated in the course of years from bountiful or
forgetful tourists; the books in French Père Étienne proposed to him,
Northwick said he did not know how to read. He showed no liking for
music, except a little for the singing of Bird's niece, Virginie, but
when the priest thought he might care to understand that she sang the
ballads which the first voyagers had brought from France into the
wilderness, or which had sprung out of the joy and sorrow of its hard
life, he saw that the fact said nothing to Northwick, and that it rather
embarrassed him. The American could not take part in any of those
discussions of abstract questions which the priest and the old woodsman
delighted in, and which they sometimes tried to make him share. He
apparently did not know what they meant. It was only when Père Étienne
gave him up as the creature of a civilization too ugly and arid to be
borne, that he began to love him as a brother; when he could make
nothing of Northwick's mind, he conceived the hope of saving his soul.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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