The eyes of Don Martin, the young curate, fastened
themselves on Gabriel. They seemed to speak to
him and express the pleasure with which he heard his
words. The other listeners, silent and with bowed
heads, did not feel less the enchantment of those propositions
which sounded so audaciously in the restful and rank
atmosphere of the cloister. Don Antolin was the
only one who laughed, finding Gabriel’s ideas
quite charming but absolutely crazy It was getting
late and the sun had sunk below the roofs of the Cathedral.
Silver Stick’s niece called to them once again
from the door of her house.
“We are coming, child,” said the priest,
“but I have one thing first to say to this gentleman.”
And addressing himself to Luna, he continued:
“But, Hombre de Dios![1]—but I ought
not to call you that as you are so turbulent—you
think everything is out of joint. The Spanish
Church, worn out as you say, has become very poor,
and still you say this revolution is a very small
affair. What do you wish for? What is it
that you desire so that things might be settled?
Tell us your secret quickly and let us go, for the
cold is very sharp.”
[Footnote 1: Man of God.]
And he laughed again, looking at Gabriel with paternal
pity as though he were a child.
“My remedy!” exclaimed Gabriel, taking
no notice of the priest’s gesture. “I
have no remedy whatever, it is the progress of humanity
that alone offers one. All the nations on earth
have passed through the same evolutions; first of
all they were ruled by the sword, then by faith, and
now by science. We ourselves have been ruled by
warriors and priests, but now we tarry at the gate
of modern life, without the strength or wish to take
science by the hand, who is the only guide we could
have, hence our sad situation. Science is nowadays
in everything—in agriculture, in all manufactures,
in arts and crafts, in the culture and well-being
of the people; it is even in war. Spain still
lives far from the sun of science, at most she knows
a pale reflection, cold and feeble, that comes to
us from foreign countries. The failure of faith
has left us without strength, like those creatures
who, having suffered from a severe illness in their
youth, remain anaemic for ever, without possible recuperation,
condemned to premature old age.”
“Bah! Science!” said Silver Stick,
turning towards his house; “that is the eternal
cry of all the enemies of religion. There is no
better science than to love God and His works.
Good evening.”
“Very good evening, Don Antolin; but remember
this, we have not yet done with faith and the sword;
sometimes one directs us or the other drives us; but
of science, never a word, unless Spain has changed
in the last twenty-four hours.”
