CHAPTER XXVII.

ABBE BALTHAZAR.

Though my wounds had not ceased their smarting nor my bones their aching my happiness was complete.  The splendid prospect before me, the glittering peaks of the Cordillera, the gleaming waters of the far Pacific, the gardens and fountains of San Cristobal, the charm of Angela’s presence, and the abbe’s conversation made me oblivious to the past and careless of the future.  The hardships and perils I had lately undergone, my weary wanderings in the wilderness, the dull monotony of the Happy Valley, the passage of the Andes, my terrible ride on the nandu, all were forgotten.  The contrast between my by-gone miseries and present surroundings added zest to my enjoyment.  I felt as one suddenly transported from Hades to Elysium, and it required an effort to realize that it was not all a dream, destined to end in a rude awaking.

After some talk about Europe, the revolt of the Spanish colonies, and my recent adventures, the abbe gave me an account of his life and adventures.  The scion of a noble French family, he had been first a page of honor at Versailles, then an officer of the garde du corps, and among the gayest of the gay.  But while yet a youth some terrible event on which he did not like to dwell—­a disastrous love affair, a duel in which he killed one who had been his friend—­wrought so radical a change in his character and his ideals that he resigned his commission, left the court, and joined the Society of Jesus, under the name of Balthazar.  Being a noble he became an abbe (though he had never an abbey) as a matter of course, and full of religious ardor and thirsting for distinction in his new calling he volunteered to go out as a missionary among the wild tribes of South America.

After long wanderings, and many hardships, Balthazar and two fellow priests accidentally discovered Quipai, at that time a mere collection of huts on the banks of a small stream which descended from the gorges of the Cordillera only to be lost in the sands of the desert.  But all around were remains which showed that Quipai had once been a place of importance and the seat of a large population—­ruined buildings of colossal dimensions, heaps of quarried stones, a cemetery rich in relics of silver and gold; and a great azequia, in many places still intact, had brought down water from the heart of the mountains for the irrigation of the rainless region of the coast.

Balthazar had moreover heard of the marvellous system of irrigation whereby the Incas had fertilized nearly the whole of the Peruvian desert; and as he surveyed the ruins he conceived the great idea of restoring the aqueduct and repeopling the neighboring waste.  To this task he devoted his life.  His first proceeding was to convert the Indians and found a mission, which he called San Cristobal de Quipai; his next to show them how to make the most of the water-privileges they already possessed.  A reservoir was built, more land brought under cultivation, and the oasis rendered capable of supporting a larger population.  The resulting prosperity and the abbe’s fame as a physician (he possessed a fair knowledge of medicine) drew other Indians to Quipai.