“Because,” returned the organist, endeavoring to repress the agitation which revealed itself in the pallor of his face—“because it is so old and poor; one cannot express one`s self on it satisfactorily.”
The archbishop withdrew, followed by his attendants. One after another the litters of the great fold disappeared in the windings of the neighboring streets. The group in the portico scattered. The sexton was locking up the doors, when two women were perceived, who had stopped to cross themselves and mutter a prayer, and who were now going on their way into Duenas Alley.
Dona Baltasara
“What would you have, my dear Dona Baltasara?” one was saying. “That`s the way I am. Every crazy person with his whim. The barefooted Capuchins might assure me that it was so, and I would not believe it. That man never played what we have heard. Why, I have heard him a thousand times in San Bartolome, his parish church; the priest had to send him away he was so poor a player. You felt like plugging your ears with cotton.
Why, all you need is to look at his face, and that is the mirror of the soul, they say. I remember, as if I was seeing him now, poor man—I remember Maese Perez`s face, nights like this, when he came down from the organ-loft, after having entranced the audience with his splendors. What a gracious smile! What a happy glow on his face! Old as he was, he seemed like an angel. But this creature came plunging down as if a dog were barking at him on the landing, and all the color of a dead man, while his—come, dear Dona Baltasara, believe me, and believe what I say: there is some great mystery about this.”
Thus conversing, the two women turned the corner of the alley, 11 nd disappeared. There is no need of saying who one of them was.
Another year had gone by. The abbess of the Convent of Santa In6s and Maese Perez`s daughter were talking in a low voice, half hidden in the shadows of the church choir. The penetrating voice of the bell was summoning the faithful. A very few people were passing through the portico, silent and deserted, this year, and after taking holy water at ihc door, were choosing seats in a corner of the nave, where a handful Of residents of the neighborhood were quietly waiting for the Christmas vc mass to begin.
Read More about Maese Pfirez the Organist part 7
