"
The two men seemed for a moment uncertain what to do.
Then Zindorf addressed my father.
"Pendleton," he said, "the fortunes of life change, and the ideas
suited to one status are ridiculous in another. Ordez was a
fool. He made believe to this girl a future that he never
intended, and she is under the glamor of these fancies."
He stood in the posture of a monk, and he spoke each word with a
clear enunciation.
"It is a very delicate affair, to bring this girl out of the
extravagances with which Ordez filled her idle head, and not be
brutal in it. We must conduct the thing with tact, and we will
ask you, Pendleton, to observe the courtesies of our pretension."
When he had finished, he flung a door open and went down a
stairway. For a time my father heard his footsteps, echoing,
like those of a priest in the under chambers of a chapel. Then
he ascended, and my father was astonished.
He came with a young girl on his arm, as in the ceremony of
marriage sometimes the priest emerges with the bride. The girl
was young and of a Spanish beauty. She was all in white with
blossoms in her hair. And she was radiant, my father said, as in
the glory of some happy contemplation.
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