(REFECTORY, MISSION SAN GABRIEL, 1869) Good!—said the Padre,—believe me still, "Don Giovanni," or what you will, The type's eternal! We knew him here As Don Diego del Sud. I fear The story's no new one! Will you hear? One of those spirits you can't tell why God has permitted. Therein I Have the advantage, for I hold That wolves are sent to the purest fold, And we'd save the wolf if we'd get the lamb. You're no believer? Good! I am. Well, for some purpose, I grant you dim, The Don loved women, and they loved him. Each thought herself his LAST love! Worst, Many believed that they were his FIRST! And, such are these creatures since the Fall, The very doubt had a charm for all! You laugh! You are young, but I—indeed I have no patience... To proceed:— You saw, as you passed through the upper town, The Eucinal where the road goes down To San Felipe! There one morn They found Diego,—his mantle torn, And as many holes through his doublet's band As there were wronged husbands—you understand! "Dying," so said the gossips. "Dead" Was what the friars who found him said. May be. Quien sabe? Who else should know? It was a hundred years ago. There was a funeral. Small indeed— Private. What would you? To proceed:— Scarcely the year had flown. One night The Commandante awoke in fright, Hearing below his casement's bar The well-known twang of the Don's guitar; And rushed to the window, just to see His wife a-swoon on the balcony. One week later, Don Juan Ramirez Found his own daughter, the Dona Inez, Pale as a ghost, leaning out to hear The song of that phantom cavalier. Even Alcalde Pedro Blas Saw, it was said, through his niece's glass, The shade of Diego twice repass. What these gentlemen each confessed Heaven and the Church only knows. At best The case was a bad one. How to deal With Sin as a Ghost, they couldn't but feel Was an awful thing. Till a certain Fray Humbly offered to show the way. And the way was this. Did I say before That the Fray was a stranger? No, Senor? Strange! very strange! I should have said That the very week that the Don lay dead He came among us. Bread he broke Silent, nor ever to one he spoke. So he had vowed it! Below his brows His face was hidden. There are such vows! Strange! are they not? You do not use Snuff? A bad habit! Well, the views Of the Fray were these: that the penance done By the caballeros was right; but one Was due from the CAUSE, and that, in brief, Was Dona Dolores Gomez, chief, And Inez, Sanchicha, Concepcion, And Carmen,—well, half the girls in town On his tablets the Friar had written down. These were to come on a certain day And ask at the hands of the pious Fray For absolution. That done, small fear But the shade of Diego would disappear. They came; each knelt in her turn and place To the pious Fray with his hidden face And voiceless lips, and each again Took back her soul freed from spot or stain, Till the Dona Inez, with eyes downcast And a tear on their fringes, knelt her last. And then—perhaps that her voice was low From fear or from shame—the monks said so— But the Fray leaned forward, when, presto! all Were thrilled by a scream, and saw her fall Fainting beside the confessional. And so was the ghost of Diego laid As the Fray had said. Never more his shade Was seen at San Gabriel's Mission. Eh! The girl interests you? I dare say! "Nothing," said she, when they brought her to— "Only a faintness!" They spoke more true Who said 'twas a stubborn soul. But then— Women are women, and men are men! So, to return. As I said before, Having got the wolf, by the same high law We saved the lamb in the wolf's own jaw, And that's my moral. The tale, I fear, But poorly told. Yet it strikes me here Is stuff for a moral. What's your view? You smile, Don Pancho. Ah! that's like you!
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