PROLOGUE
“He is a parish priest, on the shores of Lake Ontario, in my diocese. I have watched his work for nine years. He is but thirty-five now. He came to us directly from the Seminary.”
“And his name is?”
"Jean Marie Latour.”
Maria de Allande, leaning back in his chair, put the tips of his long fingers together and regarded them thoughtfully.
“Of course, Father Ferrand, the Propaganda will almost certainly appoint to this Vicarate the man whom the Council at Baltimore recommends.”
“Ah yes, your Eminence; but a word from you to the Provincial Council, an inquiry, a suggestion———”
“Would have some weight, I admit,” replied the Cardinal smiling. “And this Latour is intelligent, you say? What a fate you are drawing upon him! But I suppose it is no worse than a life among the Hurons. My knowledge of your country is chiefly drawn from the romances of Fenimore Cooper, which I read in English with great pleasure. But has your priest a versatile intelligence? Any intelligence in matters of art, for example?”
“And what need would he have for that, Monsignor? Besides, he is from Auvergne.”
The three Cardinals broke into laughter and refilled their glasses. They were all becoming restive under the monotonous persistence of the missionary.
9
