"Easy, my son, easy. You would be a
fine target for bullets were your words to reach Hamilton's ears.
You are not permitted to revile your commander."
"Yes, I know; but how can a man restrain himself under such
abominable conditions?"
Father Beret shrewdly guessed that Hamilton had been giving the
Captain fresh reason for bitter resentment. Moreover, he was sure
that the moving cause had been Alice. So, in order to draw out
what he wished to hear, he said very gently:
"How is the little prisoner getting along?"
Farnsworth ground his teeth and swore; but Father Beret appeared
not to hear; he bit deep into a scone, took a liberal sip of the
muddy red wine and added:
"Has she a comfortable place? Do you think Governor Hamilton would
let me visit her?"
"It is horrible!" Farnsworth blurted. "She's penned up as if she
were a dangerous beast, the poor girl. And that damned scoundrel--
"
"Son, son!"
"Oh, it's no use to try, I can't help it, Father. The whelp--"
"We can converse more safely and intelligently if we avoid
profanity, and undue emotion, my son. Now, if you will quit
swearing, I will, and if you will be calm, so will I."
Farnsworth felt the sly irony of this absurdly vicarious
proposition. Father Beret smiled with a kindly twinkle in his
deep-set eyes.
"Well, if you don't use profane language, Father, there's no
telling how much you think in expletives.
Pages:
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315