And then, with a half smile: "There are many San Juans; there
is, in all the wide world, but one San Juan of the Bells. You would
not take our distinction from us? Now that you are to become of San
Juan you must, like the rest of us, take a pride in San Juan's bells.
Which you will do soon or late; perhaps just as soon as you come to
know something of their separate and collective histories."
"Tell her, John," suggested Mrs. Engle, again obviously anxious to
dispel the more lugubrious and tragic atmospheres of the evening with
any chance talk which might offer itself.
"Let her wait until Ignacio can tell her," laughed Engle. "No one else
can tell it so well, and certainly no one else has an equal pride or
even an equal right in the matter."
But, though he refused to take up the colorful theme of the biographies
of the Captain, the Dancer, Lolita, and the rest, John Engle began to
speak lightly upon an associated topic, first asking the girl if she
knew with what ceremony the old Western bells had been cast; when she
shook her head and while the slow throbbing beat of the Captain still
insisted through the night's silences, he explained that doubtless all
six of Ignacio Chavez's bells had taken form under the calm gaze of
high priests of old Spain. For legend had it that all six were from
their beginnings destined for the new missions to be scattered
broadcast throughout a new land, to ring out word of God to heathen
ears.
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