And then they saw standing before them the man they had freed. And
he bowed to Rodriguez like one that had never bowed before. I do
not mean that he bowed with awkwardness, like imitative men unused
to politeness, but he bowed as the oak bows to the woodman; he
stood straight, looking Rodriguez in the eyes, then he bowed as
though he had let his spirit break, which allowed him to bow to
never a man before. Thus, if my pen has been able dimly to tell of
it, thus bowed the man in the old leathern jacket. And Rodriguez
bowed to him in answer with the elegance that they that had dwelt
at Arguento Harez had slowly drawn from the ages.
"Senor, your name," said the stranger.
"Lord of Arguento Harez," said Rodriguez.
"Senor," he said, "being a busy man, I have seldom time to pray.
And the blessed Saints, being more busy than I, I think seldom
hear my prayers: yet your name shall go up to them. I will often
tell it them quietly in the forest, and not on their holy days
when bells are ringing and loud prayers fill Heaven. It may be ..."
"Senor," Rodriguez said, "I profoundly thank you."
Even in these days, when bullets are often thicker than prayers,
we are not quite thankless for the prayers of others: in those
days they were what "closing quotations" are on the Stock
Exchange, ink in Fleet Street, machinery in the Midlands; common
but valued; and Rodriguez' thanks were sincere.
And now that the curses of the ungagged one of la Garda were
growing monotonous, Rodriguez turned to Morano.
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