The song had ended, and the padre was lifting up his giant's voice.

To Rudolph, the words had been mere sound and fury, but for a compelling honesty that needed no translation.

This man was not preaching to heathen, but talking to men.

His eyes had the look of one who speaks earnestly of matters close at hand, direct, and simple.

Along the forms, another and another man forgot to plait his queue, or squirm, or suck laboriously at his pipe.