He sat next to me at a Pasdeloup concert in the Cirque d'Hiver,
how many years ago I do not care to say. A casual exclamation betrayed
my nationality, and during the intermission we drifted into easy
conversation. Within five minutes he held me enthralled, did this
big-souled, large-brained Irishman from the County Tipperary. We
discussed the programme--a new symphonic poem by Rimski-Korsakoff,
Sadko, had been alternately hissed and cheered--and I soon learned that
my companion mourned a French mother and rejoiced in the loving presence
of a very Celtic father. From the former he must have inherited his
vigorous, logical intellect; the latter had evidently endowed him with a
robust, jovial temperament, coupled with a wonderful perception of
things mystical.
After the concert we walked slowly along the line of the boulevards. It
was early May, and the wheel of green which we traversed, together with
the brilliant picture made by the crowds, put us both in a happy temper.
It was not long before Monsignor heard the confession of my ideals.
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