At the door of the Church of St. Francis he had stretched himself up with
good-natured pride, for he was by nature gregarious and friendly, but
with a temper quick and strong, and even savage when roused; though
Michelin the lumber-king did not know that when he engaged him as boss,
having seen him only at the one critical time, when his superior brain
and will saw its chance to command, and had no personal interest in the
strife. He had been a miracle of coolness then, and his six-foot-two of
pride and muscle was taking natural tribute at the door of the Church of
St. Francis, where he waited till nearly everyone had entered, and Father
Roche's voice could be heard in the Mass.
Then had happened the real event of his life: a blackeyed, rose-checked
girl went by with her mother, hurrying in to Mass. As she passed him
their eyes met, and his blood leapt in his veins. He had never seen her
before, and, in a sense, he had never seen any woman before. He had
danced with many a one, and kissed a few in the old days among the
flax-beaters, at the harvesting, in the gaieties of a wedding, and also
down in Massachusetts. That, however, was a different thing, which he
forgot an hour after; but this was the beginning of the world for him;
for he knew now, of a sudden, what life was, what home meant, why "old
folks" slaved for their children, and mothers wept when girls married or
sons went away from home to bigger things; why in there, in at Mass, so
many were praying for all the people, and thinking only of one.
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