He fell silent, adding no comment of any sort, as if he waited to hear what of my own accord I might have to urge. But my mind was incapable of travelling beyond the fact that I was to go out into the world to-morrow.
The circumstance that I should become a monk was no departure from the idea to which I had been trained, although explicitly no more than my mere priesthood had been spoken of. So I lay there without thinking of any words in which to answer him.
Gervasio considered me steadily, and sighed a little. “Agostino,” he said presently, “you are upon the eve of taking a great step, a step whose import you may never fully have considered. I have been your tutor, and your rearing has been my charge. That charge I have faithfully carried out as was ordained me, but not as I would have carried it out had I been free to follow my heart and my conscience in the matter.
“The idea of your ultimate priesthood has been so fostered in your mind that you may well have come to believe that to be a priest is your own inherent desire. I would have you consider it well now that the time approaches for a step which is irrevocable.”
His words and his manner startled me alike.
“How?” I cried. “Do you say that it might be better if I did not seek ordination? What better can the world offer than the priesthood? Have you not, yourself, taught me that it is man's noblest calling?”
“To be a good priest, fulfilling all the teachings of the Master, becoming in your turn His mouthpiece, living a life of self-abnegation, of self-sacrifice and purity,” he answered slowly, “that is the noblest thing a man can be. But to be a bad priest--there are other ways of being damned less hurtful to the Church.”
“To be a bad priest?” quoth I. “Is it possible to be a bad priest?”
“It is not only possible, my son, but in these days it is very frequent. Many men, Agostino, enter the Church out of motives of self-seeking. Through such as these Rome has come to be spoken of as the Necropolis of the Living. Others, Agostino--and these are men most worthy of pity--enter the Church because they are driven to it in youth by ill-advised parents. I would not have you one of these, my son.”
I stared at him, my amazement ever growing. “Do you... do you think I am in danger of it?” I asked.