THE DRAGON PAINTER
"But does your master" began the priest, in some perplexity.
Mata cut him short. "Because he can smear ink on paper with a brush, my master dotes on him and says he will adopt him!"
The woman's fierce sincerity transmitted vague alarm. Slipping his hands within his gray sleeves, the acolyte began fingering his short rosary as he asked, "Is the—wild man now under this very roof?"
"Not under a roof when he can escape it, you may be sure! He comes to us only when driven by hunger of the stomach or the eyes. Doubtless at this moment he wallows among the ferns and sa-sa grass of the mountain side, or lies face down in the cemetery near my mistress' grave. He is mad, my master is mad, and Miss Umè, if she really gives herself in marriage to the mountain lion, madder than all the rest!"
"That beautiful maiden whom I saw will be given to such a one?" asked the priest, in a startled way.
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