Death Comes for the Archbishop by Willa Cather, 1927
Traveling with Eusabio was like travelling with the landscape made human. He accepted chance and weather as the country did, with a sort of grave enjoyment. He talked little, ate little, slept anywhere, preserved a countenance open and warm, and like Jacintohe had unfailing good manners. The Bishop was rather surprised that he stopped so often by the way to gather flowers. One morning he came back with the mules, holding a bunch of crimson flowers-long, tube-shaped bells, that hung lightly from one side of a naked stem and trembled in the wind.
“The Indians call these rainbow flowers.” p. 232
No one but Molny and the Bishop had ever seemed to enjoy the beautiful site of that building-perhaps no one ever would…Seen from this distance, the Cathedral lay against the pine-splashed slopes as against a curtain. When Bernard drove slowly nearer, the backbone of the hills sank gradually, and the towers rose clear into the blue air, while the body of the church still lay against the mountain…
“Setting,” Molny used to tell Father Latour, “is accident. Either a building is part of a place, or it is not. Once that kinship is there, time will only make it stronger.” p. 270