Everything in this novel is fiction, except the “stage” upon which it is set, i.e., the mid-18th century. There were no Hungarian Jesuits in Antigua California, and Carlos Galante, S.J., aka Charles Galántay, exists only in my imagination. However, the fact remains that many of the California Jesuit Missionaries were Central Europeans by birth and education. Not wishing to step on any national toes, I found it best to invent a Jesuit for the purposes of this novel. A biography of Fr. F. Consag would have been my preferred vehicle, since he was born in Varazdin on the Croatian-Hungarian border, and taught for a year or so in Budapest at my old school, the former Jesuit College. But the Croatians’ jealously guarded him, so I decided to abandon that idea. The purpose of this novel was not to slavishly copy the style of the 18th-century letters, and thereby attempt to create an artistic forgery. Instead, I meant to pay homage to the period and the people; in a minor key Serge Prokofiev’s Classical Symphony was my unattainable model. Everything in this novel is invented, including F.X. Allegre and Professor T. Szegépy, whose name is simply a modified anagram of my own. Yes, the Professor missed the fact that Lt. Matthew Galántay was killed in the early part of the Seven Year War. This was understandable, if a little careless. Unlike writers of fiction, who can invent to their heart’s delight, historians are supposed to check all their facts. Perhaps he couldn’t conceive of such sustained duplicity on the part of a Jesuit, i.e., to keep writing to a woman (!) all those years. Even to an educated and worldly woman like Mathilda (Math) Galantay, Matthew’s (Matt) twin sister. And, of course, in 18th century florid handwriting (it is easy to overlook the difference between “Matt” and “Math.” Those who read the novel in manuscript, at least some of them, expressed concern and dissatisfaction regarding the rather abrupt ending of the story. But for once, I stuck close to the truth, the “returnees,” i.e., the repatriated Jesuit missionaries generally faded into the background, and thereafter, the French Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars closed the curtain on the 18th century. As far as “criticizing” some of these eighteenth-century Jesuits for harboring far too modern views—I categorically disagree. Jesuits were often the conduit of advanced ideas into New Spain. Although I became very attached to Charles Galántay and his tough and determined “Cousinne,” I had to let them go off without prying into their affairs any further. Anything else would have required a second novel. And finally, I must apologize to the real Esterházy family for placing the protagonists of the novel in their ancient seat of Galánta. In order to prevent any confusion, I spelled our family’s name without the aristocratic th, i.e., “Galántha,” as the Esterházys do.