“No.  When I spoke to her about it, she said her priest was Jesus Christ the Righteous,—­and there was no other,—­the High-Priest.  She gave me her Bible.  See how it has been used!  ‘Search the Scriptures,’ she said.  She told me I was able to learn the truth.  ‘I loved your mother,’ she said; ’that is the reason I am so anxious you should know.  It is by my spirit, said the Lord.  Ask for that spirit,’ she said.  ’He is more willing to give than earthly parents are to give good gifts to their children.’  She said these things, Elsie.  If they are true, they must be better worth believing than all the riches of the world are worth the having.”

The interest manifested by the student in this conversation had been on the increase since Jacqueline began to speak of Antonine Dupre.  It was not, at this point of the conversation, waning.

“Your mother would not have agreed with Antonine,” said Elsie, as if there were weight in the argument;—­for such a girl as Jacqueline could not speak earnestly in the hearing of a girl like Elsie without result, and the result was at this time resistance.

“She believed what she was taught in Domremy,” answered Jacqueline, “She believed in Absolution, Extreme Unction, in the need of another priest than Jesus Christ,—­a representative they call it.”  She spoke slowly, as if interrogating each point of her speech.

“I believe as they believed before us,” answered Elsie, coldly.

“We have learned many things since we came to Meaux,” answered Jacqueline, with a patient gentleness, that indicated the perplexity and doubt with which the generous spirit was departing from the old dominion.  She was indeed departing, with that reverence for the past which is not incompatible with the highest hope for the future.  “Our Joan came from Domremy, where she must crown the king,” she continued.  “We have much to learn.”

“She lost her life,” said Elsie, with vehemence.

“Yes, she did lose her life,” Jacqueline quietly acquiesced.

“If she had known what must happen, would she have come?”

“Yes, she would have come.”

“How late it is!” said Elsie, as if in sleep were certain rest from these vexatious thoughts.

Victor Le Roy was by this time lost in his own reflections.  These girls had supplied an all-sufficient theme; whether they slept or wakened was no affair of his.  He had somewhat to argue for himself about extreme unction, priestly intervention, confession, absolution,—­something to say to himself about Leclerc, and the departed Antonine.

Late into the night he sat thinking of the marvel of Domremy and of Antonine Dupre, of Picardy and of Meaux, of priests and of the High-Priest.  Brave and aspiring, Victor Le Roy could not think of these things, involved in the names of things above specified, as more calculating, prudent spirits might have done.  It was his business, as a student, to ascertain what powers were working in the world.  All true characters, of past time or present, must be weighed and measured by him.  Result was what he aimed at.