“Monseigneur,” said the Tourainian to him while he was spelling out the order, “you will not get rid of the Bishop of Coire so easily as you have got rid of me, for he has as many abbeys as the soldiers have drinking shops in the town; besides, he is in the favour of his lord.  Now I fancy to show you my gratitude for this so fine Abbey I owe you good piece of advice.  You know how fatal has been and how rapidly spread this terrible pestilence which has cruelly harassed Paris.  Tell him that you have just left the bedside of your old friend the Archbishop of Bordeaux; thus you will make him scutter away like straw before a whirl-wind.

“Oh, oh!” cried the cardinal, “thou meritest more than an abbey.  Ah, Ventredieu! my young friend, here are 100 golden crowns for thy journey to the Abbey of Turpenay, which I won yesterday at cards, and of which I make you a free gift.”

Hearing these words, and seeing Philippe de Mala disappear without giving her the amorous glances she expected, the beautiful Imperia, puffing like a dolphin, denounced all the cowardice of the priest.  She was not then a sufficiently good Catholic to pardon her lover deceiving her, by not knowing how to die for her pleasure.  Thus the death of Philippe was foreshadowed in the viper’s glance she cast at him to insult him, which glance pleased the cardinal much, for the wily Italian saw he would soon get his abbey back again.  The Touranian, heeding not the brewing storm avoided it by walking out silently with his ears down, like a wet dog being kicked out of a Church.  Madame drew a sigh from her heart.  She must have had her own ideas of humanity for the little value she held in it.  The fire which possessed her had mounted to her head, and scintillated in rays about her, and there was good reason for it, for this was the first time that she had been humbugged by priest.  Then the cardinal smiled, believing it was all to his advantage:  was not he a cunning fellow?  Yes, he was the possessor of a red hat.

“Ah, ah! my friend,” said he to the Bishop, “I congratulate myself on being in your company, and I am glad to have been able to get rid of that little wretch unworthy of Madame, the more so as if you had gone near him, my lovely and amiable creature, you would have perished miserably through the deed of a simple priest.”

“Ah!  How?”

“He is the secretary of the Archbishop of Bordeaux.  The good man was seized this morning with the pestilence.”

The bishop opened his mouth wide enough to swallow a Dutch cheese.

“How do you know that?” asked he.

“Ah!” said the cardinal, taking the good German’s hand, “I have just administered to him, and consoled him; at this moment the holy man has a fair wind to waft him to paradise.”