“Be not hasty with your thanks.  I have forgotten the purpose I had in mind when I gave you those pistoles.  Ah well, I will leave you with the illusion that it was an act of generosity.  And as I remember, you were a pitiful looking young beggar.”  Turning to Brother Jacques, the marquis said:  “Have I ever done you a service?”

“No, Monsieur le Marquis; you have never done me a service.”  There was a strange irony beneath the surface of these words.  Chaumonot did not notice it, but the marquis, who was a perfect judge of all those subtile phases of conversation, caught the jangling note; and it caused him to draw together his brows in a puzzled frown.

“Have I ever met you till now?” he asked.

“Not that I know of, Monsieur.”  The tone was gentle, respectful.

“There is something familiar about your face;” and the marquis stared into space; but he could not conjure up the memory he sought.  He had seen this handsome priestly face before.  Where?

Brother Jacques’s features were without definite expression.

Presently the marquis roused himself from the past.  “I received your letter in regard to funds.  How is it that you came to me?”

“You have gained the reputation of being liberal.”

“I have several reputations,” said the marquis dryly.  “But why should I give you a thousand livres?  That is a good many.”

“Oh, Monsieur, give what you like; only that sum was suggested by me because it is the exact amount needed in our work.”

“But I am out of sympathy with your projects and your religion, especially your religion.  I am neither a Catholic nor a Huguenot.  Religion which seeks political domination is not a religion, but a party.  And what are Catholicity and Huguenotism but political factions, with a different set of prayers?  Next to a homely woman, there is nothing I detest so much as politics.  I have no religion.”

“It would be a great joy,” said Chaumonot, “to bring about your conversion.”

“You have heard of Sisyphus, who was condemned eternally to roll a stone up a hill?  Well, Monsieur, that would be a simple task compared with an attempt to convert me to Catholicism.  I believe in three things:  life, pleasure, and death, because I know them to exist.”

“And pain, Monsieur?” said Brother Jacques softly.

“Ah well, and pain,” abstractedly.  “But as to Heaven and hell, bah!  Let some one prove to me that there exists a hereafter other than silence; I am not unreasonable.  People say that I am an infidel, an atheist.  I am simply a pagan, even more of a pagan than the Greeks, for they worshiped marble.  Above all things I am a logician; and logic can not feed upon suppositions; it must have facts.  Why should I be a Catholic, to exterminate all the Huguenots; a Huguenot, to annihilate all the Catholics?  No, no!  Let all live; let each man worship what he will and how.  There