with all my might.  Our reverses are preferable to success.  The Reformation has an object to gain in being attacked; do you hear me, dolt?  It cannot hurt us to be defeated, whereas Catholicism is at an end if we should win but a single battle.  Ha! what are my lieutenants?—­rags, wet rags instead of men! white-haired cravens! baptized apes!  O God, grant me ten years more of life!  If I die too soon the cause of true religion is lost in the hands of such boobies!  You are as great a fool as Antoine de Navarre!  Out of my sight!  Leave me; I want a better negotiator than you!  You are an ass, a popinjay, a poet!  Go and make your elegies and your acrostics, you trifler!  Hence!”

The pains of his body were absolutely overcome by the fire of his anger; even the gout subsided under this horrible excitement of his mind.  Calvin’s face flushed purple, like the sky before a storm.  His vast brow shone.  His eyes flamed.  He was no longer himself.  He gave way utterly to the species of epileptic motion, full of passion, which was common with him.  But in the very midst of it he was struck by the attitude of the two witnesses; then, as he caught the words of Chaudieu saying to de Beze, “The Burning Bush!” he sat down, was silent, and covered his face with his two hands, the knotted veins of which were throbbing in spite of their coarse texture.

Some minutes later, still shaken by this storm raised within him by the continence of his life, he said in a voice of emotion:—­

“My sins, which are many, cost me less trouble to subdue, than my impatience.  Oh, savage beast! shall I never vanquish you?” he cried, beating his breast.

“My dear master,” said de Beze, in a tender voice, taking Calvin’s hand and kissing it, “Jupiter thunders, but he knows how to smile.”

Calvin looked at his disciple with a softened eye and said:—­

“Understand me, my friends.”

“I understand that the pastors of peoples bear great burdens,” replied Theodore.  “You have a world upon your shoulders.”

“I have three martyrs,” said Chaudieu, whom the master’s outburst had rendered thoughtful, “on whom we can rely.  Stuart, who killed Minard, is at liberty—­”

“You are mistaken,” said Calvin, gently, smiling after the manner of great men who bring fair weather into their faces as though they were ashamed of the previous storm.  “I know human nature; a man may kill one president, but not two.”

“Is it absolutely necessary?” asked de Beze.

“Again!” exclaimed Calvin, his nostrils swelling.  “Come, leave me, you will drive me to fury.  Take my decision to the queen.  You, Chaudieu, go your way, and hold your flock together in Paris.  God guide you!  Dinah, light my friends to the door.”

“Will you not permit me to embrace you?” said Theodore, much moved.  “Who knows what may happen to us on the morrow?  We may be seized in spite of our safe-conduct.”