“A pretty fancy,” said the Cardinal smiling, “And, as not even a thought is wasted, who knows if it might not prove true?”

“Surely the beautiful must be the true always!” said Manuel.

“Not so, my child,—­a fair face may hide an evil soul.”

“But only for a little while,” answered the boy, “The evil soul must leave its impress on the face in time, if life lasts long enough.”

“That is quite possible,” said Bonpre, “In fact, I think it often happens,—­only there are some people who simulate the outward show of goodness and purity perfectly, while inwardly ’they are as ravening wolves,’ and they never seem to drop the mask.  Others again—­” Here he paused and looked anxiously at his young companion, “I wonder what you will be like when you grow up, Manuel!”

“But if I never grow up, what then?” asked Manuel with a smile.

“Never grow up?  You mean—­”

“I mean if I die,” said Manuel, “or pass through what is called dying before I grow up?”

“God forbid!” said the Cardinal gently, “I would have you live—­”

“But why,” persisted Manuel, “since death is a better life?”

Bonpre looked at him wistfully.

“But if you grow up and are good and great, you may be wanted in the world,” he said.

An expression of deep pain swept like a shadow across the boy’s fair open brow.

“Oh no!” he said quietly, “the world does not want me!  And yet I love the world—­not because it is a world, for there are millions upon millions of worlds,—­they are as numerous as flowers in a garden—­but because it is a sorrowful world,—­a mistaken world,—­and because all the creatures in it have something of God in them.  Yes, I love the world!—­but the world does not love me.”

He spoke in a tone of gentle pathos, with the resigned and patient air of one who feels the burden of solitude and the sense of miscomprehension.  And closing the Testament he held he rested his clasped hands upon it, and for a moment seemed lost in sorrowful reverie.

“I love you,” said the Cardinal tenderly, “And I will take care of you as well as I can.”

Manuel looked up at him.

“And that will be well indeed, my lord Cardinal!” he said softly, “And you serve a Master who will hereafter say to you, remembering your goodness,—­’Verily, in asmuch as ye have done it unto the least of my brethren ye have done it unto Me.’”

He smiled; and the Cardinal meeting his glance wondered whether it was the strong level light of the sinking sun through the window-pane that made such a glory shine upon his face, and gave such a brilliancy to his deep and steadfast eyes.

XI.