Oh, those uncontrollable circumstances!  How convenient they are!  And what a weak creature they make of man, who at other times than those of temptation, is wont to assert himself master of this planet!  Master of a planet and cannot control a vice!  Excellent!  Well,—­I never, as I say, thought of the wrong I had done,—­but if I forgot it, some One or some Thing remembered it!  Yes—­remembered it!—­put it down—­chronicled it with precision as to time and place,—­and set it, a breathing fact, before me in my old age,—­a living witness of my own treachery.”

He paused, the congregation stirred,—­the actor Miraudin looked up at him with a surprised half-smile.  Angela Sovrani lifted her beautiful violet eyes towards him in amazed compassion,—­Cardinal Bonpre, recalling the Abbe previous confession to him, bent his head, deeply moved.

“Treachery,” resumed Vergniaud determinedly, “Is always a covert thing.  We betray each other in the dark, with silent foot-steps and sibilant voices.  We whisper our lies.  We concoct our intrigues with carefully closed doors.  I did so.  I was a priest of the Roman Church as I am now; it would never have done for a priest to be a social sinner!  I therefore took every precaution to hide my fault;—­but out of my lie springs a living condemnation; from my carefully concealed hypocrisy comes a blazonry of truth, and from my secret sin comes an open vengeance . . .”

At the last words the loud report of a pistol sounded through the building . . . there was a puff of smoke, a gleam of flame, and a bullet whizzed straight at the head of the preacher!  The congregation rose, en masse, uttering exclamations of terror,—­but before anyone could know exactly what had happened the smoke cleared, and the Abbe Vergniaud was seen leaning against the steps of the pulpit, pale but uninjured, and in front of him stood the boy Manuel with arms outstretched, and a smile on his face.  The bullet had split the pulpit immediately above him.  An excited group assembled round them immediately, and the Abbe was the first to speak.

“I am not hurt!—­” he said quickly—­“See to the boy!  He sprang in front of me and saved my life.”

But Manuel was equally unhurt, and waived aside all enquiries and compliments.  And while eager questions were poured out and answered, a couple of gendarmes were seen struggling in the centre of the church with a man who seemed to have the power of a demon, so fierce and frantic were his efforts to escape.

“Ah, voila!  The assassin!” cried Miraudin, hastening to give assistance.

“The assassin!” echoed a dozen other persons pressing in the same direction.

Vergniaud heard, and gave one swift glance at Cardinal Bonpre who, though startled by the rapidity and excitement of the scene that had occurred, was equal to the occasion, and understood his friend’s appeal at once, even before he said hurriedly,

“Monseigneur!  Tell them to let him go!—­or—­bring him face to face with me!”