“Nay, there should be no trouble,” said Bonpre quietly, “Nothing has happened which should really cause me any perplexity—­on the contrary, events have arranged themselves so that there shall be no obstacle in the way of speaking my mind.  I have journeyed far from my diocese to study and to discover for myself the various phases of opinion on religious matters in these days, and I am steadily learning much as I go.  I regret nothing, and would have nothing altered,—­for I am perfectly confident that in all the things I meet, or may have to consider, my Master is my Guide.  All is well wherever we hear His Voice;—­all things work for the best when we are able to perceive His command clearly, and have strength and resolution enough to forsake our sins and follow Him.”

As he spoke, a tranquil smile brightened his venerable features, and seeing the fine small hand of Manuel resting on his chair, he laid his own wrinkled palm over it and clasped it tenderly.  Cyrillon Vergniaud, moved by a quick impulse, suddenly advanced towards him.

“Monseigneur,” he said, with unaffected deference, “You are much more than a Cardinal,—­you are a good and honest man!  And that you serve Christ purely is plainly evidenced in your look and bearing.  Do me one favour!  Extend your pardon to me for my almost committed crime of to-day,—­and give me your blessing!  I will try to be worthy of it!”

The Cardinal was silent for a few minutes looking at him earnestly.

“My blessing is of small value,” he said, “And yet I do not think you would ask it for mere mockery of an old man’s faith.  I should like,—­” here he paused—­then slowly went on again, “I should like to say a few words to you if I might—­to ask you one or two questions concerning yourself—­”

“Ask anything you please, Monseigneur,” replied Cyrillon, “I will answer you frankly and fully.  I have never had any mysteries in my life save one,—­that of my birth, which up till to day was a stigma and a drawback;—­but now, I feel I may be proud of my father.  A man who sacrifices his entire social reputation and position to make amends for a wrong done to the innocent is worthy of honour.”

“I grant it!” said the Cardinal, “But you yourself—­why have you made a name which is like a firebrand to start a conflagration of discord in Europe?—­why do you use your gifts of language and expression to awaken a national danger which even the strongest Government may find itself unable to stand against?  I do not blame you till I hear,—­till I know;—­but your writings,—­your appeals for truth in all things,—­are like loud clarion blasts which may awaken more evil than good.”