“Monseigneur, the evil is not of my making,—­it exists!” replied Cyrillon, “My name, my writings,—­are only as a spark from the huge smouldering fire of religious discontent in the world.  If it were not my name it would be another’s.  If I did not write or speak, someone else would write and speak—­perhaps better—­perhaps not so well.  At any rate I am sincere in my convictions, and write from the fulness of the heart.  I do not care for money—­I make none at all by literature,—­but I earn enough by my labour in the fields to keep me in food and lodging.  I have no desire for fame,—­except in so far as my name may serve as an encouragement and help to others.  If you care to hear my story—­”

“I should appreciate your confidence greatly,” said the Cardinal earnestly, “The Fates have made you a leading spirit of the time,—­ it would interest me to know your thoughts and theories.  But if you would prefer not to speak—­”

“I generally prefer not to speak,” replied Cyrillon, “But to-day is one of open confession,—­and I think too that it is sometimes advisable for men of the Church to understand and enter into the minds of those who are outside the Church,—­who will have no Church,—­not from disobedience or insubordination, but simply because they do not find God or Christ in that institution as it at present exists.  And nowadays we are seeking for God strenuously and passionately!  We have found Him too in places where the Church assured us He was not and could not be.”

“Is there any portion of life where God is not?” asked Manuel gently.

Cyrillon’s dark eyes softened as he met the boy’s glance.

“No, dear child!—­truly there is not,—­but the priests do nothing to maintain or to prove that,” he replied; “and the more the world lifts itself higher and higher into the light, the more we shall perceive God, and the less we will permit anything to intervene between ourselves and Him.  But you are too young to understand—­”

“No, not at all too young to understand!” answered Manuel, “Not at all too young to understand that God is love, and pardon, and patience;—­and that wheresoever men are intolerant, uncharitable, and bigoted, there they straightway depart from God and know Him not at all.”

“Truly that is how I understand Christianity,” said Cyrillon, “But for so simple and plain a perception of duty one is called atheist and socialist, and one’s opinions are branded as dangerous to the community.  Truth is dangerous, I know—­but why?”

“Would that not take a century to explain?” said the silvery voice of the Princesse D’Agramont, who entered with Angela at that moment, and made her deep obeisance before the Cardinal, glancing inquisitively as she did so at Manuel who still stood resting against the prelate’s chair, “Pardon our abrupt appearance, Monseigneur, but Angela and I are moved by the spirit of curiosity!- -and if we are swept out of the Church like straws before the wind for