There was a pause.  Then Manuel added,—­

“That is what you said, my lord Cardinal;—­and when the child went away, you told him that if the giving of your own life could make him strong, he should have that life willingly.  Some people might say that without meaning it,—­but you meant what you said,—­every word came straight from your heart.  And should it then surprise you that God has granted your prayer?”

Prince Sovrani listened to the dulcet young voice with a strange emotion.  Something holy and convincing seemed to emanate from the boy’s very presence, and though he, as became a modern Italian, was thoroughly sceptical and atheistical, and would have willingly argued against the very words of Christ as written in the Gospel, some curious hesitation that was almost shamefacedness held him silent.  But the Cardinal was even more strongly moved.  The earnest spirit of truth with which Manuel appeared always to be environed,—­ his simple and straight enunciation of the old, oft-quoted phrases used by the Divine Saviour of the world,—­and then his unfaltering memory of the simple prayer that had been said for the comfort of the unfortunate little Fabien Doucet, together with this strange and unexpected announcement of the child’s miraculous cure,—­these things rushed over the mind of the good Bonpre like an overwhelming flood, and confused his brain—­strange half-formed thoughts occurred to him that he dared not express, chief among which was a vague, a terrifying idea that the young boy beside him who spoke so sweetly, and almost so commandingly, must surely be an Angel!  Strange legends of the Church began to recur to him;—­legends of old-time when angels had descended to walk with priests in their monastic seclusion, and instruct them as to the value of time, as in the “Legend Beautiful,” when the monk Felix, being perplexed by the phrase “a day with God is as a thousand years,” went to sleep in a garden, soothed by the singing of the birds at sunset, and woke up to find that in his slumber a century had rolled away!  All manner of fantastic notions swept in upon him, and he grew suddenly blind and dizzy—­rising from his chair totteringly he extended his hands—­then suddenly sank back again in a dead faint.  Sovrani caught him as he fell—­and Angela ran for water, and tenderly bathed his forehead while Manuel took his hand and held it fast.

“Too long a journey, and too much excitement!” said the Prince,—­ “Our Felix is growing old,—­he cannot stand fatigue.  He is failing fast!”

“Oh, no,” said Manuel brightly, “He is not failing!  He is younger by far than he seems!  He is too strong to fail!”

And as he spoke the Cardinal opened his eyes and smiled with an expression of perfect rapture.

“Why, what has ailed me?” he enquired, looking at Angela’s anxious face, “I had but gone for a moment into the presence of my Lord!” Here he paused, and then gradually recovering himself entirely, sat upright.