“Because the impression has steadily gained upon me that if our Church were all it was originally intended to be by its Divine Founder, we should at this time have neither heresies or apostasies, and all the world would be gathered into the ’one fold under one Shepherd.’  But if we, who are its ministers, persist in occupying ourselves more with ‘things temporal’ than ‘things spiritual,’ we fail to perform our mission, or to show the example required of us, and we do not attract, so much as we repel.  The very children of the present day are beginning to doubt our calling and election.”

“Oh, of course there are, and always have been heretics and atheists,” said the Archbishop,—­“And apparently there always will be.”

“And I venture to maintain that it is our fault that heretics and atheists continue to exist,” replied the Cardinal; “If our Divine faith were lived divinely, there would be no room for heresy or atheism.  The Church itself supplies the loophole for apostasy.”

The Archbishop’s handsome face crimsoned.

“You amaze me by such an expression!” he said, raising his voice a little in the indignation he could scarcely conceal—­“you talk—­ pardon me—­as if you yourself were uncertain of the Church’s ability to withstand unbelief.”

“I speak but as I think,” answered the Cardinal gently.  And I admit I am uncertain.  In the leading points of reed I am very steadfastly convinced;—­namely, that Christ was divine, and that the following of His Gospel is the saving of the immortal soul.  But if you ask me whether I think we do truly follow that Gospel, I must own that I have doubts upon the matter.”

“An elected favourite son of the Church should surely have no doubts!” said the Archbishop.

“Ah, there you come back to the beginning from which we started, when I ventured to object to your term ‘prince of the Church.’  According to our Master, all men should be equal before Him; therefore we err in marking differences of rank or favoritism in questions of religion.  The very idea of rank is anti-Christian.”

At this the Archbishop began to look seriously annoyed.

“I am afraid you are indulging in very unorthodox ideas,” he said with impatience—­“In fact I consider you altogether mistake your calling and position.”

These were the words which had reached the attentive ears of the Patoux children on their way up to bed, and had caused Henri to declare that the Archbishop and the Cardinal were quarrelling.  Felix Bonpre took the somewhat violent remark, however, with perfect equanimity.