“I cannot agree with you,” said the Archbishop coldly.

“I do not expect to be agreed with”—­and Bonpre smiled a little—­“An opinion which excites no opposition at all is not worth having!  I am quite honest in my scruples, such as they are;—­I do not think we fit, as you say, the Church system to the needs of modern civilization.  On the contrary, we must fail in many ways to do this, else there would not be such a crying out for help and comfort as there is at present among all Christian peoples.  We no longer speak with a grand certainty as we ought to do.  We only offer vague hopes and dubious promises to those who thirst for the living waters of salvation and immortality,—­it is as if we did not feel sure enough of God ourselves to make others sure.  All this is wrong—­wrong!  It forebodes heavy punishment and disaster.  If I were younger, I could express perhaps my meaning more clearly,—­but as it is, my soul is weighted with unutterable thoughts,—­I would almost call them warnings,—­of some threatening evil; . . . and today—­only this afternoon—­when I sat for an hour in the Cathedral yonder and listened to the music of the great organ—­”

The Archbishop started.

“What did you say?”

The Cardinal repeated his words gently,—­

“I said that I sat in the Cathedral and listened to the music of the great organ—­”

“The great organ!” interrupted the Archbishop,—­“You must have been dreaming!  You could not possibly have heard the great organ,—­it is old and all out of gear;—­it is never used.  The only one we have for service just now is a much smaller instrument in the left-hand choir-chapel,—­but no person could have played even on that without the key.  And the key was unobtainable, as the organist is absent from the town to-day.”

The Cardinal looked completely bewildered.

“Are you quite sure of this?” he asked falteringly.

“Sure—­absolutely sure!” declared the Archbishop with a smile—­“No doubt you thought you heard music; overwrought nerves often play these tricks upon us.  And it is owing to this same cause that you are weary and dispirited, and that you take such a gloomy view of the social and religious outlook.  You are evidently out of health and unstrung;—­but after you have had sufficient rest and change, you will see things in quite a different aspect.  I will not for a moment believe that you could possibly be as unorthodox as your conversation would imply,—­it would be a total misconception of your true character,” and the Archbishop laughed softly.  “A total misconception,” he repeated,—­“Why, yes, of course it would be!  No Cardinal-Archbishop of Holy Mother Church could bring such accusations against its ministry as you would have suggested, unless he were afflicted by nervous depression, which, as we all know, has the uncomfortable effect of creating darkness even where all is light.  Do you stay long in Rouen?”

“No,” replied the Cardinal abstractedly, answering the question mechanically though his thoughts were far away—­“I leave for Paris to-morrow.”