“Well!—­perhaps the religious sects in England are responsible for the general feeling of depression in the English atmosphere,” said the Abbe with a light laugh, “They are certainly foggy!  The one round Sun of one Creed is unknown to them.  I assure you it is best to have one light of faith, even though it be only a magic lantern,- -a toy to amuse the children of this brief life before their everlasting bedtime comes—­” He broke off abruptly as a slow step was heard approaching along the passage, and in another moment Cardinal Bonpre entered the room.

“Ah, le bien aime Felix!” cried Vergniaud, hastening to meet him and clasp his outstretched hand, bowing slightly over it as he did so, “I have taken the liberty to wait for you, cher Monseigneur, being anxious to see you—­and I understand your stay in Paris will not be long?”

“A few days at most, my dear Abbe",—­replied the Cardinal, gently pressing the hand of Vergniaud and smiling kindly.  “You are well?  But surely I need not ask—­you seem to be in the best of health and spirits.”

“Ah, my seeming is always excellent,” returned the Abbe, “However, I do not fare badly.  I have thrown away all hard thinking!”

“And you are happier so?”

“Well, I am not quite sure!  There is undoubtedly a pleasure in analysing the perplexities of one’s own mind.  Still, on the whole, it is perhaps better to enjoy the present hour without any thought at all.”

“Like the butterflies!” laughed Angela.

“Yes,—­if butterflies do enjoy their hour,—­which I am not at all prepared to admit.  In my opinion they are very dissatisfied creatures,—­no sooner on one flower than off they go to another.  Very like human beings after all!  But I imagine they never worry themselves with philosophical or religious questions.”

“And do you?” enquired Bonpre, smiling, as he sat down in the easy chair his niece placed for him.

“Not as a rule!—­” answered Vergniaud frankly, with a light laugh—­ “But I confess I have done a little in that way lately.  Some of the new sciences puzzle me,—­I am surprised to find how closely they approach to the fulfilment of old prophecies.  One is almost inclined to believe that there must be a next world and a future life.”

“I think such belief is now placed beyond mere inclination,” said the Cardinal—­“There is surely no doubt of it.”

Vergniaud gave him a quick side-glance of earnest scrutiny.

“With you, perhaps not—­” he replied—­“But with me,—­well!—­it is a different matter.  However, it is really no use worrying one’s self with the question of ‘To be, or not to be.’  It drove Hamlet mad, just as the knotty point as to whether Hamlet himself was fat or lean nearly killed our hysterical little boy, Catullus Mendes.  It’s best to leave eternal subjects like God and Shakespeare alone.”

He laughed again, but the Cardinal did not smile.