"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.
"All is well with me!" he said, pressing the hand of Manuel in his own,
and releasing it again, "Do not fret, Angela,--it was the merest
passing faintness. Forgive me, brother, for alarming you thus
foolishly! As for the letter from the Vatican concerning this miracle,
I must needs present myself before His Holiness and assure him that I
know nothing of it,--that I did no more than pray--that I left the
crippled child still crippled--and that if indeed it be true he is
healed, it is by the merciful act of God and--the intervention of our
Lord and Saviour Christ, to Whom be all the praise and glory!"
He rose up again from his chair and stood full height,--a grand and
beautiful figure of noble old age, transfigured by the light of some
never-aging thought, some glorious inspiration. And Angela, who had
been startled and alarmed by his sudden fainting fit, was even more
overcome by the sight of him thus radiant and selfpossessed, and
dropping on her knees she caught his hand and kissed it, her tears
falling fast. He stooped and raised her.
"Child, why are you weeping?" he said tenderly, "Nay, I am not so ill
as you think me! I am well--strong!--ready for the doing of many things
in my Master's service! Pietro, take this dear girl and comfort her!"
and he put her gently into her father's arms,--"For myself, I have work
to do--work to do!--" he repeated musingly,--"I see trouble ahead!--but
I shall face it--and if God please--overcome it!" His, eyes flashed,
and after a moment he resumed, "I will write to Gherardi now--and
to-morrow--to-morrow I will speak!"
"Can I help you, brother?" asked the Prince, taken out of himself by
the air of splendour and sovereignty which seemed to surround the
Cardinal as with a divine halo, "You are fatigued with your
journey,--let me write for you!"
"No, Pietro! I must do this myself, and think well of all I should
say." He paused, then added, "They tell me Claude Cazeau, secretary to
the Archbishop of Rouen brought the news of this so-called miracle to
Rome. I should have liked to have seen that man to-night."
"You will see him at the Vatican," said Sovrani. with a touch of irony,
"That will be time enough! Oh, innocent Felix! Do you not see you will
be confronted with Cazeau? And that Gherardi and his set will be there
to note your every look and gesture, and privately judge as to whether
you and the Archbishop of Rouen concocted the miracle between you! And
that if you were to see this Cazeau to-night, that very meeting would
be taken as a sign of conspiracy!"
Over the pale features of the Cardinal rushed a warm glow of
indignation, but it died away as rapidly as it had come.
"True!" he said simply, "I forgot! If a good deed is done in the world
by the force of the undefined Spirit of Christ, it is judged as
trickery,--and we must never forget that even the Resurrection of our
Blessed Lord from the dead is believed by some to be a mere matter of
conspiracy among His disciples. True--I forgot the blindness,--the
melancholy blindness of the world! But we must always say, 'Father
forgive them, for they know not what they do!' I will write to
Gherardi,--and,--if you will permit me, I will remain in my own rooms
tonight for I must think and pray,--I must be alone . . ."
"Without me, my lord Cardinal?" asked Manuel softly.
"No, not without you!" and Bonpre looked at him with a smile, "Not
without you! I have no wish to be so much alone as your absence would
make me. Come!"
And lifting the heavy velvet portiere at the door, he held it back for
his "foundling" to pass,--and then slowly followed.