nge now that his rival was no longer
there to see him. He staggered like an old tree smitten with the axe, and
sank upon a chair, stifling with sobs.

And as Pierre, according to usage, was about to stoop and kiss his ring,
he raised him and at once made him sit down, stammering in a halting
voice: "No, no, my dear son! Seat yourself there, wait--Excuse me, leave
me to myself for a moment, my heart is bursting."

He sobbed with his hands to his face, unable to master himself, unable to
drive back his grief with those yet vigorous fingers which were pressed
to his cheeks and temples.

Tears came into Pierre's eyes, for he also lived through all that woe
afresh, and was much upset by the weeping of that tall old man, that
saint and prince, usually so haughty, so fully master of himself, but now
only a poor, suffering, agonising man, as weak and as lost as a child.
However, although the young priest was likewise stifling with grief, he
desired to present his condolences, and sought for kindly words by which
he might soothe the other's despair. "I beg your Eminence to believe in
my profound grief," he said. "I have been overwhelmed with kindness here,
and desired at once to tell your Eminence how much that irreparable
loss--"

But with a brave gesture the Cardinal silenced him. "No, no, say nothing,
for mercy's sake say nothing!"

And silence reigned while he continued weeping, shaken by the struggle he
was waging, his efforts to regain sufficient strength to overcome
himself. At last he mastered his quiver and slowly uncovered his face,
which had again become calm, like that of a believer strong in his faith,
and submissive to the will of God. In refusing a miracle, in dealing so
hard a blow to that house, God had doubtless had His reasons, and he, the
Cardinal, one of God's ministers, one of the high dignitaries of His
terrestrial court, was in duty bound to bow to it. The silence lasted for
another moment, and then, in a voice which he managed to render natural
and cordial, Boccanera said: "You are leaving us, you are going back to
France to-morrow, are you not, my dear son?"

"Yes, I shall have the honour to take leave of your Eminence to-morrow,
again thanking your Eminence for your inexhaustible kindness."

"And you have learnt that the Congregation of the Index has condemned
your book, as was inevitable?"

"Yes, I obtained the signal favour of being received by his Holiness, and
in his presence made my submi