m
his higher meditations. All that he could say was:

"Your benefactor, Richelieu?"

The Capuchin smiled, and, drawing nearer, continued in an undertone:

"Policy admits of no benefits; it contains nothing but interest. A man
employed by a minister is no more bound to be grateful than a horse
whose rider prefers him to others. My pace has been convenient to him;
so much the better. Now it is my interest to throw him from the saddle.
Yes, this man loves none but himself. I now see that he has deceived
me by continually retarding my elevation; but once again, I possess
the sure means for your escape in silence. I am the master here. I will
remove the men in whom he trusts, and replace them by others whom he
has condemned to die, and who are near at hand confined in the northern
tower--the Tour des Oubliettes, which overhangs the river. His creatures
will occupy their places. I will recommend a physician--an empyric who
is devoted to me--to the illustrious Cardinal, who has been given over
by the most scientific in Paris. If you will unite with me, he shall
convey to him a universal and eternal remedy."

"Away!" exclaimed Cinq-Mars. "Leave me, thou infernal monk! No, thou
art like no other man! Thou glidest with a noiseless and furtive step
through the darkness; thou traversest the walls to preside at secret
crimes; thou placest thyself between the hearts of lovers to separate
them eternally. Who art thou? Thou resemblest a tormented spirit of the
damned!"

"Romantic boy!" answered Joseph; "you would have possessed high
attainments had it not been for your false notions. There is perhaps
neither damnation nor soul. If the dead returned to complain of their
fate, I should have a thousand around me; and I have never seen any,
even in my dreams."

"Monster!" muttered Cinq-Mars.

"Words again!" said Joseph; "there is neither monster nor virtuous man.
You and De Thou, who pride yourselves on what you call virtue--you have
failed in causing the death of perhaps a hundred thousand men--at once
and in the broad daylight--for no end, while Richelieu and I have caused
the death of far fewer, one by one, and by night, to found a great
power. Would you remain pure and virtuous, you must not interfere with
other men; or, rather, it is more reasonable to see that which is, and
to say with me, it is possible that there is no such thing as a soul.
We are the sons of chance; but relative to other men, we have passions
which we mus