but for the glory of the order."

"What a loss, what a catastrophe for us all!" murmured the physician.

"It is the loss of one man--nothing more," replied the Franciscan, "for
Heaven will enable the poor monk, who is about to leave you, to find
a worthy successor. Adieu, Monsieur Grisart; already even, through the
goodness of Heaven, I have met with you. A physician who had not been
one of our holy order, would have left me in ignorance of my condition;
and, confident that existence would be prolonged a few days further, I
should not have taken the necessary precautions. You are a learned man,
Monsieur Grisart, and that confers an honor upon us all; it would have
been repugnant to my feelings to have found one of our order of little
standing in his profession. Adieu, Monsieur Grisart; send me the cordial
immediately."

"Give me your blessing, at least, monseigneur."

"In my mind, I do; go, go; in my mind, I do so, I tell you--_animo_,
Maitre Grisart, _viribus impossibile_." And he again fell back on the
armchair, in an almost senseless state. M. Grisart hesitated, whether
he should give him immediate assistance, or should run to prepare the
cordial he had promised. He decided in favor of the cordial, for he
darted out of the room and disappeared down the staircase. [6]

Chapter LIII. The State Secret.

A few moments after the doctor's departure, the confessor arrived. He
had hardly crossed the threshold of the door when the Franciscan fixed
a penetrating look upon him, and, shaking his head, murmured--"A weak
mind, I see; may Heaven forgive me if I die without the help of this
living piece of human infirmity." The confessor, on his side, regarded
the dying man with astonishment, almost with terror. He had never beheld
eyes so burningly bright at the very moment they were about to close,
nor looks so terrible at the moment they were about to be quenched in
death. The Franciscan made a rapid and imperious movement of his hand.
"Sit down, there, my father," he said, "and listen to me." The Jesuit
confessor, a good priest, a recently initiated member of the order,
who had merely seen the beginning of its mysteries, yielded to the
superiority assumed by the penitent.

"There are several persons staying in this hotel," continued the
Franciscan.

"But," inquired the Jesuit, "I thought I had been summoned to listen to
a confession. Is your remark, then, a confession?"

"Why do you ask?"

"In order to know whet