e quickly saw what
passed in my mind, and endeavoured to depict the life of the monastery
as a delicious existence, embellished by all the graces of literature,
and adorned by the pleasures of intellectual converse. Poetry, romance,
scenery, all were pressed into the service of his persuasions; but how
weak were such arguments to one like me, the boy whose only education
had been what the streets of Paris afforded--whose notions of eloquence
were formed on the insane ravings of 'The Mountain,' and whose idea of
greatness was centred in mere notoriety!

My dreamy look of inattention showed him again that he had failed; and I
could see, in the increased pallor of his face, the quivering motion of
his lip, the agitation the defeat was costing him.

'Alas! alas!' cried he passionately, 'the work of ruin is perfect; the
mind of youth is corrupted, and the fountain of virtue denied at the
very source. O Maurice, I had never thought this possible of thee, the
child of my heart!'

A burst of grief here overcame him; for some minutes he could not speak.
At last he arose from his seat, and wiping off the tears that covered
his cheeks with his robe, spoke, but in a voice whose full round tones
contrasted strongly with his former weak accents.

'The life I have pictured seems to thee ignoble and unworthy, boy. So
did it not appear to Chrysostom, to Origen, and to Augustine--to the
blessed saints of our Church, the eldest-born of Christianity. Be it so.
Thine, mayhap, is not the age, nor this the era, in which to hope for
better things. Thy heart yearns for heroic actions--thy spirit is set
upon high ambitions--be it so. I say, never was the time more fitting
for thee. The enemy is up; his armies are in the field; thousands and
tens of thousands swell the ranks, already flushed with victory. Be
a soldier, then. Ay, Maurice, buckle on the sword--the battlefield is
before thee. Thou hast made choice to seek the enemy in the far-away
countries of heathen darkness, or here in our own native France, where
his camp is already spread. If danger be the lure that tempts thee--if
to confront peril be thy wish--there is enough of it. Be a soldier,
then, and gird thee for the great battle that is at hand. Ay, boy, if
thou feelest within thee the proud darings that foreshadow success,
speak the word, and thou shalt be a standard-bearer in the very van.'

I waited not for more; but springing up, I clasped my arms around his
neck, and cried,