ul, by the
sword of Vengeance, thou pumpkin-head, do you not see the vigor given
to my Reform by the massacre at Amboise? Ideas never grow till they
are watered with blood. The slaying of the Duc de Guise will lead to a
horrible persecution, and I pray for it with all my might. Our reverses
are preferable to success. The Reformation has an object to gain in
being attacked; do you hear me, dolt? It cannot hurt us to be defeated,
whereas Catholicism is at an end if we should win but a single
battle. Ha! what are my lieutenants?--rags, wet rags instead of men!
white-haired cravens! baptized apes! O God, grant me ten years more of
life! If I die too soon the cause of true religion is lost in the hands
of such boobies! You are as great a fool as Antoine de Navarre! Out of
my sight! Leave me; I want a better negotiator than you! You are an ass,
a popinjay, a poet! Go and make your elegies and your acrostics, you
trifler! Hence!"

The pains of his body were absolutely overcome by the fire of his anger;
even the gout subsided under this horrible excitement of his mind.
Calvin's face flushed purple, like the sky before a storm. His vast brow
shone. His eyes flamed. He was no longer himself. He gave way utterly to
the species of epileptic motion, full of passion, which was common with
him. But in the very midst of it he was struck by the attitude of the
two witnesses; then, as he caught the words of Chaudieu saying to de
Beze, "The Burning Bush!" he sat down, was silent, and covered his face
with his two hands, the knotted veins of which were throbbing in spite
of their coarse texture.

Some minutes later, still shaken by this storm raised within him by the
continence of his life, he said in a voice of emotion:--

"My sins, which are many, cost me less trouble to subdue, than my
impatience. Oh, savage beast! shall I never vanquish you?" he cried,
beating his breast.

"My dear master," said de Beze, in a tender voice, taking Calvin's hand
and kissing it, "Jupiter thunders, but he knows how to smile."

Calvin looked at his disciple with a softened eye and said:--

"Understand me, my friends."

"I understand that the pastors of peoples bear great burdens," replied
Theodore. "You have a world upon your shoulders."

"I have three martyrs," said Chaudieu, whom the master's outburst had
rendered thoughtful, "on whom we can rely. Stuart, who killed Minard, is
at liberty--"

"You are mistaken," said Calvin, gently, smiling afte