guide me to but one mode of dealing with them.'

'There is nothing in what you have told me of your life to make me
revere your principles,' said Gerald, with a courageous boldness.

'Because I have told you how I fell, and not how I was tempted; because
I have stooped to say of myself that which none dare say to my face;
because whatever I have been to the world it was that same world
fashioned me to. What would it avail me that I made out a case of
undeserving hardships and injustice, proved myself an injured, martyred
saint: would your wondering sympathy heal any the least of those wounds
that fester here, boy? Every man's course in life is but one swing of
the pendulum. I have vowed that with mine I shall cleave the dense mob
and scatter the vile multitude. As to you,' said he, suddenly turning
his glaring eyes upon the youth, 'you are free to leave this to-morrow.
I'll take care that you are safely restored to those you came from, if
you wish to return. If you prefer it, you may remain here for a month or
two; by that time I shall return.'

'Are you going, then, from this?' asked Gerald.

'Yes. I am on my trial at Aix, for cruelty and desertion of my wife.
They have spread a report that I have no intention to appear; that,
having fled France, I mean never to return to it. Ere the week's over
they shall learn their mistake. I shall be there before them; and, if
instances from the uses of court and courtiers are admissible, show,
that when they prove me guilty, they must be ready to include Versailles
in the next prosecution. Watch this case, boy; I'll send you the
newspapers daily. Watch it closely, and you 'll see that the file is at
work noiselessly now, but still at work on those old fetters that have
bound mankind so long. But first say if you desire to stay here.'

Gerald held down his head and muttered a half audible 'Yes.'

'To-night, then, I will jot down the names of certain books you ought
to read. I shall leave you many others too, and take your choice among
them. Read and think, and, if you are able, write too: I care not on
what theme, so the thoughts be your own.'

Gerald wished to thank him, but even gratitude could not surmount the
dread he felt for him. Gabriel saw the struggle that was engaged in the
boy's heart, and, smiling half sadly, said, 'To our next meeting, lad!'

CHAPTER XI. LAST DAYS AT THE TANA

If Gerald breathed more freely the next morning, on hearing that Signor
Gabrie