of the Unicorn; he is a good and honest priest; if he still lives,
there must remain to him some of it, for he would have been prudent and
careful in his almsgiving. My advice would be to seek to know where the
Reverend Father is, for if the good God has willed that he should have
kept some good morsel from the Unicorn, own, my lord, that this would
not be bad eating at this moment; if not for you, at least, for these
two beautiful children, for my heart bleeds to see them with their
wooden shoes and their woolen hose, although they may keep their feet
warmer than boots of leather and gilded spurs, or shoes of satin with
silken hose, should they be red, these hose! red like those I wore in
1690," added the chevalier, with a sigh. Then he resumed: "Ah, well! my
lord, what say you to my Griffen idea?"

"I say, my friend, that it is an idle hope. Father Griffen is without
doubt dead; he will doubtless have left your fortune to some religious
community."

"To the Abbey of St. Quentin, perhaps," said Angela.

"Zounds! it wants but that! I would instantly set fire to the
monastery!"

"Ah--fie! fie! chevalier!" said Angela.

"It is also because I am raging at having done what I did with your two
hundred thousand crowns; but could I then imagine that I should find
again, as a farmer, the son of a king who handled his diamonds by the
shovelful? Ah, it is no use to philosophize here; but to find Father
Griffen again if he is still living!"

"And how to find him again?" said Monmouth.

"By seeking him, my lord. I who have no reason for concealing myself,
to-morrow I will take up this quest, hobbling around. Nothing is more
simple; in truth, I am stupid not to have thought of it sooner. I will
direct myself at once to the Superior of Foreign Missions, thus we shall
know what we have to look to. The Superior will at least inform me if
the good Father is alive or not; and even, on this account, I will
to-morrow make a visit to your neighbor, the abbot of St. Quentin. He
will tell me what to do about it--how to get this information. I will
carry him your hundred crowns; that will be a good way to contrive the
interview."

The three friends passed the day together. We leave the reader to
imagine the stories, the reminiscences, gay, touching, or sad, which
were recalled.

On the morrow Croustillac, who had already made friends with young
James, started for the abbey. The amount of the rent, in bright _louis
d'or_, was an ex