cellent passport to the presence of the treasurer.

"Father," said Croustillac, "I have a very important letter to place in
the hands of a good priest of the order of Preaching Brothers; I do not
know if he is alive or dead; if he is in Europe, or at the end of the
world; to whom should I address myself for information on this subject?"

"To one of our canons, my son, who has had much to do with missions, and
who, after long and painful apostolic labors, came six months since to
repose in a canonicate of our abbey."

"And when can I see this venerable canon, Father?"

"This very morning. In descending to the court of the cloister, ask a
lay brother to conduct you to Father Griffen."

Croustillac gave so tremendous a blow of his staff on the floor,
shouting three times his Muscovite exclamation, "hurrah! hurrah!
hurrah!" that the reverend treasurer was startled by it, and rang the
bell precipitately, thinking he had to do with a madman.

A friar entered.

"Pardon, good Father," said Croustillac; "these savage cries, and this
no less savage blow of the stick, paint to you the state of my soul, my
astonishment, my joy! It is Father Griffen, himself, that I seek."

"Then conduct this gentleman to Father Griffen," said the treasurer.

We will not attempt to depict this new recognition, so important in the
results the Gascon expected from it. We will only say that the good
priest, charged with the trust of Croustillac, and fearing lest the
chevalier should one day come to regret his disinterestedness, but
wishing, however, to execute till then his charitable intentions, and
not to deprive the unfortunate of this rich alms, had each year
distributed to the poor the revenue of the capital, which he reserved
for a pious foundation if the Gascon should not reappear.

The sale of the Unicorn, prudently managed, had brought about seven
hundred thousand livres. The Father, finding by chance an advantageous
sale of property in the environs of Abbeville, not far from the abbey of
St. Quentin, had profited by it. He had thus become proprietor of a very
fine estate called Chateauvieux.

On his return from his long voyages, six months before the time of which
we speak, Father Griffen had asked by preference, a canonicate in
Picardy, in order to be more within reach of the property which he
managed, always ignorant whether the Gascon was dead or alive, but
inclining rather to the former supposition, after a silence of eighteen