ning
toward false doctrines, my young friend; you will be lost."

"You will be lost," said the curate, shaking his head sorrowfully.

"You approach that famous point of free will which is a mortal rock. You
face the insinuations of the Pelagians and the semi-Pelagians."

"But, my Reverend-" replied Aramis, a little amazed by the shower of
arguments that poured upon his head.

"How will you prove," continued the Jesuit, without allowing him time
to speak, "that we ought to regret the world when we offer ourselves to
God? Listen to this dilemma: God is God, and the world is the devil. To
regret the world is to regret the devil; that is my conclusion."

"And that is mine also," said the curate.

"But, for heaven's sake-" resumed Aramis.

"DESIDERAS DIABOLUM, unhappy man!" cried the Jesuit.

"He regrets the devil! Ah, my young friend," added the curate, groaning,
"do not regret the devil, I implore you!"

D'Artagnan felt himself bewildered. It seemed to him as though he were
in a madhouse, and was becoming as mad as those he saw. He was, however,
forced to hold his tongue from not comprehending half the language they
employed.

"But listen to me, then," resumed Aramis with politeness mingled with
a little impatience. "I do not say I regret; no, I will never pronounce
that sentence, which would not be orthodox."

The Jesuit raised his hands toward heaven, and the curate did the same.

"No; but pray grant me that it is acting with an ill grace to offer
to the Lord only that with which we are perfectly disgusted! Don't you
think so, d'Artagnan?"

"I think so, indeed," cried he.

The Jesuit and the curate quite started from their chairs.

"This is the point of departure; it is a syllogism. The world is not
wanting in attractions. I quit the world; then I make a sacrifice. Now,
the Scripture says positively, 'Make a sacrifice unto the Lord.'"

"That is true," said his antagonists.

"And then," said Aramis, pinching his ear to make it red, as he rubbed
his hands to make them white, "and then I made a certain RONDEAU upon it
last year, which I showed to Monsieur Voiture, and that great man paid
me a thousand compliments."

"A RONDEAU!" said the Jesuit, disdainfully.

"A RONDEAU!" said the curate, mechanically.

"Repeat it! Repeat it!" cried d'Artagnan; "it will make a little
change."

"Not so, for it is religious," replied Aramis; "it is theology in
verse."

"The devil!" said d'Artagnan.

"Here it is,