subdued the unregenerate man within him.
It was simply necessary that this son of his, this child of the wife he
had so adored, should appear with his laughing blue eyes, to make the
blood circulate so rapidly in his veins as if it would burst them, as he
seemed to think that the dead had been brought to life again. He struck
his breast, he sobbed bitterly in penitence, as he remembered that the
joys of married life and the ties springing therefrom were prohibited
to the priesthood. The good Abbe Cornille had spoken of all this to
Hubertine in a low voice and with trembling lips. Mysterious sounds had
been heard, and it was whispered that Monseigneur shut himself up
after twilight, and passed nights of combat, of tears and of cries, the
violence of which, although partly stifled by the hangings of his room,
yet frightened the members of his household. He thought that he had
forgotten; that he had conquered passion; but it reappeared with the
violence of a tempest, reminding him of the terrible man he had been
formerly--the bold adventurer, the descendant of brave, legendary
chieftains. Each evening on his knees he flayed his skin with haircloth,
he tried to banish the phantom of the regretted wife by calling from its
coffin the skeleton which must now be there. But she constantly appeared
before him, living, in the delicious freshness of youth, such as she
was when very young he had first met her and loved her with the devoted
affection of maturity. The torture then recommenced as keen and intense
as on the day after her death: he mourned her, he longed for her with
the same revolt against God Who had taken her from him; he was unable to
calm himself until the break of day, when quite exhausted by contempt of
himself and disgust of all the world. Oh! Divine love! When he went out
of his room Monseigneur resumed his severe attitude, his expression was
calm and haughty, and his face was only slightly pale. The morning
when Felicien had made his confession he listened to him without
interruption, controlling himself with so great an effort that not a
fibre of his body quivered, and he looked earnestly at him, distressed
beyond measure to see him, so young, so handsome, so eager, and so
like himself in this folly of impetuous love. It was no longer with
bitterness, but it was his absolute will, his hard duty to save his
son from the ills which had caused him so much suffering, and he would
destroy the passion in his child as