ted on seeing the cavalier with the curate. The latter and the
coadjutor touched the brush with the tips of their fingers and made the
sign of the cross; the coadjutor threw a piece of money into the hat,
which was on the ground.

"Maillard," began the curate, "this gentleman and I have come to talk
with you a little."

"With me!" said the mendicant; "it is a great honor for a poor
distributor of holy water."

There was an ironical tone in his voice which he could not quite
disguise and which astonished the coadjutor.

"Yes," continued the curate, apparently accustomed to this tone, "yes,
we wish to know your opinion of the events of to-day and what you have
heard said by people going in and out of the church."

The mendicant shook his head.

"These are melancholy doings, your reverence, which always fall again
upon the poor. As to what is said, everybody is discontented, everybody
complains, but 'everybody' means 'nobody.'"

"Explain yourself, my good friend," said the coadjutor.

"I mean that all these cries, all these complaints, these curses,
produce nothing but storms and flashes and that is all; but the
lightning will not strike until there is a hand to guide it."

"My friend," said Gondy, "you seem to be a clever and a thoughtful man;
are you disposed to take a part in a little civil war, should we have
one, and put at the command of the leader, should we find one, your
personal influence and the influence you have acquired over your
comrades?"

"Yes, sir, provided this war were approved of by the church and would
advance the end I wish to attain--I mean, the remission of my sins."

"The war will not only be approved of, but directed by the church. As
for the remission of your sins, we have the archbishop of Paris, who has
the very greatest power at the court of Rome, and even the coadjutor,
who possesses some plenary indulgences; we will recommend you to him."

"Consider, Maillard," said the curate, "that I have recommended you
to this gentleman, who is a powerful lord, and that I have made myself
responsible for you."

"I know, monsieur le cure," said the beggar, "that you have always been
very kind to me, and therefore I, in my turn, will be serviceable to
you."

"And do you think your power as great with the fraternity as monsieur le
cure told me it was just now?"

"I think they have some esteem for me," said the mendicant with pride,
"and that not only will they obey me, but wherever I go