my good fellow."

The mendicant sighed and threw down the bag.

"Must I always be the same?" said he, "and shall I never succeed in
overcoming the old leaven? Oh, misery, oh, vanity!"

"You take it, however."

"Yes, but I make hereby a vow in your presence, to employ all that
remains to me in pious works."

His face was pale and drawn, like that of a man who had just undergone
some inward struggle.

"Singular man!" muttered Gondy, taking his hat to go away; but on
turning around he saw the beggar between him and the door. His first
idea was that this man intended to do him some harm, but on the contrary
he saw him fall on his knees before him with his hands clasped.

"Your blessing, your holiness, before you go, I beseech you!" he cried.

"Your holiness!" said Gondy; "my friend, you take me for some one else."

"No, your holiness, I take you for what you are, that is to say, the
coadjutor; I recognized you at the first glance."

Gondy smiled. "And you want my blessing?" he said.

"Yes, I have need of it."

The mendicant uttered these words in a tone of such humility, such
earnest repentance, that Gondy placed his hand upon him and gave him his
benediction with all the unction of which he was capable.

"Now," said Gondy, "there is a communion between us. I have blessed you
and you are sacred to me. Come, have you committed some crime, pursued
by human justice, from which I can protect you?"

The beggar shook his head. "The crime which I have committed, my lord,
has no call upon human justice, and you can only deliver me from it by
blessing me frequently, as you have just done."

"Come, be candid," said the coadjutor, "you have not all your life
followed the trade which you do now?"

"No, my lord. I have pursued it for six years only."

"And previously, where were you?"

"In the Bastile."

"And before you went to the Bastile?"

"I will tell you, my lord, on the day when you are willing to hear my
confession."

"Good! At whatsoever hour of the day or night you may present yourself,
remember that I shall be ready to give you absolution."

"Thank you, my lord," said the mendicant in a hoarse voice. "But I am
not yet ready to receive it."

"Very well. Adieu."

"Adieu, your holiness," said the mendicant, opening the door and bending
low before the prelate.

47. The Riot.

It was about eleven o'clock at night. Gondy had not walked a hundred
steps ere he perceived the strange change wh