omte," said the cardinal; "what news have you?"

"Excellent news, as far as our family is concerned," said Henri. "Anne,
you know, has covered himself with glory in that retreat from Anvers,
and is alive."

"Heaven be praised! and are you too, Henri, safe and sound?"

"Yes, my brother."

"You see," said the cardinal, "that Heaven holds us in its keeping."

"I am so full of gratitude to Heaven, my brother, that I have formed the
project of dedicating myself to its service. I am come to talk seriously
to you upon this project, which is now well matured, and about which I
have already spoken to you."

"Do you still keep to that idea, Du Bouchage?" said the cardinal,
allowing a slight exclamation to escape him, which was indicative that
Joyeuse would have a struggle to encounter.

"I do."

"But it is impossible, Henri," returned the cardinal; "have you not been
told so already?"

"I have not listened to what others have said to me, my brother, because
a voice stronger than mine, which speaks within me, prevents me from
listening to anything which would turn me aside from my purpose."

"You cannot be so ignorant of the things of this world, Henri," said the
cardinal, in his most serious tone of voice, "to believe that the voice
you allude to was really that of Heaven; on the contrary--I assert it
positively, too--it is altogether a feeling of a worldly nature which
addresses you. Heaven has nothing to do in this affair; do not abuse
that holy name, therefore, and, above all, do not confound the voice of
Heaven with, that of earth."

"I do not confound, my brother; I only mean to say that something
irresistible in its nature hurries me toward retreat and solitude."

"So far, so good, Henri; we are now making use of proper expressions.
Well, my dear brother, I will tell you what is to be done. Taking what
you say for granted, I am going to render you the happiest of men."

"Thank you, oh! thank you, my brother."

"Listen to me, Henri. You must take money, a couple of attendants, and
travel through the whole of Europe, in a manner befitting a son of the
house to which we belong. You will see foreign countries; Tartary,
Russia, even the Laplanders, those fabulous nations whom the sun never
visits; you will become absorbed in your thoughts, until the devouring
germ which is at work in you becomes either extinct or satiated; and,
after that, you will return to us again."

Henri, who had been seated, now rose, mor