e known how to pay for the materials which repairs would
have necessitated. And so, since the modern world was hostile, since
religion was no longer sovereign, since men had changed, and one was
drifting into the unknown, amidst the hatred and indifference of new
generations, why not allow the old world to collapse in the stubborn,
motionless pride born of its ancient glory? Heroes alone died standing,
without relinquishing aught of their past, preserving the same faith
until their final gasp, beholding, with pain-fraught bravery and infinite
sadness, the slow last agony of their divinity. And the Cardinal's tall
figure, his pale, proud face, so full of sovereign despair and courage,
expressed that stubborn determination to perish beneath the ruins of the
old social edifice rather than change a single one of its stones.

Pierre was roused by a rustling of furtive steps, a little mouse-like
trot, which made him raise his head. A door in the wall had just opened,
and to his surprise there stood before him an abbe of some forty years,
fat and short, looking like an old maid in a black skirt, a very old maid
in fact, so numerous were the wrinkles on his flabby face. It was Abbe
Paparelli, the train-bearer and usher, and on seeing Pierre he was about
to question him, when Don Vigilio explained matters.

"Ah! very good, very good, Monsieur l'Abbe Froment. His Eminence will
condescend to receive you, but you must wait, you must wait."

Then, with his silent rolling walk, he returned to the second ante-room,
where he usually stationed himself.

Pierre did not like his face--the face of an old female devotee, whitened
by celibacy, and ravaged by stern observance of the rites; and so, as Don
Vigilio--his head weary and his hands burning with fever--had not resumed
his work, the young man ventured to question him. Oh! Abbe Paparelli, he
was a man of the liveliest faith, who from simple humility remained in a
modest post in his Eminence's service. On the other hand, his Eminence
was pleased to reward him for his devotion by occasionally condescending
to listen to his advice.

As Don Vigilio spoke, a faint gleam of irony, a kind of veiled anger
appeared in his ardent eyes. However, he continued to examine Pierre, and
gradually seemed reassured, appreciating the evident frankness of this
foreigner who could hardly belong to any clique. And so he ended by
departing somewhat from his continual sickly distrust, and even engaged
in a