absence to conduct me to prison. I do not
know of what crime I am accused. But you will agree with me one must
pity Monsieur Colin, whose wits are so clouded he holds it a reproach
to an ecclesiastic not to have made display of his patriotism on the
10th August, the 2nd September, and the 31st May. A man capable of such
a notion is surely deserving of commiseration."

"_I_ am in the same plight, I have no certificate," observed Brotteaux.
"We are both suspects. But you are weary. To bed, Father. We will
discuss plans to-morrow for your safety."

He gave the mattress to his guest and kept the palliasse for himself;
but the monk in his humility demanded the latter with so much urgency
that his wish had to be complied with; otherwise he would have slept on
the boards.

These arrangements completed, Brotteaux blew out the candle both to save
tallow and as a wise precaution.

"Sir," the monk addressed him, "I am thankful for what you are doing for
me; but alas! it is of small moment to you whether I am grateful or no.
May God account your act meritorious! _That_ is of infinite concern for
you. But God pays no heed to what is not done for his glory and is
merely the outcome of purely natural virtue. Wherefore I beseech you,
sir, to do for Him what you were led to do for me."

"Father," answered Brotteaux, "never trouble yourself on this head and
do not think of gratitude. What I am doing now, the merit of which you
exaggerate,--is not done for any love of you; for indeed, albeit you are
a lovable man, Father, I know you too little to love you. Nor yet do I
act so for love of humanity; for I am not so simple as to think with
'Don Juan' that humanity has rights; indeed this prejudice, in a mind so
emancipated as his, grieves me. I do it out of that selfishness which
inspires mankind to perform all their deeds of generosity and
self-sacrifice, by making them recognize themselves in all who are
unfortunate, by disposing them to commiserate their own calamities in
the calamities of others and by inciting them to offer help to a mortal
resembling themselves in nature and destiny, so that they think they are
succouring themselves in succouring him. I do it also for lack of
anything better to do; for life is so desperately insipid we must find
distraction at any cost, and benevolence is an amusement, of a mawkish
sort, one indulges in for want of any more savoury; I do it out of pride
and to get an advantage over you; I do it,