customs,'"
he said, and again reading Calvert's thoughts so accurately that that
young gentleman scarce knew whether to be most astonished or indignant.
It would most likely have been the latter had not a certain
friendliness in the Bishop's glance disarmed his anger. "Mr. Morris is
fortunate," he went on, quietly. "See--he has pleased everyone except
Madame de Flahaut."

'Twas indeed as he had said, and, amid the applause and compliments,
only Madame de Flahaut sat silent and evidently piqued, her pretty face
wearing an expression of bored indifference. But even while Monsieur de
Talleyrand spoke, Mr. Morris, bending toward her, addressed some remark
to her and in an instant she was all animation and charm, exerting for
his benefit every fascination of which she was mistress, and showing him
by glance and voice how greatly she prized his attentions. For a moment
Mr. Calvert sat silent, contemplating the little play going on before
his eyes, when, suddenly remembering the words of the Duchesse
d'Orleans, he turned and looked at Monsieur de Talleyrand. Such a
softening change had come over the cynical, impassive countenance, so
wistful a look into the keen, dark eyes bent upon Madame de Flahaut, as
caused a feeling of pity in the young man's heart for this brilliant,
unhappy, unrighteous servant of the Church.

"So Mr. Calvert has read my secret, as I read his," said Monsieur de
Talleyrand, slowly, and returning the gaze which Calvert had absently
fastened upon him while revolving these thoughts. Suddenly he began
speaking rapidly, as if impelled thereto by some inward force, and, in a
low but passionately intense voice, heard only by Mr. Calvert:

"We are the sport of fate in this country more than in any other, I
think," he said. "I might have been a young man like yourself, as noble,
good, and true as yourself--oh, do not look astonished! 'Tis one of my
acknowledged talents--the reading of character--I, like yourself, might
have fought and loved with honor but that I am lame, and why was I
lame?" he went on, bitterly. "Because I never knew a mother's love or
care, because, when a baby, being sent from my home--and under that roof
I have never spent a night since--I fell and injured my foot, and the
woman in whose charge I had been put, being afraid to tell my parents of
my mishap, the hurt was allowed to go uncorrected until 'twas too late.
And so, being lame and unfit for a soldier's career, I was thrust into
the