nothing, and I looked at him in great
surprise. 'You have made up your mind, then, at last?' I said.

'Perfectly,' he answered.

'And solved all your doubts?'

'I have no doubts.'

'You are a Huguenot?'

'That is the only true and pure religion,' he replied gravely. And with
apparent sincerity and devotion he repeated Beza's Confession of Faith.

This filled me with profound astonishment, but I said no more at the
time, though I had my doubts. I waited until I was alone with M. de
Rosny, and then I unbosomed myself on the matter; expressing my surprise
at the suddenness of the conversion, and at such a man, as I had found
the student to be, stating his views so firmly and steadfastly, and with
so little excitement. Observing that M. de Rosny smiled but answered
nothing, I explained myself farther.

'I am surprised,' I said, 'because I have always heard it maintained
that clerkly men, becoming lost in the mazes of theology, seldom find
any sure footing; that not one in a hundred returns to his old faith, or
finds grace to accept a new one. I am speaking only of such, of course,
as I believe this lad to be--eager, excitable brains, learning much, and
without judgment to digest what they learn.'

'Of such I also believe it to be true,' M. de Rosny answered, still
smiling. 'But even on them a little influence, applied at the right
moment, has much effect, M. de Marsac.'

'I allow that,' I said. 'But my mother, of whom I have spoken to you,
saw much of this youth. His fidelity to her was beyond praise. Yet her
faith, though grounded on a rock, had no weight with him.'

M. de Rosny shook his head, still smiling.

'It is not our mothers who convert us,' he said.

'What!' I cried, my eyes opened. 'Do you mean--do you mean that
Mademoiselle has done this?'

'I fancy so,' he answered, nodding. 'I think my lady cast her spell over
him by the way. The lad left Blois with her, if what you say be true,
without faith in the world. He came to my hands two days later the
stoutest of Huguenots. It is not hard to read this riddle.'

'Such, conversions are seldom lasting,' I said.

He looked at me queerly; and, the smile still hovering about his lips,
answered 'Tush, man! Why so serious? Theodore Beza himself could not
look dryer. The lad is in earnest, and there is no harm done.'

And, Heaven knows, I was in no mood to suspect harm; nor inclined
just then to look at the dark side of things. It may be conceived how
del