Christianity. The cardinal, who was a cunning Italian, long bearded, a great sophist, and the life and soul of the Council, guessed, by the feeblest exercise of the faculties of his understanding, the alpha and omega of the adventure. He only had to weigh in his mind one little thought before he knew how to proceed in order to be able to hypothecate his manly vigour. He arrived with the appetite of a hungry monk, and to obtain its satisfaction he was just the man to stab two monks and sell his bit of the true cross, which were wrong. 

     "Hulloa! friend," said he to Philippe, calling him towards him. The     poor Tourainian, more dead than alive, and expecting the devil was about to interfere seriously with his arrangements, rose and said,     "What is it?" to the redoubtable cardinal. 

     He taking him by the arm led him to the staircase, looked him in the white of the eye and said without any nonsense—"Ventredieu! You are a nice little fellow, and I should not like to have to let your master know the weight of your carcass. My revenge might cause me certain pious expenses in my old age, so choose to espouse an abbey for the remainder of your days, or to marry Madame to-night and die tomorrow." 

     The poor little Tourainian in despair murmured, "May I come back when your passion is over?" 

     The cardinal could scarcely keep his countenance, but he said sternly,     "Choose the gallows or a mitre." 

     "Ah!" said the priest, maliciously; "a good fat abbey." 

     Thereupon the cardinal went back into the room, opened an escritoire, and scribbled upon a piece of parchment an order to the envoy of France. 

     "Monseigneur," said the Tourainian to him while he was spelling out     the order, "you will not get rid of the Bishop of Coire so easily as you have got rid of me, for he has as many abbeys as the soldiers have drinking shops in the town; besides, he is in the favour of his lord. Now I fancy to show you my gratitude for this so fine Abbey I owe you good piece of advice. You know how fatal has been and how rapidly spread this terrible pestilence which has cruelly harassed Paris. Tell him that you have just left the bedside of your old friend the Archbishop of Bordeaux; thus you will make him scutter away like straw before a whirl-wind. 

     "Oh, oh!" cried the cardinal, "thou 

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