"Have no fear, my good Monsieur Legros," pronounced Monseigneur with urbane kindness; "your affairs shall come under the special notice of the Holy Father. Be of good cheer, right and justice are on your side. Solemn vows cannot be flouted even in these days of godlessness. Go in peace, my son; you are dismissed."

"And if the Holy Father—hem—I mean if Monseigneur would take cognizance of the fact—hem—that I will place—" stammered M. Legros with some confusion. "I mean, Monseigneur—that is—I am a man of substance—and if the sum of fifty thousand francs—or—or a hundred thousand—"

"Nay, my son, what would you suggest?" quoth Monseigneur with a slight lifting of elegantly-arched brows. "The thought of money doth not enter into the decrees of the Holy Father."

[2] "I know—I know, Monseigneur," said M. Legros with ever-growing confusion. "I only thought—"

[2]

"An you thought, my son, of pleasing God by the bestowal of alms in these days of licentiousness and of evil luxury, then by all means do so in accordance with your substance—I will see to the proper distribution of those alms, good Master Legros—the two hundred thousand francs you speak of shall be worthily bestowed, our promise thereon."

M. Legros did not think of protesting. The sum mentioned by Monseigneur was a heavy one in these days, when the working and trading classes had but little left for their own pleasures once the tax collector had passed their way. But the worthy tailor had made no idle boast when he said that he was a man of substance; he was well able to pay a goodly sum for the gratification of his most cherished desire.

He received his final congé almost on his knees, then he disappeared through the doorway. Lacqueys to the right of him, lacqueys to the left of him, lacqueys all the way along the carpeted stairs down to the massive front door, formed a living avenue through which M. Legros now passed with his back not yet fully straightened out after its many humble curvatures.

Soon he reached the narrow, ill-ventilated street on which gave the great gates of Monseigneur the Archbishop's palace. Instinctively M. Legros gave a deep sigh of content and relief, inhaling the fresh autumnal air which could not altogether be excluded even from these close purlieus where roof almost met roof overhead, and evil-smelling gutters overflowed along the roughly-constructed pavements.

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