The natural result of irritation and disenchantment on this ardent spirit was to swing it rapidly around to the opposite pole of opinion.  After all, Camors argued, his birth, his name, his family ties all pointed out his true course, which was to combat the cruel and despotic doctrines which he believed he detected under these democratic theories.  Another thing in the habitual language of his uncle also shocked and repelled him—­the profession of an absolute atheism.  He had within him, in default of a formal creed, a fund of general belief and respect for holy things—­that kind of religious sensibility which was shocked by impious cynicism.  Further he could not comprehend then, or ever afterward, how principles alone, without faith in some higher sanction, could sustain themselves by their own strength in the human conscience.

God—­or no principles!  This was the dilemma from which no German philosophy could rescue him.

This reaction in his mind drew him closer to those other branches of his family which he had hitherto neglected.  His two aunts, living at Paris, had been compelled, in consequence of their small fortunes, to make some sacrifices to enter into the blessed state of matrimony.  The elder, Eleanore-Jeanne, had married, during her father’s life, the Comte de la Roche-Jugan—­a man long past fifty, but still well worthy of being loved.  Nevertheless, his wife did not love him.  Their views on many essential points differed widely.  M. de la Roche-Jugan was one of those who had served the Government of the Restoration with an unshaken but hopeless devotion.  In his youth he had been attached to the person and to the ministry of the Duc de Richelieu; and he had preserved the memory of that illustrious man—­of the elevated moderation of his sentiments—­of the warmth of his patriotism and of his constancy.  He saw the pitfalls ahead, pointed them out to his prince—­displeased him by so doing, but still followed his fortunes.  Once more retired to private life with but small means, he guarded his political principles rather like a religion than a hope.  His hopes, his vivacity, his love of right—­all these he turned toward God.

His piety, as enlightened as profound, ranked him among the choicest spirits who then endeavored to reconcile the national faith of the past with the inexorable liberty of thought of the present.  Like his colaborers in this work, he experienced only a mortal sadness under which he sank.  True, his wife contributed no little to hasten his end by the intemperance of her zeal and the acrimony of her bigotry.

She had little heart and great pride, and made her God subserve her passions, as Dardennes made liberty subserve his malice.

No sooner had she become a widow than she purified her salons.  Thenceforth figured there only parishioners more orthodox than their bishops, French priests who denied Bossuet; consequently she believed that religion was saved in France.  Louis de Camors, admitted to this choice circle by title both of relative and convert, found there the devotion of Louis XI and the charity of Catherine de Medicis; and he there lost very soon the little faith that remained to him.