Deeply interested as he was, the Cardinal nevertheless still hesitated.  To him, though the sayings and opinions of the famous “Gys Grandit” were not exactly new, there was something terrible in hearing him utter them with such bold and trenchant meaning.  He sighed, and appeared lost in thought; till Manuel touched him gently on the arm.

“Dear friend, are you afraid to bless this man who loves our Father?”

“Afraid?  My child, I am afraid of nothing—­but there is grave trouble in my heart—­”

“Nay, trouble should never enter there!” said Manuel softly, “Stretch out your hand!—­let no human soul wait for a benediction!”

Profoundly moved, the Cardinal obeyed, and laid his white trembling hand on Cyrillon’s bent head.

“May God forgive thee the intention of thy sin today!” he said, in a low and solemn tone—­“May Christ guide thee out of all evil, and lead thee through the wildness of the world to Heaven’s own peace, which passeth understanding!”

So gentle, so brave, so sweet and tender were the accents in which he spoke these few simple works, that the tears filled Angela’s eyes, and Abbe Vergniaud, resting his head on one hand, felt a strange contraction in his throat, and began to think of possible happy days yet to be passed perchance in seclusion with this long-denied son of his, who had sprung out of the secret ways of love, first to slay and then to redeem him.  Could there be a more plain and exact measuring out of law?  If he had not confessed his sin he would have probably died in it suddenly without a chance of amendment or repentance—­but lo!—­on confession, his life had been saved as if by a miracle, and the very result of evil had been transformed into consolation!  So he sat absorbed, wondering—­musing--and while the Cardinal spoke his blessing with closed eyes, all heads were bent, and faces hidden.  And in the reverent silence that followed, the gentle prelate gave a sign of kind dismissal and farewell to all, which they, understanding, accepted, and at once made their brief adieuxthe Abbe Vergniaud only lingering a moment longer than the rest, to bend humbly down and kiss his Apostolic ring.  Then they left him, alone with Manual.

On their way out of the house, through Angela’s studio, the Princesse D’Agramont paused for a few minutes to say further kind words to the Abbe respecting the invitation she had given him to her Chateau—­, and while she was thus engaged, Angela turned hurriedly to Cyrillon.

“As ‘Gys Grandit’ you receive many letters from strangers, do you not?”

The young man regarded her earnestly, with unconcealed admiration glowing in his fine eyes.

“Assuredly, Mademoiselle!  And some of these letters are very dear to me, because they make me aware of friends I might otherwise never have known.”

“You have one correspondent who is deeply interested in your theories, and who sympathises keenly in all your religious views—­” she went on, lowering her eyes—­“a certain Madame Angele—­”