Not a sound, not a breath. The smoke mounted straight, straight and
slowly up the pale steps of the firmament.

"Have you ever heard of the _Atlas of Christianity_?" asked Morhange.

"I think so. Isn't it a geographical work published by the
Benedictines under the direction of a certain Dom Granger?"

"Your memory is correct," said Morhange. "Even so let me explain a
little more fully some of the things you have not had as much reason
as I to interest yourself in. The _Atlas of Christianity_ proposes to
establish the boundaries of that great tide of Christianity through
all the ages, and for all parts of the globe. An undertaking worthy of
the Benedictine learning, worthy of such a prodigy of erudition as
Dom Granger himself."

"And it is these boundaries that you have come to determine here, no
doubt," I murmured.

"Just so," replied my companion.

He was silent, and I respected his silence, prepared by now to be
astonished at nothing.

"It is not possible to give confidences by halves, without being
ridiculous," he continued after several minutes of meditation,
speaking gravely, in a voice which held no suggestion of that flashing
humor which had a month before enchanted the young officers at Wargla.
"I have begun on mine. I will tell you everything. Trust my
discretion, however, and do not insist upon certain events of my