hurried away, and hustling Henri and Babette like two little roly-
poly balls before her into the kitchen, she told them with much
emphasis that there was a saint in the house,--a saint fit to be the
holy companion of any of those who had their niches up in the
Cathedral near the great rose-window,--and that if they were good
children they would very likely see an angel coming down from heaven
to visit him. Babette put her finger in her mouth and looked
incredulous. She had a vague belief in angels,--but Henri, with the
cheap cynicism of the modern French lad was anything but sure about
them.

"Mother," said he, "There's a boy in our school who says there is no
God at all, and that it's no use having priests or Cardinals or
Cathedrals,--it's all rubbish and humbug!"

"Poor little miserable monster!" exclaimed Madame Patoux, as she
peered into the pot where the soup for the Cardinal's supper was
simmering--"He is arranging himself to become a thief or a murderer,
be sure of that, Henri!--and thou, who art trained in all thy holy
duties by the good Pere Laurent, who teaches thee everything which
the school is not wise enough to teach, ought never to listen to
such wickedness. If there were no God, we should not be alive at
all, thou foolish child!--for it is only our blessed Saviour and the
saints that keep the world going."

Henri was silent,--Babette looked at him and made a little grimace
of scorn.

"If the Cardinal is a saint," she said--"he should be able to
perform a miracle. The little Fabien Doucet has been lame for seven