its calm intonation even in the midst of the uproar, and Cardinal
Bonpre, tall and stately, suddenly appeared upon the threshold--
"What little sorrows are these?"

Henri's roar ceased abruptly,--Babette's shrill wailing dropped into
awed silence. Both youngsters stared amazed at the venerable Felix,
whose face and figure expressed such composed dignity and sweetness;
and Madame Patoux, nastily and with frequent gasps for breath,
related the history of the skirmish.

"And what will become of such little devils when they grow older,
the Blessed Virgin only knows!" she groaned--"For even now they are
so suspicious in nature, that they will not believe in their dinner
till they see it!"

Something like a faint grin widened the mouths of Henri and Babette
at this statement made with so much distressed fervour by their
angry mother,--but the Cardinal did not smile. His face had grown
very pale and grave, almost stern.

"The children are quite right, my daughter," he said gently,--"I am
no saint! I have performed no miracles. I am a poor sinner,--
striving to do well, but alas!--for ever striving in vain. The days
of noble living are past,--and we are all too much fallen in the
ways of error to deserve that our Lord should bless the too often
half-hearted and grudging labour of his so-called servants. Come
here, ma mignonne!" he continued, calling Babette, who approached
him with a curious air of half-timid boldness--"Thou art but a very
little girl," he said, laying his thin white hand softly on her
tumbled brown curls--"Nevertheless, I should be a very foolish old