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The Master-Christian by Marie Corelli
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noble knight riding forth to battle and to victory, armed cap-a-pie,
his war-steed richly caparisoned, his lance in rest,--and finally,
on the sarcophagus itself is stretched his nude and helpless form,
with hands clenched in the last gasping struggle for breath, and
every muscle strained and fighting against the pangs of dissolution.

"But," said the Cardinal half aloud, with the gentle dawning of a
tender smile brightening the fine firm curve of his lips,--"it is
not the end! The end here, no doubt;--but the beginning--THERE!"

He raised his eyes devoutly, and instinctively touched the silver
crucifix hanging by its purple ribbon at his breast. The orange-red
glow of the sun encompassed him with fiery rings, as though it would
fain consume his thin, black-garmented form after the fashion in
which flames consumed the martyrs of old,--the worn figures of
mediaeval saints in their half-broken niches stared down upon him
stonily, as though they would have said,--"So we thought,--even we!-
-and for our thoughts and for our creed we suffered willingly,--yet
lo, we have come upon an age of the world in which the people know
us not,--or knowing, laugh us all to scorn."

But Cardinal Bonpre being only conscious of a perfect faith,
discovered no hints of injustice or despair in the mutilated shapes
of the Evangelists surrounding him,--they were the followers of
Christ,--and being such, they were bound to rejoice in the tortures
which made their glory. It was only the unhappy souls who suffered
not for Christ at all, whom he considered were truly to be
compassionated.

"And if," he murmured as he moved on--"this knight of former days,
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