way.

"It is dark, Monseigneur," said Patoux apologetically.

"It is very dark," agreed Monseigneur, stumbling as he spoke, and
feeling rather inclined to indulge in very uncanonical language. "It
is altogether a miserable hole, mon Patoux!"

"It is for poor people only," returned Jean calmly--"And poverty is
not a crime, Monseigneur."

"No, it is not a crime," said the stately Churchman as he reached
the door at last, and paused for a moment on the threshold,--a broad
smile wrinkling up his fat cheeks and making comfortable creases
round his small eyes--"But it is an inconvenience!"

"Cardinal Bonpre does not say so," observed Patoux.

"Cardinal Bonpre is one of two things--a saint or a fool! Remember
that, mon Patoux! Bon soir! Benedicite!"

And the Archbishop, still smiling to himself, walked leisurely
across the square in the direction of his own house, where his
supper awaited him. The moon had risen, and was clambering slowly up
between the two tall towers of Notre Dame, her pure silver radiance
streaming mockingly against the candle Jean Patoux still held in the
doorway of his inn, and almost extinguishing its flame.

"One of two things--a saint or a fool," murmured Jean with a
chuckle--"Well!--it is very certain that the Archbishop is neither!"