with a sudden flush, he spoke of Napoleon. At that name the church
became still, and the dullest habitant listened intently. Napoleon was
in the air--a curious sequence to the song that was sung on the night of
Valmond's arrival, when a phrase was put in the mouths of the parish,
which gave birth to a personal reality. "Vive Napoleon!" had been on
every lip this week, and it was an easy step from a phrase to a man.

The Cure spoke with pensive dignity of Napoleon's past career, his work
for France, his too proud ambition, behind which was his great love of
country; and how, for chastening, God turned upon him violently and
tossed him like a ball into the wide land of exile, from which he came
out no more.

"But," continued the calm voice, "his spirit, stripped of the rubbish of
this quarrelsome world, and freed from the spite of foes, comes out from
exile and lives in our France to-day--for she is still ours, though we
find peace and bread to eat, under another flag. And in these troubled
times, when France needs a man, even as a barren woman a child to be the
token of her womanhood, it may be that one sprung from the loins of the
Great Napoleon may again give life to the principle which some have
sought to make into a legend. Even as the deliverer came out of obscure
Corsica, so from some outpost of France, where the old watchwords still
are called, may rise another Napoleon, whose mission will be civic glory
and peace alone, the champion of the spirit of France, defending it
against the unjust. He shall be fastened as a nail in a sure place, as a
glorious throne to his father's house."

He leaned over the pulpit, and, pausing, looked down at his congregation.
Then, all at once, he was aware that he had created a profound
impression. Just in front of him, his eyes burning with a strange fire,