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"Monsignor Moretti," interposed the Cardinal with dignity, "it is no part of justice or holiness to denounce anything or anybody till the full rights of the case have been heard. I was as unaware as yourself that this young man, Cyrillon Vergniaud, was the daring writer who has sent his assumed name of 'Gys Grandit' like a flame through Europe.
His self-imposed punishment, and his unexpected reward in the personality of his son, have proved a little too much for him, both he and 'Grandit' are at my Chateau," here she raised her lorgnon, and peered through it with an inquisitive air, "Tiens! There is the dear Varillo making himself agreeable as usual to all the ladies! When does the marriage come off between him and our gifted Sovrani?"
These things are scarcely ever noticed in the press nowadays, and it will only be a very limited circle that even learns of his excommunication. Nevertheless, I am sorry one is always sorry for brave men, even if they are reckless. And the son is Gys Grandit! Corpo di Bacco! What a denouement!"
He was still thinking on this subject, when someone walking quickly came face to face with him, and said "Aubrey!" He started and stared, then uttered a cry of pleasure. "Gys Grandit!" The two men clasped each other's hands in a warm, strong grasp and for a moment neither could speak. "My dear fellow!" said Aubrey at last "This is indeed an unexpected meeting! How glad I am to see you!
And something still more marvellous followed, for that very son who tried to kill him was no other than Gys Grandit, the man we have just heard speaking, though nobody knew it till a week afterwards. Such a scene you never saw in a church!
Naturally there are strong suspicions that he has met with a violent death, perhaps at the hands of the Freemasons, who are ever at work conspiring against the Faith, or else through the intrigues of the so-called 'Christian Democrats, of whom 'Gys Grandit' is a leader.
"They are angry with him still at the Vatican angry now with his dead body! But 'Gys Grandit' is not of the Catholic faith, so they can do nothing with him." "No. He is what they call a 'free-lance," said Sylvie. "And a wonderful personage he is! I You have seen him?" A faint colour crept over Angela's pale cheeks. "Yes. Once. Just once, in Paris, on the day his father publicly acknowledged him.
And sitting down beside her, still holding her hand, he gave her an account of his meeting with Cyrillon Vergniaud, otherwise "Gys Grandit," and told her of the sudden passion for Angela that had fired the soul of that fiery writer of the fiercest polemics against priestcraft that had as yet startled France.
But I feel I ought not to cast the shadow of my presence on your house under such circumstances and as for my son it would certainly be unwise for you to extend your gracious hospitality to him . . . he is my son yes truly! and I acknowledge him as such; but he is also another person of his own making Gys Grandit!"
The day was misty and cold, and the sun shone fitfully through the wreaths of thin vapour that hung over the city, occasionally gleaming on the pale fine face of the famous "Gys Grandit", who, standing at the edge of the grave spoke his oration over the dead. "To this, to this," he cried, "oh people of Paris, we all must come!
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