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Updated: June 16, 2025
Cardinal Bonpre had not seen him since the day of the Vergniaud scandal in Paris, and a faint colour came into his pale cheeks as he noted the air of overbearing condescension and authority with which Moretti, here on his own ground, as one of the favorites of the Pope, greeted him.
Cardinal Bonpre, walking past the stately fourteenth-century Gothic pile of the Palais de Justice, thought half-vaguely of some of these things, but they affected him less than they might have done had his mind not been full of the grand music he had just heard in the Cathedral, and of the darkness that had slowly gathered there, as though in solemn commingling with the darkness which had at the same time settled over his soul.
Her mother smiled broadly. "Not exactly, my little one. Why such a foolish question?" "You said that Cardinal Bonpre was a saint, and that perhaps we should see an angel come down from heaven to visit him," replied Babette. "Well, you could not have thought the Archbishop came from heaven," interpolated Henri, scornfully, "He came from his own house over the way with his own secretary behind him.
Hearing that Bonpre intended to stay a couple of nights in Rouen, he cordially invited him to spend that time at his house, but the invitation had been gratefully yet firmly refused, much to the Archbishop's amazement.
"All 'saints' get into trouble!" answered Moretti, "It is only sinners who receive honour! Cardinal Bonpre has made the fatal mistake of reading Jesus Christ's Gospel instead of Church Doctrine! His creed is Love, his duty, as I have just explained to you, if he would be a faithful son of the Church, is Hate!"
And Felix Bonpre sighed he knew not why except that he was always sorry for women who loved men with any very great exaltation or devotion. That curiously tender adoration of a true woman's heart which is so often wasted on an unworthy object, seemed to him like lifting a cup of gold to a swine's snout.
Moretti's angry eyes rolled in his head with an excess of wrath and amazement. "Surely some evil spirit possesses this boy!" he exclaimed irately, "Retro me Sathanas! He is a rank heretic a heathen! And yet he lives in the companionship of Cardinal Felix Bonpre!"
"Will you take it," he said, "as a pledge that I will faithfully do whatever you may see fitting and right to retrieve the past? and to clear my son's soul from the thirst of vengeance which is consuming it?" Cardinal Bonpre clasped the extended hand warmly.
Whether there were virtue in it or not, their father's mute blessing sent them to bed peaceably and in good humour with each other, and they trotted off very contentedly beside their mother, hushing their footsteps and lowering their voices as they passed the door of the room occupied by Cardinal Bonpre. "The Archbishop is not an angel, is he?" asked Babette whisperingly.
Madame Patoux gazed at him in fascinated silence, gazed and gazed, till she found her eyes suddenly full of tears. Then she turned away to hide them, but not before Cardinal Bonpre had observed her emotion. "Well, good MOTHER" he said with gentle emphasis on the word "Would you have me forsake this child that I have found?"
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