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Updated: June 12, 2025
Well, I have not the notes about me at the moment, but I will send you up that sum in an hour if you wish it. Your father's will entitles you to five million francs, so you see I am not in any way endangering myself by advancing you ten thousand." Cyrillon was quite silent. The lawyer studied him curiously, but could not determine whether he was pleased or sorry at the announcement of his fortune.
Cyrillon paused, his eyes softening with a great tenderness as they rested upon her. "Who could hate you?" "Florian hated me," she said. "Not always, no! He loved me once! Only when he saw my picture, then his love perished. Ah, my Florian! Had I known, I would have destroyed all my work rather than have given him a moment's pain!" "And would that have been right?" asked Cyrillon earnestly.
And Cyrillon Vergniaud was given this happiness of the highest, purest kind, as with the aid of the wondering and reluctant Monsieur Andre Petitot, he gave poor families comfort for life, and rescued the sick and the sorrowful, and all he reserved to himself from his father's large fortune was half a million francs.
With the earning of my body's keep came spiritual independence, and young as I was I began to read and consider for myself till when I was about fifteen chance brought me across the path of a man whose example inspired me and decided my fate, named Aubrey Leigh." Angela gave a slight exclamation of surprise, and Cyrillon turned his dark eyes upon her. "Yes, mademoiselle!
"I generally prefer not to speak," replied Cyrillon, "But to-day is one of open confession, and I think too that it is sometimes advisable for men of the Church to understand and enter into the minds of those who are outside the Church, who will have no Church, not from disobedience or insubordination, but simply because they do not find God or Christ in that institution as it at present exists.
Angela Sovrani gave a slight cry, and a wave of colour flushed her face, the Princesse stood amazed. "Gys Grandit!" she echoed in a low tone, "And Vergniaud's son! Grand Dieu! Is it possible!" Then advancing, she extended both her hands to Cyrillon, "Monsieur, accept my homage! You have a supreme genius, and with it you command more than one-half of the thoughts of France!"
Moretti gave a gesture of impatience and contempt. Cyrillon noted it, and his dark eyes flashed, but he went on steadily,
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