"I am a human being, sir," continued the priest, "and must feel as other men. Death is a terrible abyss between earth and heaven; but the land is not the less lovely beyond it." "You speak as you were taught?" said the baron. "Yes." "And as you teach?" "Yes." "And you profess to feel all this?" "I profess to be a humble minister of Christ--imperfect enough, Heaven knows, sir! I ask your pardon for complaining at your words. They did not shock me very much. How should they, when I came expecting them? Farewell, sir; I will return to Auvergne, and die in the midst of my people." "Stay!" exclaimed the baron, touched and softened by the one magical word. "Come back! I admire your calmness--I respect your powers of endurance. Can you trust them to the end?" "I am frail, and very weak, sir," replied the priest. "I would bear much to save my life. I do not wish to die. I have many things unfinished yet." "Listen to me. There is but one means of saving you; and mark--that perhaps may fail--a long, painful, and, it may be, unsuccessful operation. Are you prepared to run the risk?" "Is there a chance, sir?" "Yes--but a remote one. Were I the priest of Auvergne I would take that chance." "It is enough, sir," said the old man. "Let it be done. I will undergo it, with the help of God, as their pastor should, for the sake of my dear children in Auvergne." The baron sat at his desk, and wrote a few lines-- "Present this note," said he, "at the _Salle St Agnes_ in the _Hotel Dieu_. Go at once. The sisters there will take care that you want for nothing. Take rest for a day or two, and I will see what afterwards may be done for you." The priest thanked the baron many times for his kindness--bowed respectfully, and retired. The free-thinking surgeon sat for a few minutes after his departure, silent and thoughtful. "Happy man!" he exclaimed at last, sighing as the words escaped him. "Happy, sir?" said I enquiringly. "Yes! happy, Mr Walpole. False and fabulous as the system is on which he builds, is he not to be envied for the faith that buoys him up so well through the great sea of trouble, as your poet justly calls this pitiable world! Could one _purchase_ this all-powerful faith, what price would be too dear for such an acquisition? Who would not give all that he possesses here to grasp that hope and anchor?" "And yet, sir, you might have it. The gift is freely offered, and you spurn it." "No such thing!" replied the surgeon hastily. "I may NOT have it. This weak yet amiable priest is content to take for granted what every rational mind rejects without fair proofs. He receives as a postulate that which I must have demonstrated. I try to solve the problem, and the first links of the argument lead to an absurdity." "The weak man, then, has reason to be thankful?" said I. "Ay, ay! I grant you that. He cannot tell how much!"