“Yes. He pretends that this elopement is one of the results of your _liaison_ with Adéonne. Nor would I advise you to trouble yourself any more about Madame de la Varade. She is absorbed in the preaching of a missionary who is creating a sensation at Versailles.” “A missionary? What is that?” “Missionaries, my friend,” replied Paul, seriously, “are men, or rather children of God, who traverse the seas, and encounter a thousand perils, to bear to benighted savages the word of God and civilization. The priest of whom I speak has been crucified, and has been six times in danger of being eaten.” “I will go to see him,” said Eusebe; and he departed. Father Vernier belonged to the Congregation of Lazaristes of Turin. He was an old man, with a snowy beard and a bronzed complexion. His black eyes were full of courage and good nature. He received Eusebe kindly. “What do you desire, my son?” he inquired. “Father,” replied the young man, “I am weary of struggling with the contradictions and troubles of life. The more I seek truth, the more deeply do I become involved in doubt. To-day I come to you, like the wounded bird flying for rest to the branch of an aged oak. In the name of Heaven, tell me where to find the true, and where the false is hidden.” “Monsieur,” said the priest, dryly, “I have devoted my life to the service of the Lord. I have traversed the wilderness to teach His word to the heathen. I owe my support to the humble and the suffering, to whom I am devoted. I have neither time nor inclination to enter into philosophic speculations.” The same evening, Eusebe departed for the home of his childhood. Not finding at Limoges any vehicle to convey him to La Capelette, he determined to perform the rest of the journey on foot. He had proceeded scarcely half the distance, when a violent storm arose and forced him to seek shelter in a wayside inn. While the landlady was preparing his supper, he picked up, mechanically, a greasy volume which was lying on the table, and read. After he had eaten, he retired to his chamber, where he passed the night in reading the same book. At dawn he arose and tendered a golden louis to the landlord for the privilege of carrying away the volume in which he was so deeply interested. When once more on the road, Eusebe said,-- “Why have I gone so far and exposed myself to so much sorrow in the search of truth, when it was at my very door?” The volume contained the various books of the New Testament. “I was wrong to let the gentleman carry away the book,” said the innkeeper to his wife. “Bah! it cost only twelve sous,” she replied. “And suppose it did: would he have given us twenty francs for it, if it had not been worth more?” On reaching the great gate of his father’s house, Eusebe knocked. “Ah! The good Lord be praised, Monsieur Eusebe,” exclaimed Katy, who soon appeared, “here you are at last. Hurry up to your father’s chamber: he so wishes to see you before he dies.”