"Where is he! What can he do? There is no time to be lost to save the men." The Bishop squeezed his head. "I am unable to do anything. A hundred livres of Bergerac--that is a large sum. If it had been livres of Tours, it would have been better. Here!"--he signed to his treasurer--"How much have I? Is there anything in my store?" "Nothing," answered the official. "Monseigneur has had to pay the garrison of La Roque, and all the money is out." "You hear what he says," said the Bishop dispiritedly. "I have nothing!" "Then the seven men must be mutilated." "It is too horrible! And the poor wives and children! Ah! we are in terrible times. I pray the Lord daily to take me out of it into the Rest there remains for the people of God; or, better still, to translate me to another see." "Yes, Monseigneur; but whilst we are here we must do what we can for our fellows, and to save them from further miseries." "That is true, boy, very true. I wish I had money. But it comes in in trickles and goes out in floods. I will tell you what to do. Go to the Saint Suaire at Cadouin and pray that the Holy Napkin may help." "I am afraid the help may come too late! The Napkin, I hear, is slow in answering prayer." "Not if you threaten it with the Saint Suaire at Cahors. Those two Holy Napkins are so near that they are as jealous of each other as two handsome girls; and if they met would tear each other as cats. Tell the Saint Suaire at Cadouin that if you are not helped at once you will apply to her sister at Cahors." "I have been told that it costs money to make the Saint Suaire listen to one's addresses, and I want to receive and not to pay." "Not much, not much!" protested the Bishop. "Besides, Monseigneur," said the youth, "there might be delay while the two Holy Napkins were fighting out the question which was to help us. And then--to have such a squabble might not be conducive to religion." "There is something in that," said the Bishop. "Oh, my head! my poor head!" He considered a while, and then with a sigh said--"I'll indulge butter. I will!" "I do not understand, my lord." "I'll allow the faithful to eat butter in Lent, if they will pay a few _sols_ for the privilege. That will raise a good sum." "Yes, but Lent is six months hence, and the men will be mutilated in twelve days." "Besides, I want the butter money for the cathedral, which is a shabby building! What a world of woe we live in!" "Monseigneur, can you not help me? Must seven homes be rendered desolate for lack of a hundred livres?"