Caussin listened unmoved. "There are, doubtless," said he, "many members of our order who would do honor to your selection, Cardinal. For myself, I should want no preferment;—indeed, I should decline it." He spoke with the frankness of perfect sincerity. Richelieu looked down, and worked the points of his fingers impatiently on the table. His hands were singularly white and shapely, with taper fingers. As a young man he had loved to display them; the habit had remained with him when he was thoughtful or annoyed. "Well, my father," said he, "your answer?" Caussin eyed the Cardinal suspiciously,—"I am happy to reassure your Eminence; his Majesty is, as usual, in the most pious sentiments." "Hum!—that is strange, very strange; I fear that the benevolence of your nature, my father—" Caussin drew himself up, and a look as much approaching defiance as it was possible for him to assume passed into his pleasant face. Richelieu did not finish the offensive sentence. "It is strange," he went on to say, "for I have reason to _know_—I ask you for no information, reverend father—that his Majesty's feelings are engaged in a mundane passion which, if encouraged, may lead him from those precepts and exercises in which he has hitherto lived in obedience to the Church." "To what passion do you allude?" asked Caussin cautiously. "To the infatuation his Majesty evinces for the new maid of honour, Louise de Lafayette. The lady is self-willed and romantic. She may lead him into deadly sin." Caussin started. "I apprehend nothing of the kind," replied he drily. "True, my father, but that is a matter of opinion. I think differently. Absolution, after repentance," continued the Cardinal pompously, "may wash out even crime, but it is for us,—you, his Majesty's confessor, and I, his minister, both faithful servants of the Holy Father,"—Caussin looked hard at the Cardinal, who was by no means considered orthodox at Rome,—"it is for us to guard him from even the semblance of evil. I have sent for you, my father, to assist me in placing Louise de Lafayette in a convent. It will be at least a measure of precaution. I shall require all your help, my father; will you give it me?" Richelieu, as he asked this important question, narrowly observed Caussin from under his drooping eyelids. The confessor was evidently embarrassed. His kindly countenance was troubled; and he was some time in answering. "To dedicate a young and pure soul to God," he replied, at length, with evident hesitation, "is truly an acceptable work; but has your Eminence considered that the lady in question is of the most blameless life, and that by her example and influence his Majesty may be kept in that path of obedience and faith which some other attachment might not insure?" As he asked this question Caussin leaned forwards towards Richelieu, speaking earnestly.