My uncle was lying, pale and exhausted, with weary, sorrowful eyes and heavy arms, on his bed. A little religious picture was fastened to one of the bed curtains with a pin. “Why, uncle,” I said, “in bed still? Are you not well?” He replied in a feeble voice: “Oh, my dear boy, I have been very ill, nearly dead.” “How was that, uncle?” “I don't know; it was most surprising. But what is stranger still is that the Jesuit priest who has just left--you know, that excellent man whom I have made such fun of--had a divine revelation of my state, and came to see me.” I was seized with an almost uncontrollable desire to laugh, and with difficulty said: “Oh, really!” “Yes, he came. He heard a voice telling him to get up and come to me, because I was going to die. I was a revelation.” I pretended to sneeze, so as not to burst out laughing; I felt inclined to roll on the ground with amusement. In about a minute I managed to say indignantly: “And you received him, uncle? You, a Freethinker, a Freemason? You did not have him thrown out of doors?” He seemed confused, and stammered: “Listen a moment, it is so astonishing--so astonishing and providential! He also spoke to me about my father; it seems he knew him formerly.” “Your father, uncle? But that is no reason for receiving a Jesuit.” “I know that, but I was very ill, and he looked after me most devotedly all night long. He was perfect; no doubt he saved my life; those men all know a little of medicine.” “Oh! he looked after you all night? But you said just now that he had only been gone a very short time.” “That is quite true; I kept him to breakfast after all his kindness. He had it at a table by my bedside while I drank a cup of tea.” “And he ate meat?” My uncle looked vexed, as if I had said something very uncalled for, and then added: “Don't joke, Gaston; such things are out of place at times. He has shown me more devotion than many a relation would have done, and I expect to have his convictions respected.” This rather upset me, but I answered, nevertheless: “Very well, uncle; and what did you do after breakfast?” “We played a game of bezique, and then he repeated his breviary while I read a little book which he happened to have in his pocket, and which was not by any means badly written.” “A religious book, uncle?” “Yes, and no, or, rather--no. It is the history of their missions in Central Africa, and is rather a book of travels and adventures. What these men have done is very grand.” I began to feel that matters were going badly, so I got up. “Well, good-by, uncle,” I said, “I see you are going to give up Freemasonry for religion; you are a renegade.” He was still rather confused, and stammered: “Well, but religion is a sort of Freemasonry.” “When is your Jesuit coming back?” I asked. “I don't--I don't know exactly; to-morrow, perhaps; but it is not certain.” I went out, altogether overwhelmed.