As usual, they were in the Cardinal's study; the statesman was silent and thoughtful, and Gouache was working with all his might. "I have made up my mind," said the latter, suddenly. "Concerning what, my friend?" inquired the great man, rather absently. "Concerning everything, Eminence," answered Gouache "concerning politics, religion, life, death, and everything else which belongs to my career. I am going to enlist with the Zouaves." The Cardinal looked at him for a moment, and then broke into a low laugh. "_Extremis malis extrema remedial!_" he exclaimed. "Precisely--_aux grands maux les grands remèdes,_ as we say. I am going to join the Church militant. I am convinced that it is the best thing an honest man can do. I like fighting, and I like the Church--therefore I will fight for the Church." "Very good logic, indeed," answered the Cardinal. But he looked at Anastase, and marking his delicate features and light frame, he almost wondered how the lad would look in the garb of a soldier. "Very good logic; but, my dear Monsieur Gouache, what is to become of your art?" "I shall not be mounting guard all day, and the Zouaves are allowed to live in their own lodgings. I will live in my studio, and paint when I am not mounting guard." "And my portrait?" inquired Cardinal Antonelli, much amused. "Your Eminence will doubtless be kind enough to manage that I may have liberty to finish it." "You could not put off enlisting for a week, I suppose?" Gouache looked annoyed; he hated the idea of waiting. "I have taken too long to make up my mind already," he replied. "I must make the plunge at once. I am convinced--your Eminence has convinced me--that I have been very foolish." "I certainly never intended to convince you of that," remarked the Cardinal, with a smile. "Very foolish," repeated Gouache, not heeding the interruption. "I have talked great nonsense,--I scarcely know why--perhaps to try and find where the sense really lay. I have dreamed so many dreams, so long, that I sometimes think I am morbid. All artists are morbid, I suppose. It is better to do anything active than to lose one's self in the slums of a sickly imagination." "I agree with you," answered the Cardinal; "but I do not think you suffered from a sickly imagination,--I should rather call it abundant than sickly. Frankly, I should be sorry to think that in following this new idea you were in any way injuring the great career which, I am sure, is before you; but, on the other hand, I cannot help wishing that a greater number of young men would follow your example." "Your Eminence approves, then?" "Do you think you will make a good soldier?" "Other artists have been good soldiers. There was Cellini--"