“Yes, monsieur _le préfet_” said Abbé Guitrel, “our worthy M. Rondonneau junior has executed this beautiful specimen of goldsmith’s work after ancient models. I am inclined to think that they could not have done better in the Place Saint-Sulpice, in Paris, where the best goldsmiths are to be found.” “_À propos_, monsieur l’abbé, what is your opinion of the prophetess whom our town possesses?” “What prophetess, monsieur _le préfet_? Do you mean that poor girl who pretends to be in communication with Saint Radegonde, queen of France? Alas! monsieur, it cannot possibly be the pious spouse of Clotaire who suggests to that miserable girl sorry nonsense of every kind and rhapsodies which, being irreconcilable with good sense, are still less to be reconciled with theology. Foolery, monsieur _le préfet_, mere foolery!” M. Worms-Clavelin, who had prepared some subtle jests concerning priestly credulity, remained silent. “No, indeed,” continued M. Guitrel, with a smile, “it is incredible that Saint Radegonde should suggest this trash, this folly, all these silly, empty, sometimes heterodox, speeches that fall from the lips of this young maiden. The voice of the sainted Radegonde would have another accent, believe me.” M. LE PRÉFET: “Very little is known, in fact, about this Saint Radegonde.” M. GUITREL: “You mistake, monsieur _le préfet_, you mistake! Saint Radegonde, reverenced by the whole Catholic Church, is the object of special worship in the diocese of Poitiers, which was formerly witness of her merits.” M. LE PRÉFET: “Yes, as you say, monsieur l’abbé, there is a special …” M. GUITREL: “Even atheists themselves have regarded this great figure with admiration. What a sublime picture, monsieur _le préfet_! After the murder of her brother by her husband, Clotaire’s noble spouse betakes herself to Bishop Médard at Noyon, and urges him to dedicate her to God. Taken by surprise, Saint Médard hesitates; he urges the indissolubility of marriage. But Radegonde herself covers her head with the veil of a recluse, and flings herself at the feet of the pontiff, who, overcome by the saintly persistence of the queen, and braving the wrath of the savage monarch, offers this blessed victim to God.” M. LE PRÉFET: “But, monsieur l’abbé, do you approve of a bishop defying the civil powers in that fashion and abetting the wife of his overlord in her revolt? The deuce! if these are your opinions, I shall be grateful to you for telling me so.”