In this, René Drucquer was right. The Provincial was fully aware of the presence of this spirit of antagonism, and, moreover, he knew that it extended to the taciturn sub-prior who accompanied him. But this knowledge in no way disturbed him. The spirit of antagonism had met him in every turn of life. It was so familiar that he had learned to despise it. Hitherto he had never failed in any undertaking, and he had never been turned aside from the execution of his purpose by the fear of incurring the enmity of men. Such minds as this make their mark in the line of life which they take up, and if they do not happen to win the love of their fellow-beings, they get on remarkably well without it. The Provincial came into the cell with a singular noiselessness of motion. His pale face expressed neither surprise nor annoyance, and his eyes rested upon the form of the sick man with no sign of apprehension. He approached, and with his long white finger touched Christian's wrist. For a few moments he watched the uneasy movements of his flushed face, and then he turned aside, without, however, leaving the bedside. Here again there seemed to be no fear or thought of infection. The sub-prior stood behind him with clasped hands, while René, who had risen from his seat, was near at hand. “This man, my father,” said the Provincial coldly, “must not die. You must take every care, and spare no expense or trouble. If it is necessary you can have doctors from Nantes. I will bear every expense, and I shall be grieved to hear of his death!” Then he turned to leave the cell. He was a busy man, and his visit had already lasted nearly three minutes. René Drucquer stepped forward hurriedly. He was between his superior and the door, so that he was in a position to command attention. “My father,” he pleaded, “may I nurse him?” The Provincial raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly; then he waved his hand, commanding the young priest to stand aside. “No,” he said softly, “you must leave for Nantes in half-an-hour,” and he passed out into the noiseless corridor. CHAPTER XXIV BACK TO LIFE One mellow autumnal evening, when the sunlight reflected from the white monastery walls upon the fruit trees climbing there was still warm and full of ripening glow, the Provincial was taking his post-prandial promenade.