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stove where the charcoal was still smoking and a half-emptied palliasse

on which the mother had fallen, suckling her last-born, a babe but three

months old. And a drop of blood had trickled from the nipple of her

breast, towards which the dead infant still protruded its eager lips. Two

little girls, three and five years old, two pretty little blondes, were

also lying there, sleeping the eternal sleep side by side; whilst of the

two boys, who were older, one had succumbed crouching against the wall

with his head between his hands, and the other had passed through the

last throes on the floor, struggling as though he had sought to crawl on

his knees to the window in order to open it. Some neighbours, hurrying

in, told Pierre the fearful commonplace story; slow ruin, the father

unable to find work, perchance taking to drink, the landlord weary of

waiting, threatening the family with expulsion, and the mother losing her

head, thirsting for death, and prevailing on her little ones to die with

her, while her husband, who had been out since the morning, was vainly

scouring the streets. Just as the Commissary of Police arrived to verify

what had happened, the poor devil returned, and when he had seen and

understood things, he fell to the ground like a stunned ox, and raised a

prolonged, plaintive howl, such a poignant cry of death that the whole

terrified street wept at it.

Both in his ears and in his heart Pierre carried away with him that

horrible cry, the plaint of a condemned race expiring amidst abandonment

and hunger; and that night he could neither eat nor sleep. Was it

possible that such abomination, such absolute destitution, such black

misery leading straight to death should exist in the heart of that great

city of Paris, brimful of wealth, intoxicated with enjoyment, flinging

millions out of the windows for mere pleasure? What! there should on one

side be such colossal fortunes, so many foolish fancies gratified, with

lives endowed with every happiness, whilst on the other was found

inveterate poverty, lack even of bread, absence of every hope, and

mothers killing themselves with their babes, to whom they had nought to

offer but the blood of their milkless breast! And a feeling of revolt

stirred Pierre; he was for a moment conscious of the derisive futility of

charity. What indeed was the use of doing that which he did--picking up

the little ones, succouring the parents, prolonging the sufferings of the

aged? The very foundations of the social edifice were rotten; all would

soon collapse amid mire and blood. A great act of justice alone could

sweep the old world away in order that the new world might be built. And

at that moment he realised so keenly how irreparable was the breach, how

irremediable the evil, how deathly the cancer of misery, that he

understood the actions of the violent, and was himself ready to accept

the devastating and purifying whirlwind, the regeneration of the world by

flame and steel, even as when in the dim ages Jehovah in His wrath sent

fire from heaven to cleanse the accursed cities of the plains.

However, on hearing him sob that evening, Abbe Rose came up to

remonstrate in fatherly fashion. The old priest was a saint, endowed with

infinite gentleness and infinite hope. Why despair indeed when one had

the Gospel? Did not the divine commandment, "Love one another," suffice

for the salvation of the world? He, Abbe Rose, held violence in horror

and was wont to say that, however great the evil, it would soon be

overcome if humanity would but turn backward to the age of humility,

simplicity, and purity, when Christians lived together in innocent

brotherhood. What a delightful picture he drew of evangelical society, of

whose second coming he spoke with quiet gaiety as though it were to take

place on the very morrow! And Pierre, anxious to escape from his

frightful recollections, ended by smiling, by taking pleasure in Abbe

Rose's bright consoling tale. They chatted until a late hour, and on the

following days reverted to the same subject of conversation, one which

the old priest was very fond of, ever supplying new particulars, and

speaking of the approaching reign of love and justice with the touching

confidence of a good if simple man, who is convinced that he will not die

till he shall have seen the Deity descend upon earth.

And now a fresh evolution took place in Pierre's mind. The practice of

benevolence in that poor district had developed infinite compassion in

his breast, his heart failed him, distracted, rent by contemplation of

the misery which he despaired of healing. And in this awakening of his

feelings he often thought that his reason was giving way, he seemed to be

retracing his steps towards childhood, to that need of universal love

which his mother had implanted in him, and dreamt of chimerical

solutions, awaiting help from the unknown powers. Then his fears, his

hatred of the brutality of facts at last brought him an increasing desire

to work salvation by love. No time should be lost in seeking to avert the

frightful catastrophe which seemed inevitable, the fratricidal war of

classes which would sweep the old world away beneath the accumulation of

its crimes. Convinced that injustice had attained its apogee, that but

little time remained before the vengeful hour when the poor would compel

the rich to part with their possessions, he took pleasure in dreaming of

a peaceful solution, a kiss of peace exchanged by all men, a return to

the pure morals of the Gospel as it had been preached by Jesus.

Doubts tortured him at the outset. Could olden Catholicism be

rejuvenated, brought back to the youth and candour of primitive

Christianity? He set himself to study things, reading and questioning,

and taking a more and more passionate interest in that great problem of

Catholic socialism which had made no little noise for some years past.

And quivering with pity for the wretched, ready as he was for the miracle

of fraternisation, he gradually lost such scruples as intelligence might

have prompted, and persuaded himself that once again Christ would work

the redemption of suffering humanity. At last a precise idea took

possession of him, a conviction that Catholicism purified, brought back

to its original state, would prove the one pact, the supreme law that

might save society by averting the sanguinary crisis which threatened it.

When he had quitted Lourdes two years previously, revolted by all its

gross idolatry, his faith for ever dead, but his mind worried by the

everlasting need of the divine which tortures human creatures, a cry had

arisen within him from the deepest recesses of his being: "A new

religion! a new religion!" And it was this new religion, or rather this

revived religion which he now fancied he had discovered in his desire to

work social salvation--ensuring human happiness by means of the only

moral authority that was erect, the distant outcome of the most admirable

implement ever devised for the government of nations.

During the period of slow development through which Pierre passed, two

men, apart from Abbe Rose, exercised great influence on him. A benevolent

action brought him into intercourse with Monseigneur Bergerot, a bishop

whom the Pope had recently created a cardinal, in reward for a whole life

of charity, and this in spite of the covert opposition of the papal

_curia_ which suspected the French prelate to be a man of open mind,

governing his diocese in paternal fashion. Pierre became more impassioned

by his intercourse with this apostle, this shepherd of souls, in whom he

detected one of the good simple leaders that he desired for the future

community. However, his apostolate was influenced even more decisively by

meeting Viscount Philibert de la Choue at the gatherings of certain

workingmen's Catholic associations. A handsome man, with military

manners, and a long noble-looking face, spoilt by a small and broken nose

which seemed to presage the ultimate defeat of a badly balanced mind, the

Viscount was one of the most active agitators of Catholic socialism in

France. He was the possessor of vast estates, a vast fortune, though it

was said that some unsuccessful agricultural enterprises had already

reduced his wealth by nearly one-half. In the department where his

property was situated he had been at great pains to establish model

farms, at which he had put his ideas on Christian socialism into

practice, but success did not seem to follow him. However, it had all

helped to secure his election as a deputy, and he spoke in the Chamber,

unfolding the programme of his party in long and stirring speeches.

Unwearying in his ardour, he also led pilgrimages to Rome, presided over

meetings, and delivered lectures, devoting himself particularly to the

people, the conquest of whom, so he privately remarked, could alone

ensure the triumph of the Church. And thus he exercised considerable

influence over Pierre, who in him admired qualities which himself did not

possess--an organising spirit and a militant if somewhat blundering will,

entirely applied to the revival of Christian society in France. However,

though the young priest learnt a good deal by associating with him, he

nevertheless remained a sentimental dreamer, whose imagination,

disdainful of political requirements, straightway winged its flight to

the future abode of universal happiness; whereas the Viscount aspired to

complete the downfall of the liberal ideas of 1789 by utilising the

disillusion and anger of the democracy to work a return towards the past.

Pierre spent some delightful months. Never before had neophyte lived so

entirely for the happiness of others. He was all love, consumed by the

passion of his apostolate. The sight of the poor wretches whom he

visited, the men without work, the women, the children without bread,

filled him with a keener and keener conviction that a new religion must

arise to put an end to all the injustice which otherwise would bring the

rebellious world to a violent death. And he was resolved to employ all

his strength in effecting and hastening the intervention of the divine,

the resuscitation of primitive Christianity. His Catholic faith remained

dead; he still had no belief in dogmas, mysteries, and miracles; but a

hope sufficed him, the hope that the Church might still work good, by

connecting itself with the irresistible modern democratic movement, so as

to save the nations from the social catastrophe which impended. His soul

had grown calm since he had taken on himself the mission of replanting

the Gospel in the hearts of the hungry and growling people of the

Faubourgs. He was now leading an active life, and suffered less from the

frightful void which he had brought back from Lourdes; and as he no

longer questioned himself, the anguish of uncertainty no longer tortured

him. It was with the serenity which attends the simple accomplishment of

duty that he continued to say his mass. He even finished by thinking that

the mystery which he thus celebrated--indeed, that all the mysteries and

all the dogmas were but symbols--rites requisite for humanity in its

childhood, which would be got rid of later on, when enlarged, purified,

and instructed humanity should be able to support the brightness of naked

truth.

And in his zealous desire to be useful, his passion to proclaim his

belief aloud, Pierre one morning found himself at his table writing a

book. This had come about quite naturally; the book proceeded from him

like a heart-cry, without any literary idea having crossed his mind. One

night, whilst he lay awake, its title suddenly flashed before his eyes in

the darkness: "NEW ROME." That expressed everything, for must not the new

redemption of the nations originate in eternal and holy Rome? The only

existing authority was found there; rejuvenescence could only spring from

the sacred soil where the old Catholic oak had grown. He wrote his book

in a couple of months, having unconsciously prepared himself for the work

by his studies in contemporary socialism during a year past. There was a

bubbling flow in his brain as in a poet's; it seemed to him sometimes as

if he dreamt those pages, as if an internal distant voice dictated them

to him.

When he read passages written on the previous day to Viscount Philibert

de la Choue, the latter often expressed keen approval of them from a

practical point of view, saying that one must touch the people in order

to lead them, and that it would also be a good plan to compose pious and

yet amusing songs for singing in the workshops. As for Monseigneur

Bergerot, without examining the book from the dogmatic standpoint, he was

deeply touched by the glowing breath of charity which every page exhaled,

and was even guilty of the imprudence of writing an approving letter to

the author, which letter he authorised him to insert in his work by way

of preface. And yet now the Congregation of the Index Expurgatorius was

about to place this book, issued in the previous June, under interdict;

and it was to defend it that the young priest had hastened to Rome,

inflamed by the desire to make his ideas prevail, and resolved to plead

his cause in person before the Holy Father, having, he was convinced of

it, simply given expression to the pontiff's views.

Pierre had not stirred whilst thus living his three last years afresh: he

still stood erect before the parapet, before Rome, which he had so often

dreamt of and had so keenly desired to see. There was a constant

succession of arriving and departing vehicles behind him; the slim

Englishmen and the heavy Germans passed away after bestowing on the

classic view the five minutes prescribed by their guidebooks; whilst the

driver and the horse of Pierre's cab remained waiting complacently, each

with his head drooping under the bright sun, which was heating the valise

on the seat of the vehicle. And Pierre, in his black cassock, seemed to

have grown slimmer and elongated, very slight of build, as he stood there

motionless, absorbed in the sublime spectacle. He had lost flesh after

his journey to Lourdes, his features too had become less pronounced.