Thunders of acclamation followed. When they were calm, the monk who always spoke said,—
“The proposition of Brother la Hurière, whom the union thanks for his zeal, will be taken into consideration by the superior council.”
La Hurière bowed, amidst fresh applause.
“Ah! ah!” thought Chicot, “I begin to see clearly into all this. The Guises are forming a nice little party, and some fine morning Henri will find that he has nothing left, and will be politely invited to enter a monastery. But what will they do with the Duc d’Anjou?”
“Brother Gorenflot,” then cried the monk.
No one replied.
“Brother Gorenflot,” cried the little monk, in a voice which made Chicot start; for it sounded like a woman’s. However, he rose, and speaking like the monk, said,—
“Here I am; I was plunged in profound meditation.” He feared not to reply, for the members had been counted, and therefore the absence of a member would have provoked an examination. Therefore, without hesitation, he mounted the chair and began.
“My brothers, you know that I purvey for the convent, and have the right of entering every dwelling. I use this privilege for the good of religion. My brothers,” continued he, remembering Gorenflot’s beginning, “this day, which unites us, is a good one for the faith. Let us speak freely, my brothers, since we are in the house of God.
“What is the kingdom of France? A body. ‘Omnis civitas corpus est.’ What is the first requisite of a body? Good health. How do we preserve this? By prudent bleedings at times. Now it is evident that the enemies of our religion are too strong; we must therefore once more bleed that great body we call society. This is what is constantly said to me by the faithful, who give me ham, eggs, or money for the convent.”