“Somebody has been asking after you, Tournier.”
“Who was he?” but not the slightest curiosity was in the tone of enquiry.
“Our bishop.”
The interest fell lower, if possible.
“You mean the chaplain. What does he want?”
“To see you.”
Tournier was a gentleman, and therefore repressed the exclamation that was rising to his lips, and simply said, “Oh!” in a very languid sort of way.
But it was true. The chaplain to the prisoners had been asking after Tournier, expressing a very great desire to see him; and the Chaplain was none other than the Bishop of Moulines. He had voluntarily come to England, out of pure compassion for his imprisoned
countrymen; and with true missionary zeal was giving himself up to their spiritual welfare. He was a venerable-looking man, much respected by the prisoners generally. It was a noble act of self-sacrifice. [44]
But his work among the prisoners was no sinecure. Many of them were deeply tainted with the foul atheism engendered by the Revolution; many more with the practical atheism that comes of reckless living. Scenes of cruelty and depravity would occasionally take place, only too likely where a large number of men were left so much to themselves. Yet there were doubtless hundreds among them who, but for the demands of a most cruel war, would have been living the lives of peaceful, useful citizens. It may be, moreover, that