The priest smiled. “My young friend,” said he, “those days have passed; neither religion nor friendship requires of her votaries sacrifices of blood. But make yourself easy; whenever I ask of you what offends your conscience, even in a punctilio, refuse my request. With this exception, what say you?”
“That I think I will agree to the bond: but, father, I am an irresolute person; I must have time to consider.”
“Be it so. To-morrow, having surrendered my charge to your uncle, I depart for France.”
“For France!” said I; “and how? Surely the war will prevent your passage.”
The priest smiled. Nothing ever displeased me more than that priest’s smile. “The ecclesiastics,” said he, “are the ambassadors of Heaven, and have nothing to do with the wars of earth. I shall find no difficulty in crossing the Channel. I shall not return for several months, perhaps not till the expiration of a year: I leave you, till then, to decide upon the terms I have proposed to you. Meanwhile, gratify my vanity by employing my power; name some commission in France which you wish me to execute.”
“I can think of none,—yet, stay;” and I felt some curiosity to try the power of which he boasted,—“I have read that kings are blest with a most accommodating memory, and perfectly forget their favourites when they can be no longer useful. You will see, perhaps, if my father’s name has become a Gothic and unknown sound at the court of the Great King. I confess myself curious to learn this, though I can have no personal interest in it.”
“Enough, the commission shall be done. And now, my child, Heaven bless you! and send you many such friends as the humble priest, who, whatever be his failings, has, at least, the merit of wishing to serve those whom he loves.”
So saying, the priest closed the door. Sinking into a revery, as his footsteps died upon my ear, I muttered to myself: “Well, well, my sage ecclesiastic, the game is not over yet; let us see if, at sixteen, we cannot shuffle cards, and play tricks with the gamester of thirty. Yet he may be in earnest, and faith I believe he is; but I must look well before I leap, or consign my actions into such spiritual keeping. However, if the worst come to the worst, if I do make this compact, and am deceived,—if, above all, I am ever seduced, or led blindfold into one of those snares which priestcraft sometimes lays to the cost of honour,—why, I shall have a sword, which I shall never be at a loss to use, and it can find its way through a priest’s gown as well as a soldier’s corselet.”
Confess that a youth who could think so promptly of his sword was well fitted to wear one!