“Have you any intention of selling it?”
“I would, if it would please my bishop,” I replied.
“What is the price?” asked the bishop.
“Those who gave it to me paid $500 for it,” I replied.
“Oh! oh! that is too dear,” rejoined the bishop; “with five hundred dollars we can get five good horses. Two hundred would be enough.”
“Your lordship is joking. Were I as rich as I am poor, one thousand dollars would not take that noble animal from my hands, except to have it put in the carosse of my bishop.”
“Go and make a check for two hundred dollars to the order of Mr. Chiniquy,” said the bishop to his sub-secretary, Mr. Belisle.
When the secretary had gone to make the check, the bishop being alone with me, took from his portfeuille three bank bills of one hundred dollars each, and put them into my hands, saying: “This will make up your $500, when my secretary gives you the check. But please say nothing to anybody, not even to my secretary. I do not like to have my private affairs talked of around the corners of the streets. That horse is the most splendid I ever saw, and I am much obliged to you for having sold it to me.”
I was also very glad to have $500 in hand. For with $300 I could finish my school house, and there was $200 more to begin another, three miles distant.
Just two weeks later, when I was dressing myself at sunrise, my servant came to my room and said: “There are twenty men on horseback who want to speak to you.”