“You would suggest that I abdicate in favour of my cousin?” asked the Marquis.
“That is my meaning,” answered M. des Graves.
There was another long silence, while Gilbert, his head between his clenched hands, stared at his shoe buckles.
At last the priest left his place and came to him. His voice was changed, his face very sad. “My son,” he said, “I ask your forgiveness. It is because I love you that I have made myself speak thus to you. . . . Oh, believe me, if you could put aside your will, if you could only throw yourself upon the venture, it is not the intellectual difficulties that would keep you from the Divine embrace.”
And after a moment’s hesitation Château-Foix rose and took his hand. “As for forgiveness,” he said, “it is yours without the asking. It is all true. You may be right . . . I cannot tell . . . but the path you bid me tread is too steep. You ask me to put from me the traditions of a lifetime, and it is too late. I cannot.”
“‘Whosoever will come after Me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow Me,’” said the priest. “. . . ‘For that shall bring a man peace at the last,’” he added, almost to himself, as he turned and went slowly out of the room.
CHAPTER XXXVII
“CHILDE ROLAND TO THE DARK TOWER CAME”
“To the little red house by the river
I came when the short night fell.
I broke the web for ever,