Madame de Salgues stirred uneasily in her chair. “My dear young friend,” she exclaimed in a slightly irritable tone, “do you not see that is as much as to say that if a man takes a purse of gold from the hands of a robber, he is at liberty to give it to whom he pleases? Not so;—he must restore it to its owner, else he himself is a robber also.”
Ivan had a dim perception of the fact that France did not belong to the Bourbons in at all the same sense that a purse of gold belongs to its owner, but it was scarcely clear enough to express in words; and had it been otherwise, courtesy would have admonished him to decline an argument with his hostess. So he dexterously changed the subject; and Madame de Salgues afterwards observed to her niece, “That young man is certainly very well bred, and a perfect gentleman. But I fear his principles are rather unsettled. I hope he will not influence Emile.”
Madame de Talmont could not suppress a quiet smile at the idea of the scapegrace Emile suffering contamination from Ivan. As days passed on, the young Russian proved a very pleasant addition to the little household, and brightly and swiftly the period of his convalescence glided by. When the weather improved, he often sat in a summer-house in Madame de Salgues’ little garden; and here the ladies would bring their embroidery and bear him company, or comrades from the city would come to visit him.
He had one visit from Michael, who was fêted and made much of by the De Talmonts for Henri’s sake. He said afterwards to Ivan, “Who would have thought French people could be so good and gentle? May the Virgin bless the young lady’s sweet face! If she would just get one of our priests to baptize her into the true orthodox faith, I should like well enough to see you lead her up the church, a little farther than the font, Barrinka. I think she is almost good enough.”
“Hold thy peace, Michael!” cried Ivan, half pleased, half angry, and blushing deeply. “How little you understand! I am not good enough to kiss her feet, or to take up the glove she has dropped and give it back to her.”
At an early stage of their acquaintance Ivan discovered Clémence’s little store of theological books, and asked leave to study them. It was now nearly a year and a half since he had begun to read his Bible with attention and interest; but books about religion were still quite new to him. He began their study eagerly, hoping to find a solution for some difficulties which had occurred to him; but, instead of this, fresh perplexities were awakened in his mind. He found that he had plunged into a labyrinth of words and ideas absolutely strange to him. It is true that the shallow scepticism of his youth had long since given place to the only real belief he ever knew. The flames of Moscow, the study of the New Testament, the living faith of the man whom he supremely admired and venerated, had been God’s way of leading him into a simple, child-like dependence upon Himself, and a genuine desire to serve and follow Him. But of the deeper mysteries of spiritual experience he was still almost wholly ignorant.
One afternoon Madame de Salgues was slumbering in her easy-chair, and Madame de Talmont had been called away; so he found himself practically alone with Clémence. The opportunity was too precious to be lost. He took from his pocket a little book, “Les Pensées de Pascal,” which he had been studying with deep and rather mystified attention. Showing her a passage her own hand had marked carefully, line by line, he asked,—
“Mademoiselle, what does that mean? I confess I cannot understand it.”
She read—“‘I see my abyss of pride, of curiosity, of sin. There is no connection between me and God, or the holy Jesus Christ. But he has been made sin for me; by his wounds we are healed. He has healed himself, and therefore assuredly he will heal me. I must place my wounds upon his, must give myself to him, and he will save me with himself.’”
Clémence paused a while. “I think it means,” she said at last very reverently, “that the Lord Jesus Christ has taken our sins upon him, and put himself in our place. We should be quite overwhelmed when we come to see the ‘abyss’ of sin that is within us, if we did not know he had done so. But he has taken our sin and bound it about him like a robe, that we may take his righteousness and stand before the Father robed in that.” This, however, was a height beyond the range of her own ordinary spiritual experience. So she added presently, with an involuntary sigh, “If only we are numbered amongst his redeemed.”