CHAPTER XVII.
The Effects of a Sermon.
ne Sunday, contrary to his habit, Frank betook himself to one of the country churches. He had several reasons for doing so. He wanted to hear a French sermon; he wanted to be quiet, away from the world, etcetera.
As he went on his way, he dropped into a none too pleasant reverie.
"What a queer animal man is," he thought; "what a study. It is true that 'the proper study of mankind is man.'
"But, the more one meditates on humanity, the more one becomes disgusted with its artificialness and bad taste. People flock after trifles, they are devoid of refinement, a conjuror will have an immense number of admirers, a third-rate music-hall will fill, even to suffocation, while the man of genius, unless he be rich, often remains unnoticed. He who produces most exquisite poetry, soaring high above his fellow countrymen, carrying them out of life's dusty ways into a pure atmosphere, dies of starvation in a garret."
He arrived at the church of St. ——. He entered the sanctuary and seated himself in a place from which he would be able to see the minister.
"This is a very comfortable position," he said to himself.