Babette put her finger in her mouth and looked
incredulous. She had a vague belief in angels,--but Henri, with the
cheap cynicism of the modern French lad was anything but sure about
them.
"Mother," said he, "There's a boy in our school who says there is no
God at all, and that it's no use having priests or Cardinals or
Cathedrals,--it's all rubbish and humbug!"
"Poor little miserable monster!" exclaimed Madame Patoux, as she
peered into the pot where the soup for the Cardinal's supper was
simmering--"He is arranging himself to become a thief or a murderer,
be sure of that, Henri!--and thou, who art trained in all thy holy
duties by the good Pere Laurent, who teaches thee everything which
the school is not wise enough to teach, ought never to listen to
such wickedness. If there were no God, we should not be alive at
all, thou foolish child!--for it is only our blessed Saviour and the
saints that keep the world going."
Henri was silent,--Babette looked at him and made a little grimace
of scorn.
"If the Cardinal is a saint," she said--"he should be able to
perform a miracle. The little Fabien Doucet has been lame for seven
years; we shall bring him to Monseigneur, and he will mend his leg
and make him well.
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