"
He closed the Testament, and being thoroughly fatigued in body as
well as mind, he at last retired. Lying down contentedly upon the
hard and narrow bed which was the best the inn provided, he murmured
his usual prayer,--"If this should be the sleep of death, Jesus
receive my soul!"--and remained for a little while with his eyes
open, looking at the white glory of the moonlight as it poured
through his lattice window and formed delicate traceries of silver
luminance on the bare wooden floor. He could just see the dark
towers of Notre Dame from where he lay,--a black mass in the
moonbeams--a monument of half-forgotten history--a dream of
centuries, hallowed or blasphemed by the prayers and aspirations of
dead and gone multitudes who had appealed to the incarnate God-in-
Man before its altars. God-in-Man had been made manifest!--how long
would, the world have to wait before Man-in-God was equally created
and declared? For that was evidently intended to be the final
triumph of the Christian creed.
"We should have gained such a victory long ago," mused Cardinal
Bonpre--"only that we ourselves have set up stumbling-blocks, and
rejected God at every step of the way."
Closing his eyes he soon slept; the rays of the moon fell upon his
pale face and silvery hair like a visible radiant benediction,--and
the bells of the city chimed the hours loudly and softly, clanging
in every direction, without waking him from his rest.
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