never have I been in such need of it. Just imagine, Monsieur l’Abbé, I have to teach my guardian angel his catechism all over again, for he has quite forgotten it!”
Monsieur l’Abbé Patouille heaved a deep sigh, and exhorted his dear child to pray, there being no other resource but prayer for a soul assailed by the Devil.
“Monsieur l’Abbé,” asked Maurice, “may I introduce my guardian angel to you? Do stay a moment; he has gone to get me some cigarettes.”
“Unhappy child!”
And Abbé Patouille’s fat cheeks drooped in token of affliction. But almost immediately they plumped up again, as a sign of light-heartedness. For in his heart there was matter for rejoicing. Public opinion was improving. The Jacobins, the Freemasons, the Coalitionists were everywhere in disgrace. The Smart Set led the way. The Académie Française was of the right way of thinking. The number of Christian schools was increasing by leaps and bounds. The young men of the Quartier Latin were submitting to the Church, and the École Normale exhaled the perfume of the seminary. The Cross was gaining the day; but money was wanted,—more money, always money.
After six weeks’ rest, Maurice was allowed by his doctor to take a drive. He wore his arm in
