He was a man between sixty-six and sixty-eight years of age, little, rather stout, with gray hair and light eyes. His countenance denoted the struggle between two opposite principles -- a wicked nature, subdued by determination, perhaps by repentance.
He started on seeing the cavalier with the curate. The latter and the coadjutor touched the brush with the tips of their fingers and made the sign of the cross; the coadjutor threw a piece of money into the hat, which was on the ground.
"Maillard," began the curate, "this gentleman and I have come to talk with you a little."
"With me!" said the mendicant; "it is a great honor for a poor distributor of holy water."
There was an ironical tone in his voice which he could not quite disguise and which astonished the coadjutor.
"Yes," continued the curate, apparently accustomed to this tone, "yes, we wish to know your opinion of the events of to-day and what you have heard said by people going in and out of the church."
The mendicant shook his head.
"These are melancholy doings, your reverence, which always fall again upon the poor. As to what is said, everybody is discontented, everybody complains, but `everybody' means `nobody.'"
"Explain yourself, my good friend," said the coadjutor.
"I mean that all these cries, all these complaints, these curses, produce nothing but storms and flashes and that is all; but the lightning will not strike until there is a hand to guide it."
"My friend," said Gondy, "you seem to be a clever and a thoughtful man; are you disposed to take a part in a little civil war, should we have one, and put at the command of the leader, should we find one, your personal influence and the influence you have acquired over your comrades?"
"Yes, sir, provided this war were approved of by the church and would advance the end I wish to attain -- I mean, the remission of my sins."
"The war will not only be approved of, but directed by the church. As for the remission of your sins, we have the archbishop of Paris, who has the very greatest power at the court of Rome, and even the coadjutor, who possesses some plenary indulgences; we will recommend you to him."
"Consider, Maillard," said the curate, "that I have recommended you to this gentleman, who is a powerful lord, and that I have made myself responsible for you."
"I know, monsieur le cure," said the beggar, "that you have always been very kind to me, and therefore I, in my turn, will be serviceable to you."
"And do you think your power as great with the fraternity as monsieur le cure told me it was just now?"
"I think they have some esteem for me," said the mendicant with pride, "and that not only will they obey me, but wherever I go they will follow me."
"And could you count on fifty resolute men, good, unemployed, but active souls, brawlers, capable of bringing down the walls of the Palais Royal by crying, `Down with Mazarin,' as fell those at Jericho?"
"I think," said the beggar, "I can undertake things more difficult and more important than that."
"Ah, ah," said Gondy, "you will undertake, then, some night, to throw up some ten barricades?"
"I will undertake to throw up fifty, and when the day comes, to defend them."
"I'faith!" exclaimed Gondy, "you speak with a certainty that gives me pleasure; and since monsieur le cure can answer for you ---- "
"I answer for him," said the curate.
"Here is a bag containing five hundred pistoles in gold; make all your arrangements, and tell me where I shall be able to find you this evening at ten o'clock."
"It must be on some elevated place, whence a given signal may be seen in every part of Paris."
"Shall I give you a line for the vicar of St. Jacques de la Boucherie? he will let you into the rooms in his tower," said the curate.
"Capital," answered the mendicant.
"Then," said the coadjutor, "this evening, at ten o'clock, and if I am pleased with you another bag of five hundred pistoles will be at your disposal."
The eyes of the mendicant dashed with cupidity, but he quickly suppressed his emotion.
"This evening, sir," he replied, "all will be ready."
