Possibly the priest thought age conferred privilege. He was also probably impulsive, and like all similar people often said and did the wrong thing. But he was evidently actuated by a pure spirit of philanthropy, which would set the world to rights if it could accomplish the impossible. Looking earnestly at us, he spoke, and then we found he was a Frenchman.
"Monsieur," he said in his own tongue, "that is a most insidious beverage, fatal to digestion, destructive to the nerves. If I see any one repeating the dose, at the risk of being thought indiscreet, I cannot avoid speaking. When I count up to the fourth cup, I feel they are in jeopardy. And shall I tell you why?--I speak from experience. I once myself was nearly overcome by the fatal basilisk, only that in my case it was strong waters without coffee more often than with it. For a time it was a question which should conquer, the tempter or the better nature. Then came a period in which I was wretched and miserable, yielding and fighting alternately. Finally, I made a greater effort, and vowed that if strength were given me to overcome, I would dedicate my life to the Church. Soon after that I fell ill; sick almost unto death. Weeks and months passed and I recovered to find the temptation vanished; hating the very sight of brandy, with coffee or without. Mindful of my vow--I was a young man at the time--I took steps to enter the Church; and here I am. And now, sir, forgive me for saying so much about myself, and for preaching a little sermon taken from real life, though time and place are perhaps not quite fitted to the occasion."
We forgave him on the spot. His intentions were excellent, his sympathies keen; two admirable qualities. We assured him that strong waters were no temptation, held no charm; yet twice four cups had been taken if needed.
The good priest shook his head doubtfully.
"A dangerous remedy, monsieur. But, now, I am interested in you. I like the amiable manner in which you have received my little homily. Many would take fire and proudly tell me to mind my own business. You arouse my sympathies and invite my confidence. Let me confess that I placed myself here to enter into conversation. Mine has been a singular life, both since I entered the Church and before it: full of lessons. If before retiring to-night you should have an hour to spare and will give it me, I will relate to you passages in a very eventful career. You will say it contains many marvels. However late, it will not be too late for me. I never retire to bed before three in the morning, and am always broad awake at seven. Four hours' sleep in the twenty-four is all nature ever accords me. I have reason to believe that I shall be offered the next vacant See in the Church: I could place my finger upon the very spot: and my wakeful nights will enable me to do much work. Let me hope that wisdom and judgment may be accorded. But what am I doing?" drawing himself up. "Talking as though I had known you for a lifetime; giving you my confidence, betraying my secrets! What power are you exercising? What does it mean? Sir, you must be a hypnotist, and I have fallen into your meshes. Yet, no; I feel I am not mesmerised, and you are to be trusted. Yes, I repeat that if you will give me an hour this evening, though it be the dead of night, I will confide strange experiences to your ear that until now have been locked within my own bosom. And why not? My life is my own; I have a right to withhold or disclose what pleases me."