While Freckle thought of these, it was
suggested to him that he was a very wicked man. The tuitions of his
patriarchal father came to mind; he was seen on his knees, to the
infinite amusement of the other debtors, who were, however, quite too
polite to laugh in his face, and he no longer staked his ration of wine
at cards, whereby he had commonly lost it, but held long conversations
with an ardent old priest who visited the jail. The priest gave Freckle
_breviaries_ and catechisms, and told him that there was no peace of
mind outside of the apostolic fold.
So Freckle diligently embraced the ancient Romish faith, renounced the
tenets of his plain old sire as false and heretical, and earnestly
prepared himself to enter the priesthood.
In this frame of mind he was found by Mr. Simp, who had unexpectedly
returned to Paris, and, finding himself again prosperous, came to
release Freckle from the toils of Clichy.
The latter waved him away. "I wish to know none of you," he said. "I
shall serve out this term, and never again speak to an American abroad."
He was firm, and achieved his purpose. Enthusiasm often answers for
brains, and Freckle's religious zeal made him a changed man. He entered
a Jesuits' school after his discharge, and in another fashion became as
stern, severe, and self-denying as had been his father.
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