"But if I go to him without forgiveness in my heart; if only my lips
speak?"
"It is in your heart; you have only to look for it."
"Ah well, I will go with you. It is a cup of gall to drink, but I will
drink it. If he is dying . . . Well, I will play the part; but God is
witness that there is no charity in my heart, nor forgiveness, for he
has wilfully spoiled my life."
So the two men moved off toward the marquis's bed-chamber.
"You remain in the hall, Monsieur," said the priest, "till I call you."
But as he entered the chamber he purposely left open the door so that
the Chevalier might hear what passed.
"Ah! it is you," said the marquis. "Let me thank you for bringing that
nurse."
"Sister Benie?"
"Yes. You do not know, then, from what family she originated?"
"No, Monsieur."
"Who knows?"
"The Mother Superior. Monsieur, I have news for you. I bring you
peace."
"Peace?"
"Yes. Monsieur, your son is willing to testify that he forgives you
the wrong you have done him."
The marquis shook as with ague and drew the coverlet to his chin. A
minute went by, and another. The Chevalier listened, waiting for his
father's voice to break the silence. After all, he could forgive.
"Have you anything to say, Monsieur ?" asked Brother Jacques.
The marquis stirred and drew his hand across his lips. "Where is
Monsieur le Comte?"
"He is waiting in the hall. Shall I call . . . ?"
"Wait!" interrupted the marquis. Presently he cleared his throat and
said in a thin, dry voice: "Tell Monsieur le Comte for me that I am
sleeping and may not be disturbed."
"Monsieur," said Jehan that night, "pardon, but do you ever . . . do
you ever think of Margot Bourdaloue?"
The marquis raised himself as though to hurl a curse at his luckless
servant. But all he said was; "Sometimes, Jehan, sometimes!"