"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

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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!"




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