"Let us say no more about it," he resumed, eating the fruit with an avidity which told of his inward fire. "When am I--"

"No, no! say nothing of that before me!" said the mother.

"But I should be easier in mind if I knew," he said, in a low voice to the rector.

"Always the same nature," exclaimed Monsieur Bonnet. Then he bent down to the prisoner's ear and whispered, "If you will reconcile yourself this night with G.o.d so that your repentance will enable me to absolve you, it will be to-morrow. We have already gained much in calming you,"

he said, aloud.

Hearing these last words, Jean's lips turned pale, his eyes rolled up in a violent spasm, and an angry shudder pa.s.sed through his frame.

"Am I calm?" he asked himself. Happily his eyes encountered the tearful face of Denise, and he recovered his self-control. "So be it," he said to the rector; "there is no one but you to whom I would listen; they have known how to conquer me."

And he flung himself on his mother's breast.

"My son," said the mother, weeping, "listen to Monsieur Bonnet; he risks his life, the dear rector, in going to you to--" she hesitated, and then said, "to the gate of eternal life."

Then she kissed Jean's head and held it to her breast for some moments.

"Will he, indeed, go with me?" asked Jean, looking at the rector, who bowed his head in a.s.sent. "Well, yes, I will listen to him; I will do all he asks of me."

"You promise it?" said Denise. "The saving of your soul is what we seek. Besides, you would not have all Limoges and the village say that a Tascheron knows not how to die a n.o.ble death? And then, too, think that all you lose here you will regain in heaven, where pardoned souls will meet again."

This superhuman effort parched the throat of the heroic girl. She was silent after this, like her mother, but she had triumphed. The criminal, furious at seeing his happiness torn from him by the law, now quivered at the sublime Catholic truth so simply expressed by his sister. All women, even young peasant-women like Denise, know how to touch these delicate chords; for does not every woman seek to make love eternal?

Denise had touched two chords, each most sensitive. Awakened pride called on the other virtues chilled by misery and hardened by despair.

Jean took his sister's hand and kissed it, and laid it on his heart in a deeply significant manner; he applied it both gently and forcibly.

"Yes," he said, "I must renounce all; this is the last beating of my heart, its last thought. Keep them, Denise."

And he gave her one of those glances by which a man in crucial moments tries to put his soul into the soul of another human being.

This thought, this word, was, in truth, a last testament, an unspoken legacy, to be as faithfully transmitted as it was trustfully given. It was so fully understood by mother, sister, and priest, that they all with one accord turned their faces from each other, to hide their tears and keep the secret of their thoughts in their own b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Those few words were the dying agony of a pa.s.sion, the farewell of a soul to the glorious things of earth, in accordance with true Catholic renunciation.

The rector, comprehending the majesty of all great human things, even criminal things, judged of this mysterious pa.s.sion by the enormity of the sin. He raised his eyes to heaven as if to invoke the mercy of G.o.d.

Thence come the consolations, the infinite tendernesses of the Catholic religion,--so humane, so gentle with the hand that descends to man, showing him the law of higher spheres; so awful, so divine, with that other hand held out to lead him into heaven.

Denise had now significantly shown the rector the spot by which to strike that rock and make the waters of repentance flow. But suddenly, as though the memories evoked were dragging him backwards, Jean-Francois gave the harrowing cry of the hyena when the hunters overtake it.

"No, no!" he cried, falling on his knees, "I will live! Mother, give me your clothes; I can escape! Mercy, mercy! Go see the king; tell him--"

He stopped, gave a horrible roar, and clung convulsively to the rector's ca.s.sock.

"Go," said Monsieur Bonnet, in a low voice, to the agitated women.

Jean heard the words; he raised his head, gazed at his mother and sister, then he stopped and kissed their feet.

"Let us say farewell now; do not come back; leave me alone with Monsieur Bonnet. You need not be uneasy about me any longer," he said, pressing his mother and his sister to him with a strength in which he seemed to put all his life.

"How is it we do not die of this?" said Denise to her mother as they pa.s.sed through the wicket.

It was nearly eight o'clock when this parting took place. At the gate of the prison the two women met the Abbe de Rastignac, who asked them news of the prisoner.

"He will no doubt be reconciled with G.o.d," said Denise. "If repentance has not yet begun, he is very near it."

The bishop was soon after informed that the clergy would triumph on this occasion, and that the criminal would go to the scaffold with the most edifying religious sentiments. The prelate, with whom was the attorney-general, expressed a wish to see the rector. Monsieur Bonnet did not reach the palace before midnight. The Abbe Gabriel, who made many trips between the palace and the jail, judged it necessary to fetch the rector in the episcopal coach; for the poor priest was in a state of exhaustion which almost deprived him of the use of his legs. The effect of his day, the prospect of the morrow, the sight of the secret struggle he had witnessed, and the full repentance which had at last overtaken his stubborn lamb when the great reckoning of eternity was brought home to him,--all these things had combined to break down Monsieur Bonnet, whose nervous, electrical nature entered into the sufferings of others as though they were his own. Souls that resemble that n.o.ble soul espouse so ardently the impressions, miseries, pa.s.sions, sufferings of those in whom they are interested, that they actually feel them, and in a horrible manner, too; for they are able to measure their extent,--a knowledge which escapes others who are blinded by selfishness of heart or the paroxysm of grief. It is here that a priest like Monsieur Bonnet becomes an artist who feels, rather than an artist who judges.

When the rector entered the bishop's salon and found there the two grand-vicars, the Abbe de Rastignac, Monsieur de Grandville, and the _procureur-general_, he felt convinced that something more was expected of him.

"Monsieur," said the bishop, "have you obtained any facts which you can, without violating your duty, confide to the officers of the law for their guidance?"

"Monseigneur, in order to give absolution to that poor, wandering child, I waited not only till his repentance was as sincere and as complete as the Church could wish, but I have also exacted from him the rest.i.tution of the money."

"This rest.i.tution," said the _procureur-general_, "brings me here to-night; it will, of course, be made in such a way as to throw light on the mysterious parts of this affair. The criminal certainly had accomplices."

"The interests of human justice," said the rector, "are not those for which I act. I am ignorant of how the rest.i.tution will be made, but I know it will take place. In sending for me to minister to my parishioner, Monseigneur placed me under the conditions which give to rectors in their parishes the same powers which Monseigneur exercises in his diocese,--barring, of course, all questions of discipline and ecclesiastical obedience."

"That is true," said the bishop. "But the question here is how to obtain from the condemned man voluntary information which may enlighten justice."

"My mission is to win souls to G.o.d," said Monsieur Bonnet.

Monsieur de Grancour shrugged his shoulders slightly, but his colleague, the Abbe Dutheil nodded his head in sign of approval.

"Tascheron is no doubt endeavoring to shield some one, whom the rest.i.tution will no doubt bring to light," said the _procureur-general_.

"Monsieur," replied the rector, "I know absolutely nothing which would either confute or justify your suspicion. Besides, the secrets of confession are inviolable."

"Will the rest.i.tution really take place?" asked the man of law.

"Yes, monsieur," replied the man of G.o.d.

"That is enough for me," said the _procureur-general_, who relied on the police to obtain the required information; as if pa.s.sions and personal interests were not tenfold more astute than the police.

The next day, this being market-day, Jean-Francois Tascheron was led to execution in a manner to satisfy both the pious and the political spirits of the town. Exemplary in behavior, pious and humble, he kissed the crucifix, which Monsieur Bonnet held to his lips with a trembling hand. The unhappy man was watched and examined; his glance was particularly spied upon; would his eyes rove in search of some one in the crowd or in a house? His discretion did, as a matter of fact, hold firm to the last. He died as a Christian should, repentant and absolved.

The poor rector was carried away unconscious from the foot of the scaffold, though he did not even see the fatal knife.

During the following night, on the high-road fifteen miles from Limoges, Denise, though nearly exhausted by fatigue and grief, begged her father to let her go again to Limoges and take with her Louis-Marie Tascheron, one of her brothers.

"What more have you to do in that town?" asked her father, frowning.

"Father," she said, "not only must we pay the lawyer who defended him, but we must also restore the money which he has hidden."

"You are right," said the honest man, pulling out a leathern pouch he carried with him.

"No, no," said Denise, "he is no longer your son. It is not for those who cursed him, but for those who loved him, to reward the lawyer."

"We will wait for you at Havre," said the father.

Denise and her brother returned to Limoges before daylight. When the police heard, later, of this return they were never able to discover where the brother and sister had hidden themselves.

Denise and Louis went to the upper town cautiously, about four o'clock that afternoon, gliding along in the shadow of the houses. The poor girl dared not raise her eyes, fearing to meet the glances of those who had seen her brother's execution. After calling on Monsieur Bonnet, who in spite of his weakness, consented to serve as father and guardian to Denise in the matter, they all went to the lawyer's house in the rue de la Comedie.