“I know it.”
“If I die before the marquis, to whom can I confide them?” The old man sat up and pointed to a key hanging at the head of his bed. “You will take that key, you will open the closet—in it you will find a casket. You are a man of honor. Swear to me that you will not open that casket until the marquis shall be dead.”
“I swear it,” said Paul solemnly, and extending his hand towards the crucifix hanging at the head of the bed.
“‘Tis well,” replied Achard; “now I shall die in peace.”
“You may do so, for the son holds your hand in this world, and the father stretches out his towards you from heaven!”
“Do you believe, my child, that he will be satisfied with my fidelity?”
“No king was ever so faithfully obeyed during life, as he has been since his death.”
“Yes,” murmured the old man, in a gloomy tone, “I was but too exact in following his orders. I ought not to have suffered the duel to have taken place; I ought to have refused attending it as a witness. Hear me, Paul; it is this that I wished to have said to a priest, for it is the only thing that weighs upon my conscience: listen: there have been moments of doubt, during which, I have regarded this solitary duel as an assassination. In that case, Paul, oh! in that case, I have not only been a witness, but an accomplice!”
“Oh! my second father,” replied Paul, “I know not whether the laws of earth are always in accordance with the laws of heaven, and whether honor as it is considered by man, would be a virtue in the eyes of the Lord; I know not whether our holy church, an enemy to bloodshed, permits that the injured should attempt with his own hands, to avenge the wrongs inflicted upon him by attacking his injurer, and if in that case, the judgment of heaven directs the pistol ball or the sword’s point. These are questions not to be decided by reasoning, but by conscience. Well, then, my conscience tells me, that situated as you were, I should have done precisely as you did. Should conscience in this case mislead me, it also misled you, and in this view of the matter, I have a greater right than a priest, to absolve you; and in my name, and in that of my father, I pardon you.”
“Thanks! thanks!” cried the old man, pressing the hands of Paul; “thanks, for these words, pour consolation into the soul of a dying man. Remorse is a dreadful thing! remorse would lead one to believe that there exists no God. For without a judge there can be no judgment.”