"She knows everything, monseigneur, that you would have her know, although she has not heard the confession of John Scott, which has just been made to you. She knows everything by means of the agencies I set to work to investigate the truth. And she knows that you will forgive her, through the intuitions of her own spirit."
"When can I see her, madam? Oh, when?" exclaimed the young duke, rising impatiently.
"This moment, if you please. She is expecting you. Follow me, monseigneur," said the abbess, rising and leading the way through the broad hall that stretched between the wicket room and the lady-superior's parlor.
When they reached the place, the abbess said:
"Enter, monseigneur. You will find the duchess alone, within."
And she opened the door and admitted him, then closed it behind him, and paced slowly away from the spot.
As the duke advanced into the room, so silently that his footsteps were unheard, he saw his wife sitting within the recess of the solitary window. She wore a simple dress of black serge, with a white collar and white cuffs, such as she had worn ever since her entrance into the convent. Her head was turned toward the window and bowed upon her hand in an attitude of meditation. She neither saw nor heard the soft approach of the duke. He stood gazing on her with infinite pity, for a moment, and then laying his hand gently on her shoulder, whispered:
"Salome!"
She started up with a wild cry of joy! She would have sank down at his feet, but he caught her to his bosom, held her there, stroking her hair, kissing her face, murmuring in her ear:
"Salome, Salome, my sweet wife, Salome! Oh, how thankful! Oh, how glad I am to meet you!"