“God’s will be done, father!” said she, in reply to her confessor. “Whatever may happen, I wilt do my duty as a Christian—in obedience to your commands.”
“And the Lord will reward you for what you may have to suffer in the accomplishment of this meritorious act. You promise then, before God, that you will not answer any of your husband’s questions, when he asks you for the daughters of Marshal Simon?”
“Yes, father, I promise!” said Frances, with a shudder.
“And will preserve the same silence towards Marshal Simon himself, in case he should return, before his daughters appear to me sufficiently grounded in the faith to be restored to him?”
“Yes, father,” said Frances, in a still fainter voice.
“You will come and give me an account of the scene that takes place between you and your husband, upon his return?”
“Yes, father; when must I bring the orphans to your house?”
“In an hour. I will write to the superior, and leave the letter with my housekeeper. She is a trusty person, and will conduct the young girls to the convent.”
After she had listened to the exhortations of her confessor, and received absolution for her late sins, on condition of performing penance, Dagobert’s wife left the confessional.
The church was no longer deserted. An immense crowd pressed into it, drawn thither by the pomp of the grand funeral of which the beadle had spoken to the sacristan two hours before. It was with the greatest difficulty that Frances could reach the door of the church, now hung with sumptuous drapery.