"My son; my Pierre."
"Mother!"
"Oh, I am so happy that I released you from the spell the evil one threw over you. For my sake, Pierre, return to the Church and be forgiven."
"Before the sun sets, mother, I will go to confession and partake of the blessed sacrament; and I will cease my evil ways and be a son to my father. It was so noble of you, mother, to release me from the spell as you did."
He would rather have had his tongue cut out than to let her know that the great sacrifice she had made for him had been a sad, sad mistake.
And now the end was very near. "Baptiste?" she asked faintly.
He laid her in his father's arms and turned away. He did not hear what she said to his father, but he heard him reply in a voice that sounded strangely far away and weak, "Yes, soon; very soon, wife."
Then all was silent. With his back still turned to them he waited for his father to call him; but the seconds sped on and the silence continued. At last he turned. His father was kneeling on the floor with his arms around her and his head lying on the pillow close to hers.
"Come, father," he said softly, as he tried to raise him. There was no reply. He bent over and peered into the two quiet faces. The legend of the loup-garou had no place in the land they had entered.