“Yes, my child; nothing is left for you to do but to make a Christian end. This life is nothing in comparison to that which awaits you; you must think now of your eternal happiness. You can pay your debt to man with your life, but God is not content with such a little thing as that.”
“Give up my life! Ah! you do not know all that I am leaving.”
Denise looked at her brother as if to warn him that even in matters of religion he must be cautious.
“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 God 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 passed 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.