"Say what lies upon your mind and have done," reproved St Agapit. "I would have you die with better thoughts."
"Cousin," panted Jean-Marie, "I forgive you as I hope for mercy. Place now your hand on mine."
Roussilac did so, shrinking at the freezing contact.
"Your aunt and uncle and Madeleine your cousin dwell in this land, two days' journey beyond the river. My father was hunted for his life. They called him a wizard. You know? Yes, once at home you might have shielded him, but there was your advancement to be thought on. Swear to me to find them. Tell Madeleine how I died. Be good to her. Ah, cousin, be a brother to Madeleine. You shall find her the fairest sister in all this world. Swear to bring them from their solitude, to protect my father. Swear before this holy priest to feed and clothe them if they be in want, to care for them, and be to them a brother and a son."
Roussilac, who had softened for the moment, grew again stern. His position was not so sure that it could withstand the attacks of tongues that might whisper at home that the young governor of the new colony sheltered a heretic uncle. Jean-Marie was quick to note the change. He knew the hardness of his cousin's heart.
"Swear to me, or have my shadow cursing you through life."
The priest put out his arm with a word of adjuration.
"The crucifix," the commandant muttered.
St Agapit held it over the dying man.
"Touch not the sacred symbol without a prayer, my son. Beware God's wrath!"