"Yes, slightly," replied Madame Danglars, restraining her emotion. "If you would let the gentleman be informed now—"
"At once, madame," said the official.
He wrote a few lines and went away, promising to return shortly. In about half an hour the chaplain appeared. He bowed respectfully, and said:
"Madame, I am aware of the reason which brings you here."
"What, you know?" exclaimed Madame Danglars, frightened.
"Calm yourself, madame; the secrets which are intrusted to me are buried. I must witness your interview as a matter of form, but I shall neither hear nor see."
Madame Danglars with tears in her eyes thanked the chaplain. The next minute the door opened and Benedetto appeared, accompanied by the jailer. When the poor mother saw the yellow and red clothing, the green cap, and the chain which led from the waist to the ankle, she uttered a low cry and clutched the arm of a chair to prevent herself from fainting. Upon a wink from the chaplain, who wore the dress of a Jesuit priest, the jailer departed, and after the priest had closed the door, he turned toward Benedetto, and said:
"My son, thank God for his mercy, and try to show yourself worthy of it."
Neither Madame Danglars nor the priest noticed the smile which flitted across the convict's face. Benedetto collected himself immediately, and taking off his hat he bent his knee to his mother and crossed his eyes with his hand. The priest sat in the window alcove, pulled a prayer-book out of his pocket and began to read; Madame Danglars threw a look around, then she took the bald-shaved head of Benedetto in her hands and sobbingly murmured:
"My poor, poor son!"