“An atheist?” she questioned.
“An ugly word, Mademoiselle”—he gave a little sigh; “but yes—perhaps.”
“I am sorry for you,” said Carola; at which he smiled. “But your friend?” she added. “We have no priest!” She seemed distressed at the thought.
“His soul does not need shriving,” replied M. de Vauvenargues.
But the words seemed to have penetrated the lieutenant’s clouded consciousness; he clamoured for a priest, for the last Sacrament, for the Eucharist.
The Marquis caught him in his arms and held him strongly.
“None of that matters,” he said with power. “You are free of all that—upon the heights.”
The voice calmed M. d’Espagnac; he rested his head on his captain’s breast, and shuddered into silence.
The Marquis looked up to see Carola with empty arms.
“Where is the child?” he asked.