“But Monsieur de Bourmont did not kill your brother,” replied the abbé, quietly.
Sister Claire shook her head, and said, in a tone of piercing sadness:—
“Ah, Monsieur l’Abbé, you have forgotten. It was from you yourself I heard the words, ‘My first penitent was a murderer;’ and the first time I ever saw Monsieur de Bourmont at Holyrood, he said, ‘I was the Abbé de Ronceray’s first penitent.’”
“He was wrong. He was not my first penitent; he was my second. I was locked up alone in the room with the murderer when Monsieur de Bourmont arrived, and the confession was made me by that miserable man before Monsieur de Bourmont came near me. He, too, went to confession for the first time in many years, and I recall he said, at the time, that he was my first penitent,—I had been his superior officer, you may remember,—and I did not contradict him; but it was a mistake.”
There was a long pause after this, and the abbé carefully avoided looking at Sister Claire. Presently he continued:—
“I was not present when he made the assertion which so misled you, else I would have contradicted him then.”
A still longer pause followed, and the abbé heard Sister Claire say to herself:—
“Bastien was the man who killed my brother.”
The old priest seemed not to hear Sister Claire’s words. He only said, in a mildly vexed tone:—
“How well should one guard the tongue! And how unguarded was mine! I think the Evil One must have been at my elbow when I made that indiscreet remark. Forget it, my child!”