"Ah!" said Gabriel, turning pale.
"Whereas, if you had been at hand," continued Jean, "you might perhaps have been able to prevent what is now an accomplished fact."
"No," said Gabriel, gloomily, "no, I could not, I ought not, nor would I have attempted even to oppose that step. Providence doubtless kept me at Calais, for my heart would have broken by its helplessness in the face of her sacrificial act; and the poor, dear, afflicted soul which thus gave itself to God's service might have had to suffer more from my presence than she did when left alone at that solemn moment."
"Oh, but she was not alone," said Jean.
"Of course you were there, Jean, and Babette, and the poor and unfortunate, her devoted friends."
"We were not the only ones, Monsieur le Comte," said Jean. "Sister Bénie's mother was also with her."
"Who,—Madame de Poitiers?" exclaimed Gabriel.
"Yes, Monsieur le Comte, Madame de Poitiers herself, who, on receipt of a letter from her daughter, hastened hither from her retirement at Chaumont-sur-Loire, was present at the ceremonial yesterday, and should be with the new nun at this moment."
"Oh!" said Gabriel, in terror, "why did Madame de Castro send for that woman?"
"Why, Monseigneur, as she said to Babette, that woman is, after all, her mother."