"Oh, horror!" cried Sister Bénie, hiding her face in her hands.
"You lie, Madame!" said Gabriel, vehemently. "It must be that you lie! Where is your proof that you speak the truth?"
"Here," replied Diane de Poitiers, in a most peaceful tone, handing him a paper which she took from her bosom.
Gabriel seized the paper with trembling hand, and read it eagerly.
"It is a letter from your father," continued Madame de Poitiers, "written a few days before his death, as you see. He complains of my cruelty, as you will see again; but he submits, as you may also see, reflecting that in any event I shall soon be his wife, and that the lover will have suffered disappointment only to make the husband's happiness more pure and perfect. Oh, the words of that letter, which is signed and dated, are in no wise equivocal! Am I not right? So you see, Monsieur de Montgommery, that it would have been criminal for you to think of Sister Bénie; for you are bound by no tie of blood to her who is now the spouse of Jesus Christ. And in saving you from such impiety, I hope that I have acquitted my debt to you, and have more than repaid you for the bliss I enjoy in my solitude. We are quits now, Monsieur de Montgommery, and I have no more to say to you."
Gabriel, while this bitter, mocking speech was being delivered, had finished reading the baleful but sacred letter. It left no room whatever for doubt. It was to Gabriel like the voice of his father rising from the tomb to make known the truth.
When the wretched young man raised his wild, haggard eyes, he saw Diane de Castro lying unconscious before a prie-Dieu.
He rushed instinctively toward her; but the heavy iron bars arrested his steps.
As he turned back he saw Diane de Poitiers, and upon her lips was playing a smile of placid contentment.
Mad with grief, he took two steps toward her with uplifted hand.