ification of
her fellows, a public confession of the greatest of her sins. We have
resisted her pious wish, although this act of contrition was long in use
during the early ages of Christianity. But, as this poor woman tells us
that her confession may serve to rehabilitate an unfortunate son of this
parish, we leave her free to follow the inspirations of her repentance."

After these words, said with pastoral unction and dignity, the
archbishop turned aside to give place to Veronique. The dying woman came
forward, supported by her old mother and the rector,--the mother from
whom she derived her body, the Church, the spiritual mother of her soul.
She knelt down on a cushion, clasped her hands, and seemed to collect
herself for a few moments, as if to gather from some source descending
from heaven the power to speak. At this moment the silence was almost
terrifying. None dared look at their neighbor. All eyes were lowered.
And yet the eyes of Veronique, when she raised them, encountered those
of the _procureur-general_, and the expression on that blanched face
brought the color to hers.

"I could not die in peace," said Veronique, in a voice of deep emotion,
"if I suffered the false impression you all have of me to remain. You
see in me a guilty woman, who asks your prayers, and who seeks to make
herself worthy of pardon by this public confession of her sin. That sin
was so great, its consequences were so fatal, that perhaps no penance
can atone for it. But the more humiliation I submit to here on earth,
the less I may have to dread the wrath of God in the heavenly kingdom to
which I am going. My father, who had great confidence in me, commended
to my care (now twenty years ago) a son of this parish, in whom he had
seen a great desire to improve himself, an aptitude for study, and fine
characteristics. I mean the unfortunate Jean-Francois Tascheron, who
thenceforth attached himself to me as his benefactress. How did the
affection I felt for him become a guilty one? I think myself excused
from explaining this. Perhaps it could be shown that the purest
sentiments by which we act in this world were insensibly diverted from
their course by untold sacrifices, by reasons arising from our human
frailty, by many causes which might appear to dismiss the evil of my
sin. But even if the noblest affections moved me, was I less guilty?
Rather let me confess that I, who by education, by position in the
world, might consider myself sup