e Marguerite's name for
the elder was invariably "sister."

A footstep sounded on the stairs. The door opened. An acolyte appeared,
followed by the aged priest in his surplice. As soon as she saw him the
dying woman sat up suddenly in bed, opened her lips, stammered a few
words and began to scratch the bed-clothes, as if she would have made
hole in them.

Father Simon approached, took her hand, kissed her on the forehead and
said in a gentle voice:

"May God pardon your sins, my daughter. Be of good courage. Now is the
moment to confess them--speak!"

Then Marguerite, shuddering from head to foot, so that the very bed shook
with her nervous movements, gasped:

"Sit down, sister, and listen."

The priest stooped toward the prostrate Suzanne, raised her to her feet,
placed her in a chair, and, taking a hand of each of the sisters,
pronounced:

"Lord God! Send them strength! Shed Thy mercy upon them."

And Marguerite began to speak. The words issued from her lips one by
one--hoarse, jerky, tremulous.

"Pardon, pardon, sister! pardon me! Oh, if only you knew how I have
dreaded this moment all my life!"

Suzanne faltered through her tears:

"But what have I to pardon, little one? You have given me everything,
sacrificed all to me. You are an angel."

But Marguerite interrupted her:

"Be silent, be silent! Let me speak! Don't stop me! It is terrible. Let
me tell all, to the very end, without interruption. Listen. You
remember--you remember--Henry--"

Suzanne trembled and looked at her sister. The younger one went on:

"In order to understand you must hear everything. I was twelve years
old--only twelve--you remember, don't you? And I was spoilt; I
did just as I pleased. You remember how everybody spoilt me? Listen. The
first time he came he had on his riding boots; he dismounted, saying that
he had a message for father. You remember, don't you? Don't speak.
Listen. When I saw him I was struck with admiration. I thought him so
handsome, and I stayed in a corner of the drawing-room all the time he
was talking. Children are strange--and terrible. Yes, indeed, I
dreamt of him.

"He came again--many times. I looked at him with all my eyes, all my
heart. I was large for my age and much more precocious than--any one
suspected. He came often. I thought only of him. I often whispered to
myself:

"'Henry-Henry de Sampierre!'

"Then I was told that he was going to marry you. That was a blow! Oh,
sister, a terri