in my study, the visit of the prison
almoner was announced. He was an old priest who knew men well and
understood the habits of criminals. He seemed troubled, ill at ease,
nervous. After talking for a few minutes about one thing and another, he
arose and said suddenly: 'If Moiron is executed, monsieur, you will have
put an innocent man to death.'

"Then he left without bowing, leaving me behind with the deep impression
made by his words. He had pronounced them in such a sincere and solemn
manner, opening those lips, closed and sealed by the secret of
confession, in order to save a life.

"An hour later I left for Paris, and my father immediately asked that I
be granted an audience with the emperor.

"The following day I was received. His majesty was working in a little
reception room when we were introduced. I described the whole case, and I
was just telling about the priest's visit when a door opened behind the
sovereign's chair and the empress, who supposed he was alone, appeared.
His majesty, Napoleon, consulted her. As soon as she had heard the
matter, she exclaimed: 'This man must be pardoned. He must, since he is
innocent.'

"Why did this sudden conviction of a religious woman cast a terrible
doubt in my mind?

"Until then I had ardently desired a change of sentence. And now I
suddenly felt myself the toy, the dupe of a cunning criminal who had
employed the priest and confession as a last means of defence.

"I explained my hesitancy to their majesties. The emperor remained
undecided, urged on one side by his natural kindness and held back on the
other by the fear of being deceived by a criminal; but the empress, who
was convinced that the priest had obeyed a divine inspiration, kept
repeating: 'Never mind! It is better to spare a criminal than to kill an
innocent man!' Her advice was taken. The death sentence was commuted to
one of hard labor.

"A few years later I heard that Moiron had again been called to the
emperor's attention on account of his exemplary conduct in the prison at
Toulon and was now employed as a servant by the director of the
penitentiary.

"For a long time I heard nothing more of this man. But about two years
ago, while I was spending a summer near Lille with my cousin, De
Larielle, I was informed one evening, just as we were sitting down to
dinner, that a young priest wished to speak to me.

"I had him shown in and he begged me to come to a dying man who desired
absolutely to see