fresh, your mouth pure, your hands innocent."

With eyes fixed upon her, he continued reading to the end all that was
necessary for him to say; while she scarcely breathed, nor did one of
her closed eyelids move. Then he said:

"Recite the Creed."

And having waited awhile, he repeated it himself:

"_Credo in unum Deum, Patrem omnipotentem_." ("I believe in one God, the
Father Almighty.")

"Amen," replied the Abbe Cornille.

All this time the heavy sobbing of Felicien was heard, as upon the
landing-place he wept in the enervation of hope. Hubert and Hubertine
still prayed fervently, with the same anxious waiting and desire, as if
they had felt descend upon them all the invisible powers of the Unknown.
A change now came in the service, from the murmur of half-spoken
prayers. Then the litanies of the ritual were unfolded, the invocation
to all the Saints, the flight of the Kyrie Eleison, calling Heaven to
the aid of miserable humanity, mounting each time with great outbursts,
like the fume of incense.

Then the voices suddenly fell, and there was a deep silence. Monseigneur
washed his fingers in the few drops of water that the Abbe poured out
from the ewer. At length he took the vessel of sacred oil, opened the
cover thereof, and placed himself before the bed. It was the solemn
approach of the Sacrament of this last religious ceremony, by the
efficacy of which are effaced all mortal or venial sins not pardoned,
which rest in the soul after having received the other sacraments, old
remains of forgotten sins, sins committed unwittingly, sins of languor
which prevented one from being firmly re-established in the grace of
God. The pure white chamber seemed to be like the individuals collected
therein, motionless, and in a state of surprise and expectation. Where
could all these sins be found? They must certainly come from outside in
this great band of sun's rays, filled with dancing specks of dust, which
appeared to bring germs of life even to this great royal couch, so white
and cold from the coming of death to a pure young maiden.

Monseigneur meditated a moment, fixing his looks again upon Angelique,
assuring himself that the slight breath had not ceased, struggling
against all human emotion, as he saw how thin she was, with the beauty
of an archangel, already immaterial. His voice retained the authority of
a divine disinterestedness, and his thumb did not tremble when he dipped
it into the sacred oils as he comme