she saw a priest from Saint-Thomas d'Aquin
standing by her friend's pillow, and a sister of charity in
attendance. Religion could find a soul to save in a mass of rottenness
which, of the five senses of man, had now only that of sight. The
sister of charity who alone had been found to nurse Valerie stood
apart. Thus the Catholic religion, that divine institution, always
actuated by the spirit of self-sacrifice, under its twofold aspect of
the Spirit and the Flesh, was tending this horrible and atrocious
creature, soothing her death-bed by its infinite benevolence and
inexhaustible stores of mercy.

The servants, in horror, refused to go into the room of either their
master or mistress; they thought only of themselves, and judged their
betters as righteously stricken. The smell was so foul that in spite
of open windows and strong perfumes, no one could remain long in
Valerie's room. Religion alone kept guard there.

How could a woman so clever as Valerie fail to ask herself to what end
these two representatives of the Church remained with her? The dying
woman had listened to the words of the priest. Repentance had risen on
her darkened soul as the devouring malady had consumed her beauty. The
fragile Valerie had been less able to resist the inroads of the
disease than Crevel; she would be the first to succumb, and, indeed,
had been the first attacked.

"If I had not been ill myself, I would have come to nurse you," said
Lisbeth at last, after a glance at her friend's sunken eyes. "I have
kept my room this fortnight or three weeks; but when I heard of your
state from the doctor, I came at once."

"Poor Lisbeth, you at least love me still, I see!" said Valerie.
"Listen. I have only a day or two left to think, for I cannot say to
live. You see, there is nothing left of me--I am a heap of mud! They
will not let me see myself in a glass.--Well, it is no more than I
deserve. Oh, if I might only win mercy, I would gladly undo all the
mischief I have done."

"Oh!" said Lisbeth, "if you can talk like that, you are indeed a dead
woman."

"Do not hinder this woman's repentance, leave her in her Christian
mind," said the priest.

"There is nothing left!" said Lisbeth in consternation. "I cannot
recognize her eyes or her mouth! Not a feature of her is there! And
her wit has deserted her! Oh, it is awful!"

"You don't know," said Valerie, "what death is; what it is to be
obliged to think of the morrow of your last day on e