penitential tour.

"'Ask neither my name nor whence I come,' he said. 'I belong to an
illustrious family who would blush to know that I am still alive.
Besides, on entering the Trappist order, we abjure all pride in the
past; we make ourselves like new-born children; we become dead to the
world that we may live again in Jesus Christ. But of this be sure: you
behold in me one of the most striking examples of the miraculous power
of grace; and if I could make known to you the tale of my religious
life, of my terrors, my remorse, and my expiations, you would certainly
be touched by it. But of what avail the indulgence and compassion of
man, if the pity of God will not deign to absolve me?'

"You know," continued the abbe, "that I do not like monks, that I
distrust their humility and abhor their lives of inaction. But this man
spoke in so sad and kindly a manner; he was so filled with a sense
of his duty; he seemed so ill, so emaciated by asceticism, so truly
penitent, that he won my heart. In his looks and in his talk were bright
flashes which betrayed a powerful intellect, indefatigable energy, and
indomitable perseverance. We spent two whole hours together, and I was
so moved by what he said that on leaving him I expressed a wish to see
him again before he left this neighbourhood. He had found a lodging for
the night at the Goulets farm, and I tried in vain to persuade him to
accompany me to the chateau. He told me that he had a companion he could
not leave.

"'But, since you are so sympathetic,' he said, 'I shall esteem it a
pleasure to meet you here to-morrow towards sunset; perhaps I may
even venture to ask a favour of you; you can be of service to me in an
important matter which I have to arrange in this neighbourhood; more
than this I cannot tell you at the present moment.'

"I assured him that he could reckon on me, and that I should only be too
happy to oblige a man such as himself."

"And the result is, I suppose, that you are waiting impatiently for the
hour of your appointment?" I said to the abbe.

"I am," he replied; "and my new acquaintance has so many attractions for
me that, if I were not afraid of abusing the confidence he has placed in
me, I should take Edmee to the spring of Fougeres."

"I fancy," I replied, "that Edmee has something better to do than to
listen to the declamations of your monk, who perhaps, after all, is only
a knave, like so many others to whom you have given money blindly. Yo