her I am to keep your words secret."

"My remarks are part of my confession; I confide them to you in your
character of a confessor."

"Very well," said the priest, seating himself on the chair which the
Franciscan had, with great difficulty, just left, to lie down on the
bed.

The Franciscan continued,--"I repeat, there are several persons staying
in this inn."

"So I have heard."

"They ought to be eight in number."

The Jesuit made a sign that he understood him. "The first to whom I wish
to speak," said the dying man, "is a German from Vienna, whose name is
Baron de Wostpur. Be kind enough to go to him, and tell him the person
he expected has arrived." The confessor, astounded, looked at his
penitent; the confession seemed a singular one.

"Obey," said the Franciscan, in a tone of command impossible to resist.
The good Jesuit, completely subdued, rose and left the room. As soon as
he had gone, the Franciscan again took up the papers which a crisis of
the fever had already, once before, obliged him to put aside.

"The Baron de Wostpur? Good!" he said; "ambitious, a fool, and
straitened in means."

He folded up the papers, which he thrust under his pillow. Rapid
footsteps were heard at the end of the corridor. The confessor returned,
followed by the Baron de Wostpur, who walked along with his head raised,
as if he were discussing with himself the possibility of touching the
ceiling with the feather in his hat. Therefore, at the appearance of
the Franciscan, at his melancholy look, and seeing the plainness of the
room, he stopped, and inquired,--"Who has summoned me?"

"I," said the Franciscan, who turned towards the confessor, saying, "My
good father, leave us for a moment together; when this gentleman leaves,
you will return here." The Jesuit left the room, and, doubtless, availed
himself of this momentary exile from the presence of the dying man
to ask the host for some explanation about this strange penitent, who
treated his confessor no better than he would a man servant. The baron
approached the bed, and wished to speak, but the hand of the Franciscan
imposed silence upon him.

"Every moment is precious," said the latter, hurriedly. "You have come
here for the competition, have you not?"

"Yes, my father."

"You hope to be elected general of the order?"

"I hope so."

"You know on what conditions only you can possibly attain this high
position, which makes one man the master of monarchs, the eq