onfess in, and one moment to die.

So the doctor was very glad to find that between Sunday and Thursday her
feelings had changed so much.

"Yes," said she, "the more I reflect the more I feel that one day would
not be enough to prepare myself for God's tribunal, to be judged by Him
after men have judged me."

"Madame," replied the doctor, "I do not know what or when your sentence
will be; but should it be death, and given to-day, I may venture to
promise you that it will not be carried out before to-morrow. But
although death is as yet uncertain, I think it well that you should be
prepared for any event."

"Oh, my death is quite certain," said she, "and I must not give way to
useless hopes. I must repose in you the great secrets of my whole life;
but, father, before this opening of my heart, let me hear from your
lips the opinion you have formed of me, and what you think in my present
state I ought to do."

"You perceive my plan," said the doctor, "and you anticipate what I
was about to say. Before entering into the secrets of your conscience,
before opening the discussion of your affairs with God, I am ready,
madame, to give you certain definite rules. I do not yet know whether
you are guilty at all, and I suspend my judgment as to all the crimes
you are accused of, since of them I can learn nothing except through
your confession. Thus it is my duty still to doubt your guilt. But I
cannot be ignorant of what you are accused of: this is a public matter,
and has reached my ears; for, as you may imagine, madame, your affairs
have made a great stir, and there are few people who know nothing about
them."

"Yes," she said, smiling, "I know there has been a great deal of talk,
and I am in every man's mouth."

"Then," replied the doctor, "the crime you are accused of is poisoning.
If you are guilty, as is believed, you cannot hope that God will pardon
you unless you make known to your judges what the poison is, what is its
composition and what its antidote, also the names of your accomplices.
Madame, we must lay hands on all these evil-doers without exception; for
if you spared them, they would be able to make use of your poison, and
you would then be guilty of all the murders committed by them after
your death, because you did not give them over to the judges during your
life; thus one might say you survive yourself, for your crime survives
you. You know, madame, that a sin in the moment of death is never
pardoned, a