nd that to get remission for your crimes, if crimes you have,
they must die when you die: for if you slay them not, be very sure they
will slay you."

"Yes, I am sure of that," replied the marquise, after a moment of silent
thought; "and though I will not admit that I am guilty, I promise, if
I am guilty, to weigh your words. But one question, sir, and pray take
heed that an answer is necessary. Is there not crime in this world that
is beyond pardon? Are not some people guilty of sins so terrible and
so numerous that the Church dares not pardon them, and if God, in His
justice, takes account of them, He cannot for all His mercy pardon them?
See, I begin with this question, because, if I am to have no hope, it is
needless for me to confess."

"I wish to think, madame," replied the doctor, in spite of himself half
frightened at the marquise, "that this your first question is only put
by way of a general thesis, and has nothing to do with your own state. I
shall answer the question without any personal application. No, madame,
in this life there are no unpardonable sinners, terrible and numerous
howsoever their sins may be. This is an article of faith, and without
holding it you could not die a good Catholic. Some doctors, it is true,
have before now maintained the contrary, but they have been condemned as
heretics. Only despair and final impenitence are unpardonable, and they
are not sins of our life but in our death."

"Sir," replied the marquise, "God has given me grace to be convinced by
what you say, and I believe He will pardon all sins--that He has often
exercised this power. Now all my trouble is that He may not deign
to grant all His goodness to one so wretched as I am, a creature so
unworthy of the favours already bestowed on her."

The doctor reassured her as best he could, and began to examine her
attentively as they conversed together. "She was," he said, "a woman
naturally courageous and fearless; naturally gentle and good; not easily
excited; clever and penetrating, seeing things very clearly in her mind,
and expressing herself well and in few but careful words; easily finding
a way out of a difficulty, and choosing her line of conduct in the most
embarrassing circumstances; light-minded and fickle; unstable, paying
no attention if the same thing were said several times over. For this
reason," continued the doctor, "I was obliged to alter what I had to
say from time to time, keeping her but a short time t