ole 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,
and 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 conf