the body; in uniting oneself with the Church,
which is the mystical substance of Christ; and in suffering for Him and
with Him, this last communion of agony that is your portion, madame, and
is the most perfect communion of all. If you heartily detest your crime
and love God with all your soul, if you have faith and charity, your
death is a martyrdom and a new baptism."

"Alas, my God," replied the marquise, "after what you tell me, now that I
know the executioner's hand was necessary to my salvation, what should I
have become had I died at Liege? Where should I have been now? And even
if I had not been taken, and had lived another twenty years away from
France, what would my death have been, since it needed the scaffold for
my purification? Now I see all my wrong-doings, and the worst of all is
the last--I mean my effrontery before the judges. But all is not yet
lost, God be thanked; and as I have one last examination to go through, I
desire to make a complete confession about my whole life. You, Sir, I
entreat specially to ask pardon on my behalf of the first president;
yesterday, when I was in the dock, he spoke very touching words to me,
and I was deeply moved; but I would not show it, thinking that if I made
no avowal the evidence would not be sufficiently strong to convict me.
But it has happened otherwise, and I must have scandalised my judges by
such an exhibition of hardihood. Now I recognise my fault, and will
repair it. Furthermore, sir, far from feeling angry with the president
for the judgment he to-day passes against me, far from complaining of the
prosecutor who has demanded it, I thank them both most humbly, for my
salvation depends upon it."

The doctor was about to answer, encouraging her, when the door opened: it
was dinner coming in, for it was now half-past one. The marquise paused
and watched what was brought in, as though she were playing hostess in
her own country house. She made the woman and the two men who watched
her sit down to the table, and turning to the doctor, said, "Sir, you
will not wish me to stand on ceremony with you; these good people always
dine with me to keep me company, and if you approve, we will do the same
to-day. This is the last meal," she added, addressing them, "that I
shall take with you." Then turning to the woman, "Poor Madame du Rus,"
said she, "I have been a trouble to you for a long time; but have a
little patience, and you will soon be rid of me. To-