lready been working for thirteen or
fourteen hours for the good of your salvation; I am not a strong man, and
I think you should realise, madame, that if you do not let me rest a
little, I may not be able to stay with you to the end."

"Sir," said the marquise, "you have closed my mouth. To-morrow is for me
a far more important day than to-day, and I have been wrong: of course
you must rest to-night. Let us just finish this one thing, and read over
what we have written."

It was done, and the doctor would have retired; but the supper came in,
and the marquise would not let him go without taking something. She told
the concierge to get a carriage and charge it to her. She took a cup of
soup and two eggs, and a minute later the concierge came back to say the
carriage was at the door. Then the marquise bade the doctor good-night,
making him promise to pray for her and to be at the Conciergerie by six
o'clock the next morning. This he promised her.

The day following, as he went into the tower, he found Father Chavigny,
who had taken his place with the marquise, kneeling and praying with her.
The priest was weeping, but she was calm, and received the doctor in just
the same way as she had let him go. When Father Chavigny saw him, he
retired. The marquise begged Chavigny to pray for her, and wanted to
make him promise to return, but that he would not do. She then turned to
the doctor, saying, "Sir, you are punctual, and I cannot complain that
you have broken your promise; but oh, how the time has dragged, and how
long it has seemed before the clock struck six!"

"I am here, madame," said the doctor; "but first of all, how have you
spent the night?"

"I have written three letters," said the marquise, "and, short as they
were, they took a long time to write: one was to my sister, one to Madame
de Marillac, and the third to M. Couste. I should have liked to show
them to you, but Father Chavigny offered to take charge of them, and as
he had approved of them, I could not venture to suggest any doubts.
After the letters were written, we had some conversation and prayer; but
when the father took up his breviary and I my rosary with the same
intention, I felt so weary that I asked if I might lie on my bed; he said
I might, and I had two good hours' sleep without dreams or any sort of
uneasiness; when I woke we prayed together, and had just finished when
you came back."

"Well, madame," said the doctor, "if you will, w