The effect of his day, the prospect of the morrow, the sight of the secret struggle he had witnessed, and the full repentance which had at last overtaken his stubborn lamb when the great reckoning of eternity was brought home to him,--all these things had combined to break down Monsieur Bonnet, whose nervous, electrical nature entered into the sufferings of others as though they were his own. Souls that resemble that noble soul espouse so ardently the impressions, miseries, passions, sufferings of those in whom they are interested, that they actually feel them, and in a horrible manner, too; for they are able to measure their extent,--a knowledge which escapes others who are blinded by selfishness of heart or the paroxy** of grief. It is here that a priest like Monsieur Bonnet becomes an artist who feels, rather than an artist who judges.
When the rector entered the bishop's salon and found there the two grand-vicars, the Abbe de Rastignac, Monsieur de Grandville, and the /procureur-general/, he felt convinced that something more was expected of him.
"Monsieur," said the bishop, "have you obtained any facts which you can, without violating your duty, confide to the officers of the law for their guidance?"
"Monseigneur, in order to give absolution to that poor, wandering child, I waited not only till his repentance was as sincere and as complete as the Church could wish, but I have also exacted from him the restitution of the money."
"This restitution," said the /procureur-general/, "brings me here to-night; it will, of course, be made in such a way as to throw light on the mysterious parts of this affair. The criminal certainly had accomplices."
"The interests of human justice," said the rector, "are not those for which I act. I am ignorant of how the restitution will be made, but I know it will take place. In sending for me to minister to my parishioner, Monseigneur placed me under the conditions which give to rectors in their parishes the same powers which Monseigneur exercises in his diocese,--barring, of course, all questions of discipline and ecclesiastical obedience."
"That is true," said the bishop. "But the question here is how to obtain from the condemned man voluntary information which may enlighten justice."
"My mission is to win souls to God," said Monsieur Bonnet.
Monsieur de Grancour shrugged his shoulders slightly, but his colleague, the Abbe Dutheil nodded his head in sign of approval.
"Tascheron is no doubt endeavoring to shield some one, whom the restitution will no doubt bring to light," said the /procureur- general/.
"Monsieur," replied the rector, "I know absolutely nothing which would either confute or justify your suspicion. Besides, the secrets of confession are inviolable."
"Will the restitution really take place?" asked the man of law.
"Yes, monsieur," replied the man of God.
"That is enough for me," said the /procureur-general/, who relied on the police to obtain the required information; as if passions and personal interests were not tenfold more astute than the police.
The next day, this being market-day, Jean-Francois Tascheron was led to execution in a manner to satisfy both the pious and the political spirits of the town. Exemplary in behavior, pious and humble, he kissed the crucifix, which Monsieur Bonnet held to his lips with a trembling hand. The unhappy man was watched and examined; his glance was particularly spied upon; would his eyes rove in search of some one in the crowd or in a house? His discretion did, as a matter of fact, hold firm to the last. He died as a Christian should, repentant and absolved.
The poor rector was carried away unconscious from the foot of the scaffold, though he did not even see the fatal knife.
During the following night, on the high-road fifteen miles from Limoges, Denise, though nearly exhausted by fatigue and grief, begged her father to let her go again to Limoges and take with her Louis-Marie Tascheron, one of her brothers.
"What more have you to do in that town?" asked her father, frowning.
"Father," she said, "not only must we pay the lawyer who defended him, but we must also restore the money which he has hidden."
"You are right," said the honest man, pulling out a leathern pouch he carried with him.
"No, no," said Denise, "he is no longer your son. It is not for those who cursed him, but for those who loved him, to reward the lawyer."
"We will wait for you at Havre," said the father.
Denise and her brother returned to Limoges before daylight. When the police heard, later, of this return they were never able to discover where the brother and sister had hidden themselves.
Denise and Louis went to the upper town cautiously, about four o'clock that afternoon, gliding along in the shadow of the houses. The poor girl dared not raise her eyes, fearing to meet the glances of those who had seen her brother's execution. After calling on Monsieur Bonnet, who in spite of his weakness, consented to serve as father and guardian to Denise in the matter, they all went to the lawyer's house in the rue de la Comedie.
"Good-morning, my poor children," said the lawyer, bowing to Monsieur Bonnet; "how can I be of service to you? Perhaps you would like me to claim your brother's body and send it to you?"
"No, monsieur," replied Denise, weeping at an idea which had never yet occurred to her. "I come to pay his debt to you--so far, at least, as money can pay an eternal debt."
"Pray sit down," said the lawyer; noticing that Denise and the rector were still standing.
Denise turned away to take from her corset two notes of five hundred francs each, which were fastened by a pin to her chemise; then she sat down and offered them to her brother's defender. The rector gave the lawyer a flashing look which was instantly moistened by a tear.
"Keep the money for yourself, my poor girl," said the lawyer. "The rich do not pay so generously for a lost cause."
"Monsieur," said Denise, "I cannot obey you."
"Then the money is not yours?" said the lawyer.
