The Sisters saw two great tears trace a channel down the stranger's
manly checks and fall to the floor. Then the office for the dead was
recited; the Domine salvum fac regem chanted in an undertone that went
to the hearts of the faithful Royalists, for they thought how the
child-King for whom they were praying was even then a captive in the
hands of his enemies; and a shudder ran through the stranger, as he
thought that a new crime might be committed, and that he could not
choose but take his part in it.

The service came to an end. The priest made a sign to the sisters, and
they withdrew. As soon as he was left alone with the stranger, he went
towards him with a grave, gentle face, and said in fatherly tones:

"My son, if your hands are stained with the blood of the royal martyr,
confide in me. There is no sin that may not be blotted out in the
sight of God by penitence as sincere and touching as yours appears to
be."

At the first words the man started with terror, in spite of himself.
Then he recovered composure, and looked quietly at the astonished
priest.

"Father," he said, and the other could not miss the tremor in his
voice, "no one is more guiltless than I of the blood shed----"

"I am bound to believe you," said the priest. He paused a moment, and
again he scrutinized his penitent. But, persisting in the idea that
the man before him was one of the members of the Convention, one of
the voters who betrayed an inviolable and anointed head to save their