old barbarous paganism, he could not ransom his soul save by a public
expiation worthy of the early Christians.

"It is possible," he said, "to be a coward with God as well as with man,
and in the silence of my vigils I hear a terrible voice answering to my
tears: 'Miserable craven, it is the fear of man that has thrown you upon
the bosom of God, and if you had not feared temporal death, you would
never have thought of life eternal!'

"Then I realize that what I most dread is not God's wrath, but the rope
and the hangman that await me among my fellows. Well, it is time to end
this sense of secret shame; not until the day when men crush me beneath
their abuse and punishment shall I fell absolved and restored in the
sight of Heaven; then only shall I account myself worthy to say to Jesus
my Saviour: 'Give ear to me, innocent victim, Thou who heardest the
penitent thief; give ear to a sullied but contrite victim, who has
shared in the glory of Thy martyrdom and been ransomed by Thy blood!'"

"If you persist in your enthusiastic design," said the abbe, after
unsuccessfully bringing forward all possible objections, "you must at
least let me know in what way you thought I could be of service to you."

"I cannot act in this matter," replied the Trappist, "without the
consent of a young man who will soon be the last of the Mauprats; for
the chevalier has not many days to wait before he will receive the
heavenly reward due to his virtues; and as for myself, I cannot avoid
the punishment I am about to seek, except by falling back into the
endless night of the cloister. I speak of Bernard Mauprat; I will not
call him my nephew, for if he heard me he would blush to think that he
bore this shameful title. I heard of his return from America, and this