die at peace with those I have injured; I must fall at the feet of
Bernard Mauprat and obtain his forgiveness of my sins. My tears will
move him, or, if his unrelenting soul despises them, I shall at least
have fulfilled an imperious duty."

Seeing that he was speaking with a firm conviction that he was being
heard by me, I was filled with disgust; I thought I could detect the
deceit and cowardice that lay beneath this vile hypocrisy. I moved away
and waited for the abbe some distance off. He soon rejoined me; the
interview had ended by a mutual promise to meet again soon. The abbe had
undertaken to convey the Trappist's words to me, while the latter had
threatened in the most honeyed tone in the world to come and see me if I
refused his request. The abbe and I agreed to consult together, without
informing the chevalier or Edmee, that we might not disquiet them
unnecessarily. The Trappist had gone to stay at La Chatre, at the
Carmelite convent; this had thoroughly aroused the abbe's suspicions,
in spite of his first enthusiasm at the penitence of the sinner. The
Carmelites had persecuted him in his youth, and in the end the prior
had driven him to secularize himself. The prior was still alive, old
but implacable; infirm, and withdrawn from the world, but strong in his
hatred, and his passion for intrigue. The abbe could not hear his name
without shuddering, and he begged me to act prudently in this affair.

"Although John Mauprat," he said, "is under the bane of the law, and you
are at the summit of honour and prosperity, do not despise the weakness
of your enemy. Who knows what cunning and hatred may do? They can usurp
the place of the just and cast him out on the dung-heap; they can
fasten their crimes on others and sully the robe of innocence with their
vileness. Maybe you have not yet finished with the Mauprats."