soul knowledge of many wondrous things which we can yet neither see nor
touch? I repeat, there are things which cannot be denied."

Derues listened attentively, continually on his guard; and afraid, he
knew not why, of becoming entangled in this conversation, as in a trap.
He carefully watched Monsieur de Lamotte, whose eyes never left him. The
cure resumed--

"Here is an instance which I was bound to accept, seeing it happened to
myself. I was then twenty, and my mother lived in the neighbourhood of
Tours, whilst I was at the seminary of Montpellier. After several years
of separation, I had obtained permission to go and see her. I wrote,
telling her of this good news, and I received her answer--full of joy and
tenderness. My brother and sister were to be informed, it was to be a
family meeting, a real festivity; and I started with a light and joyous
heart. My impatience was so great, that, having stopped for supper at a
village inn some ten leagues from Tours, I would not wait till the next
morning for the coach which went that way, but continued the journey on
foot and walked all night. It was a long and difficult road, but
happiness redoubled my strength. About an hour after sunrise I saw
distinctly the smoke and the village roofs, and I hurried on to surprise
my family a little sooner. I never felt more active, more light-hearted
and gay; everything seemed to smile before and around me. Turning a
corner of the hedge, I met a peasant whom I recognised. All at once it
seemed as if a veil spread over my sight, all my hopes and joy suddenly
vanished, a funereal idea took possession of me, and I said, taking the
hand of the man, who had not yet spoken--

"'My mother is dead, I am convinced my mother is dead!'