"Give her that," said I to the waiting sister, "and I will come to
see how she is to-morrow."

That night, however, she died, and when I reached the nunnery next
day it was only to be told that she had read my note and with
infinite difficulty written an answer to it.

"I am sorry I should have perhaps hastened her end," said I.
"Before you give it to me, will you permit me to see her?"

"_Mais oui, Monsieur_, if monsieur will come this way."

Until I gazed upon the dead I did not feel quite sure of the
identity of this pious Sister of Charity. But I only needed to look
once upon the ghastly pallor, the ugly lip mark and the long slender
figure on the bed before me to recognize her who had once been Mdme.
Martinetti.

"And now for the paper," I said.

"It will be in the room that was hers, if monsieur will accompany."
We walked along several corridors till we reached the room in which
hung the parrot, I quite expected it to fly at me again and try to
get rid of its miserable secret But no! It sat on its stick,
perfectly quiet and rational.

"I cannot find dat paper, it is very strange!" muttered the good
sister, turning everything over and over. A light wind playing about
the room had perhaps blown it into some corner. I assisted her in
the search.