A Victim to the Seal of Confession : a True Story

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http://www.archive.org/details/victimtosealofcoOOspil A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

A TRUE STORY

BY THE

REVEREND JOSEPH SPILLMANN, S. J.

ST. LOUIS, MO. : 1898.

Published by B. HERDER, 17 South Broadway. «

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-BECKTOLD — PRINTING AND BOOK MFG. CO. ST. LOUIS, MO. ^-ro A" 5. V

C STENTS. 165280 Page.

Chapter I. An Excursion to Ste. Victoire . . 5 II. The Priest of Ste. Victoire and his Sa- cristan 19

III. Joyous plans and sad forebodings . . 38 IV. A scheme of guilt 51 V. A deed of blood 60 VI. After the crime 73

VII. An evening at the "Golden Rose" . 82

VIII. The Mayor arrives on the scene . . 90 IX. The domiciliary visit 99 X. The judicial report 110

XI. The examining Magistrate . . . 123 XII. The cross-examination .... 136 XIII. In the Prison at Aix 152

XIV. In the Rue de la Colombe . . . 166

XV. Consultations ...... 181 XVI. A pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Mary Magdalen 199 XVII. In Court 214 *?VJJT. The witnesses are called .... 228 XIX. Sentence is passed 244

XX. Once more in the Rue de la Colombe . 258

XXI. A fresh and heavier Cross . . . 271 XXII. New-Caledonia 283 XXIII. An unexpected visitor .... 296 XXIV. At home again 311 PREFACE.

ALTHOUGH the minor details of the narrative given on the following pages are fictitious, it may yet be sak1 to be a true story, since not only

f J2 it founded on fact, but he principal incidents have actually occurred, and that in our own day. Many of our readers will doubtless remember, that an account of the event which we have taken for our theme, was, a few years ago, published to the

Catholic world more or less at length, in all the newspapers, as a striking example of the extent to which a priest is bound to guard the seal of confession even when his own life is at stake. The fact that the occurrence is of recent date, and that, to our knowledge, the Priest whose story we are about to tell is still living, renders it advisable to suppress his real name, as well as the names of other actors in the drama. Several of the subor- dinate characters whom it was necessary to intro- duce upon the stage for the sake of waving the narrative into a connected whole, are fictitious, and the scene in which it is laid is also to a certain measure altered. Moreover in regard to accessory circumstances the writer felt himself at liberty to draw upon his imagination, in order to bring into stronger relief the sacrifice which, in certain cases, the secrecy of the confessional imposes on the

Catholic Priest. CHAPTER I.

An Excursion to Ste. Victoire.

Winter bad given place to Spring; the soft breezes from the Mediterranean had already melted the light covering of snow which for a few weeks had rested on the hills and plains of sunny Prov- ence, and the smiling landscape wore a garb of vernal green, to be changed, alas! only too soon to a brown and dusty hue under the scorching rays of the summer sum. It was the first Sunday of Lent in the year 1888. The genial weather had tempted many of the inhabitants of Aix-les-Bains to forsake the streets of the old town, founded by the Romans some hundred years before the Christian era, on account of its salubrious thermal springs, and repair to the open country. Bands of pedestrians, merrily chatting together, were to be seen in every direction ; of these by far the greater number were wending their way to one or other of the little gardens and vineyards scattered about upon the hillsides, to spend the Sunday afternoon in the gardenhouses erected there. Almost every householder in Aix owns one of these gardens, which, with their sum- merhouses or chalets, called by the Provencals bastides or bastidons, of every imaginable style and shape, but mostly painted white and overgrown with creepers, give variety to scenery that would otherwise be somewhat uniform and monotonous. Other excursionists, either alone or in groups, (5) 6 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

were following the paths which led to the Alpine heights, by the side of the rivulets and little streams that, swollen by the spring rains came rushing noisily down from the mountains. The roads too. leading to Lainbasc and Peyrolles were alive with passengers on foot or on horseback and light vehicles of every description. One of the principal points of attraction was the heights of Sue. Victoire, a rocky eminence some seven or eight miles distant from Aix, whence a splendid view could be obtained over the wide plains and the lower ridges of hills far away to the deep blue sea beyond. On the other side, next to Aix. the wall of rock, of a yellowish-white tinge, rises almost perpendicularly: the summit is crowned by a cross of gigantic r>roportions, called the • -Cross of Provence." which stands out against the azure sky. displaying to all the country round the sign whereby the Christian hopes to achieve victory. Those who wish to reach that spot must go round towards the north, because on that side the slope from the mountain top in the valley below is gentler : and on the opposite side, though the rocks do not rise quite abruptly, yet the ascent is steep and rugged. On this, the south side, a village nestles in the valley at the foot of the hill. The stone houses and the gardens are built in terraces, and above them, almost like an old feudal castle, rise the church and the ancient monastery of Ste. Victoire. close to the face of the rock. On their return from High Mass, as soon as the midday-meal was finished, an elderly woman and two children set out from Aix on their wav to this !

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 7

village. The Ionian was well past sixty: her hair, seen beneath the white lace cap she wore, seemed scarcely less white than the cap itself. After she had gone some distance the look of fatigue discernible on her kindly features, somewhat flushed by the exertion of walking, showe that she had overrated her strength, and under- taken more than she could well perform. It was. in fact, rather too long an excursion for one of her

years : but what will not a fond grandmother do to please her grandchildren ••Charles. Julia!" she called out to the children, --how can you run and jump about as you are doing! Eemember we have still an hour's walk before we reach the farm of St. Ferreol. and then the ascent begins. But I did just the same when I was your age. and I fancy my poor old bones will ache lon£ before vours do. Come, we will rest a little under those olive-trees." ••Are you tired already. Grandmother ?" a.^ked the boy. tossing his curly brown hair off his

temples. --I could go a long long way further

without wanting to rest : I could go to Brignolles, and Ste. Baume. and on to Marseille^, to the sea. Oh how I would like to go to the sea. and get on board a big ship, and sail right away: away to the islands afar off. where the cocoa-nuts grow and the .savages live, the wicked heathen whom the missionaries turn into good Christians, as TTncle Francis was telling us last time we saw him. Do yon know. Grandmother. I mean to be a missioner when I grow up." ••Then vou will have to be much more Indus- '

8 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. trious at your lessons, and bring home a better report for your latin than you did last week," the girl interposed rather pertly. "Now, now, you are quarrelling again. You promised you would be such good children, if I took you with me to see your Uncle Francis. ' "Forgive me, Grandmother, I did not mean to be naughty," said Julia. "And do not look so crossly at me, Charles. Come and help me to gather a nosegay for Uncle Francis, while Grand- mother rests a little longer. Look what beautiful cowslips there are growing under the hedge! " Quickly pacified, the boy ran with his sister, who was a little older than himself, to the place where the flowers were growing, and they soon came back to their grandmother with their hands full, asking her to help them arrange them. "The poor flowers will be faded before we get to Ste. Yictoire," she said with a smile. "Oh, Uncle Francis will put them in the pretty gilt vases you gave him when he said his first Mass, and they will soon revive in water. They will look beautiful on each side of our Lady's statue. One day last week Annie Lecomte, you know, the daughter of the gardener just outside the town, brought some flowers to school which were much more faded, and yet they revived when Sister Angelica put them in water. But look there! Is not that our baker, Mr. Lenoir coming along, driving all aloue in his grand new cart?" "Yes, it is!" exclaimed the boy, quite delighted to see the man, with whom he had struck up a friendship, on the strength of the cakes, one or A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 9 two of which were generally given him when he went to the shop to pay the monthly bill. "Hullo, Mr. Lenoir," he shouted, waving his cap over his head, as the worthy tradesman approached at a leisurely trot : "good day to you, and a pleasant drive." "Why, that must be my young friend Charles, if my ears do not deceive me," answered the baker, bringing his stout brown cob to a standstill, and putting up the eye glass which was attached to a cord round his neck. "My eyes are not as good as my ears now, but yes, it is he sure enough.

Will you come for a drive, my boy I What, can that be you, Mrs. Montmoulin ? You do not mean to say you have walked all the way from Aix? Well, you are wonderfully strong for your years. I could not have walked half so far, though I am a good many years your junior." "No doubt of that, my good man," said the old lady. "My feet have not to carry your weight. But for the matter of that, I am really much more fatigued than I thought I should be." The good-natured baker burst out laughing. "True," he said, "my legs have twice as much above them as yours have. That comes from all the flour and other stuff that gets down my throat every day. But where are you bound for, this lovely spring-day ?" "We are going to Ste. Yictoire. I wanted to see my son again after the winter, so I thought I would take advantage of the fine weather to visit him with my grandchildren." "How fortunate! T can take you all three as 10 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. far as the inn, and it is no distance from there up to Ste. Yietoire. Come, let me help you up at once ; and you Charles, help your sister to get up behind." Mrs. Montmoulin demurred a little at first at accepting this offer, but it was no use; with a shout of delight Charles clambered up into the light, two-wheeled cart and dragged his sister after him, while the grandmother, with the assistance of her friendly acquaintance, got up in front and seated herself beside him, overwhelming herself in apologies. "Don't say a word about trouble, ma'am," the baker rejoined, touching his horse with the whip. "I feel it a pleasure to drive a lady like you. I have more respect for hands that bear the marks of honest work, than those whose fingers are covered with diamond rings. I have had myself to work hard from my youth up, and if God has prospered my exertions more than those of some men, I have no reason to boast of it. So you are on your way to Ste. Victoire, to see your son ? Well, I am sure he ought to be proud of having so excellent a mother. But do tell me — not that I want to meddle in your private affairs—the worthy Priest has a very good income, has he not ? Could he not do something more for you now, as you are getting into years ? It must have been a hard struggle for you to defray his expenses at the Seminary." Mr. Lenoir was a very worthy man but he did not possess much tact. Mrs. Montmoulin knew that he meant well, so she suppressed the feeling A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 15 commencement of the ill-fated war put an end to all our happiness. My husband carried on a trade

in fruit ; on one occasion when he came into Pro- vence to purchase a quantity of the dried plums of these parts, I made his acquaintance. My parents consented to our union, so I followed him to the Ehineland as his wife. We got on well until the outburst of the war ; and almost before we were aware of it, the Germans surrounded Strasburg. Those were terrible times, Mr. Lenoir; one did not dare to venture into the streets because the enemy's shells flew about on all sides. After the defeat at Metz all hope of an accommodation was at an end. The quarter of the town where we lived was most hotly attacked. Before the bombardment began in earnest, through the intervention of some Swiss gentlemen of position, permission was obtained for the old men, women and children to leave the town. This was proclaimed with beat of drum in the streets, and immediately George said the children and I must go. Our parting was a truly sorrowful one. For the children's sake I complied with my husband's wish. Francis was then a lad of sixteen and still attending the Gym-

nasium ; Charlotte was a few years younger. We bade each other an affectionate farewell, then I joined the band of exiles — some two thousand in all—which were to pass through the enemy's lines under the escort of our Swiss friends, and proceed to Bale. Before we had crossed the frontier the cannonade in our rear announced that the attack

on the city had begun, and soon a red glare lit up the sky in the direction we had left. Ere long we 16 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

heard that the authorities had surrendered ; and I learnt from the newspapers a portion of the misfortune that had befallen us, it was said that every house in the quarter where our home was situated was reduced to ashes. I waited from day to day, looking for tidings of my husband ; I felt daily more convinced that had he been alive he would have come, or at least would have written to us. The worthy people who had offered a refuge to the children and myself tried to console me by saying that no dependance could be placed on the post in time of war ; they sought to deter me from returning to Strasburg, but at the end of a week, I could bear the separation no longer. Leaving my children under the care of our kind entertainers, I took the train to Strasburg. God grant that you may never witness such a sight as met my eyes! Just as, after clambering over heaps of debris and still smoldering ruins, I reached the spot where our house had stood, I saw the police extricating the body of my dear husband from beneath the rubbish. I identified him by his clothes and his wedding ring. See, this is the ring." So saying, Mrs. Montmoulin brought out a bent and blackened ring, and showed it to the man, who had listened to her narrative with the deepest interest. "One can see that it was in the fire as well as its master," he said as he examined it closely. "It has been indented too by the falling walls. And did the Prussians let you go without molesta- tion ! People say they were very devils." "No, they were quite civil and even allowed me to have the small sum contained in the cash- box, A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 17 which they also dug out of the ruius. Oue of the officers too, who was superintending the men, gave me half a sovereign, when he heard that I was the widow of the man whose remains had just been found, and that I was left utterly without means of subsistence. God gave me strength to bear up at that time, or my troubles would have deprived me of my reason or brought me to the grave. As soon as I had seen my poor husband buried, I hastened back to Bale, having made up my mind to go back to my old home in Provence, with the two children. The good people who had shown us hospitality would take nothing from me, not a penny! God reward them ! They even made me a little present, and bade me God speed on my journey, when we started on our way through Geneva to my dear old native town, Aix, where my mother was still living. I took the little house, our present abode, and opened a small business in woolen manufactures with the few hundred francs which George gave me when we left Strasburg, all the ready money he had at the time. This has provided us with a scanty subsistence, just enough to live on ever since. But I am wearying you with my long story,

Mr. Lenoir. You must forgive me ; when an old woman begins to talk of by-gone days, she finds it difficult to stop." u Forgive you!" her companion rejoined. "I owe you many thanks for telling me this, and I feel for you with all my heart. If ever you want a friend in need, do you come to me. Upon my word you have shown great courage. I only hope the remainder of your life will be more tranquil and 18 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. happy than the past has been, for you have had severe trials. When you go to live with your son at Ste. Victoire you will have a good time before you." "If it is the will of God, Mr. Lenoir. I have been looking forward to it for a long time," the old lady replied, and as she spoke she sighed deeply, for a dark presentiment seemed to rise up before

her, like the shadow of a heavy cloud, as if another

trial was yet in store for her. l 'If it is the will of God," she repeated gently. "I trust your hopes may soon be fulfilled.

Here we are at the inn already ! Your conversation has made the time appear so short. Now Charles, my boy, look sharp, and mind you are down here again by six o'clock." And the stout baker swung himself to the ground more nimbly than one would have thought possible for a man of his weight, and politely helped Mrs. Montmoulin to alight. The two children soon jumped down, and after heartily thanking their kind friend, they followed their grandmother on the way up the hill to the convent. CHAPTEE II.

The Priest of Ste. Victoire and his Sacristan.

The Pastor of Ste. Victoire had ended a good day's work, for Sunday was with him a laborious day, as indeed it is for most hard-working Parish Priests. On the Sunday of which we are speaking he had risen betimes and made his meditation in the Church, until it was time to ring the Angelus. This he did with his own hand, as his negligent Sacristan was not yet up. Since it was the first Sunday in Lent, a considerable number of his parishioners were desirous of approaching the Sacraments, and the good clergyman was detained for a long time in the confessional, in fact until the time for Mass. He felt almost faint when he went into the sacristy to vest ; the sacristan was there, ready to help him, but not in the best of humours, for he knew he had failed in his duty and expected a well-merited reprimand. Instead of this, to his surprise, Father Montmoulin merely observed that he had taken a long rest that morning. The sermon that day was on the Sacrament of Penance; the preacher reminded his hearers more particularly that our Lord had rendered confession much easier that it would otherwise have been, by imposing strict secrecy as a solemn obligation on the minister

who was His representative ; so that on no account, not even to avert the loss of all his temporal goods, of his reputation, even of life itself, can the Priest (19) 20 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. venture to violate the seal of the confessional. In illustration of what he said, he mentioned the well- known example of St. John Neponiucene ; and in more recent times, the case of the Polish priest who, rather than break the seal of confession, suffered shame and reproach and ended his days as an exile in Siberia. Finally he appealed earnestly to the men of his flock — of wmoni unhappily but few were present — entreating them no longer to defer the duty, perhaps already too long neglected, of making their peace with God, and participat- ing in the treasures of grace the Eedeemer purchased for us by His bitter passion and death. It was rather later than usual when Father Montmouliu, having finished the Mass, after a short but fervent thanksgiving, repaired to his own room, where a cup of coffee stood upon the table ready for him. Then the breviary — always longer in Lent — had to be recited; and almost before this was ended, half a dozen of his parishioners came in one after the other, each one needing counsel or help or consolation, according to their several circumstances. This lasted until Susan, the old housekeeper who attended to his wants, brought his frugal dinner in from the "Olive-tree" inn close by. This woman was not regularly engaged as his servant, he contemplated making a fresh arrangement, as soon as he could furnish a couple of rooms for his mother, and offer her a home under his roof. Susan was dressed in all her Sunday finery, which consisted of a frock of pale blue material with a somewhat striking pattern of yellow and red "

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 21 flowers. Over this she wore a small shawl of green striped with white, the gaudy colours being ill in keeping with her wrinkled countenance and the grey locks that were rather untidily twisted up under her cap. The good woman was, in fact not far off seventy, and could never have been a beauty in her younger days ; but that mattered little, for she was an honest old soul, and had no greater wish than to make all straight and comfortable for his Eeverence. As soon as she had put the soup upon the table, she smoothed her apron with her wrinkled old hands, and standing at a little distance she began, with the familiarity of an old domestic : "What a splendid sermon you gave us to-day, Father! All about the seal of confession, and how a priest dare not for the life of him reveal so much as one single venial sin told in confession. And the beautiful story about the Saint, and the polish Priest! I looked round me once or twice in church — I hope I did not do wrong, it was for my edification — and you should just have seen how the people were crying. The persons who ought to have heard it, like the Mayor and the Notary, and the Liberals as they call themselves, were not there, more's the pity. They have got something better to do now

than to come to church ; they are so busy with the election ! And as for one who was there, that lout of a sacristan, I saw him smiling to himself as he sat in the shade of the sacristy-door, instead of taking the sermon to heart as he should have done, and resolving at last to go to confession. "Well, Susan, we know that the most eloquent " !

22 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. discourses do not change the heart. You ought to pray very fervently, that will do more good than lamenting over the obduracy of sinners. We have a long-suffering and compassionate God who knows how to recall the wanderers to Himself. "Mercy on us! I only meant first to tell your Eeverence what a fine sermon you preached and now seemingly I have been proud and uncharitable But will you not take another slice of the roast

1 beef, Father ? No? Well, I expect it is rather tough, the butcher serves us very badly now. I have scarcely got a tooth left in my head, but you are young and with your excellent set of teeth you might manage it. Am I to clear away? I do not know however you will keep up your strength, eat- ing as little as you do." "I shall get on well enough, Susan. Now you must leave me time to get ready for Catechism, it is really more important than the morniDg's sermon," answered the Priest, watching the old woman with a smile as she carried away the dishes amid many an anxious shake of the head. When the door had closed behind her, he took up a catechism and began to think over the instruction which he had already prepared some days previously. For some time he sat at the table meditat- ing, his head resting on his hand. He was quite a young man ; his pale, rather handsome features wore a pleasing expression, for although somewhat grave, he was naturally of a blithe and cheerful disposition. The careful and pious training of his boyhood, and the course of study he had subsequently gone through, imparted a certain refine- ment to his countenance. A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 23

The whitewashed walls and simple furniture of the room were in keeping with its occupant. The old-fashioned carving of the dark wooden ceiling and door-posts bespoke considerable antiquity: and the crucifix hanging on the wall, as well as the picture of the Last Supper facing it, were far superior to the ordinary productions of modern religious art. The common gilt earthenware vases on each side of an image of our Lady of Dolours looked, it is true, somewhat out of harmony with the quaintly-carved wood-work, and the writing- table of unpolished deal, the bookshelves only half-filled with books, the plain chairs and table, testified to the poverty of the Priest. In this case however, poverty did not banish cheerfulness and content. What, in fact, did he want with grandeur and show? To his mind the fragrant hyacinths at the open window, the bright sunshine that lit up the room, the mild spring air laden with the scent of the orchards in flower, did more to make the humble apartment homelike and pleasant than rich carpets, costly paintings and luxurious furniture would have done. A sabbath stillness, an atmo- sphere of peace rested on the whole scene ; nothing in his surroundings led the good pastor to suspect how near the storm was approaching which would wreck the happiness of his tranquil life. The church-bell rang out its summons only too soon. The Priest rose, and went into the Church

to give the instruction ; to this he had to devote his whole energy. Then followed Vespers and Benedic- tion, and to wind up all, an infant was brought to be baptized. 24 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

No marvel that when Father Montmoulin at length threw himself back in his easy chair with a sigh of relief, his eyelids closed from sheer weari- ness, and drowsiness crept over him. But a moment later he started up and rubbed his eyes. "Come, come," he said to himself, "this will never do. I am too young yet to go to sleep in broad

daylight. I have just ti "°! left to look over the accounts of St. Joseph's Guild, and count the money that Mrs. Blanchard deposited with my predecessor and myself. She is coming to-morrow to fetch the whole sum; thank God, they will soon set about building the hospital. It is astonishing what an

amount these good la )S have contrived to collect. 1 w>1 ^ France is as ready as ever to the needy ; God grant she may thereby win vine favour, and the old child-like faith may revive in our land." Thus musing, he cast i glance out Ox ^he window at the quiet village that lay below, half- hidden by the trees which were now in full blossom. Then he turned to his wrii -table, and opened the drawer where he kept the cash-box containing the funds of the Guild. He spent some time reckon- ing up figures, and then slowly and doubtfully, in, it must be confessed no very business-like manner, he began to count the monies spread out on the table. "80 hundred-franc notes is 8,000 francs; 50 twenty-franc notes is 1,000 francs; that makes 9,000 francs in notes. 75 gold Napoleons added to it makes 10,500 francs; 215 five-franc pieces 1,075 francs more, and 425 francs in smaller coins. Altogether the 12,000 francs (£480) which are to —

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION, 25 be given over to Mrs. Blanch ard. Upon my word 'tis a goodly sum! I never had as much in my keeping before." Thereupon the good Priest began to count some of the rolls of silver over again; and so absorbed was he in this occupation, that he failed to hear a knock at the door. On its being- repeated rather loudly, he started and called out

"Come in" in rather a f lightened tone. In came the sacristan, and when he saw all the money laying on the table, he made no attempt to conceal his astonishment. t 'Bless my soul ! " he exclaimed, as he ran his eyes greedily over the little heap of bank notes, the glittering gold coins, and the various piles of silver money, "I beg your pardon, Father, but I really had no idea your Eeverence was so rich." "Not a penny of all this belongs to me," answered the Priest, by no means well-pleased that the sacristan, of all people, should find him engaged in counting a large sum of money. He mistrusted the man, and certainly his antecedents were not such as to inspire confidence. He was an unprepossessing-looking fellow, of average height and powerful build, not more than forty years of age, although he might have been taken for ten years older. There was a J)old, bad look in his dark eyes, and his moustache, twisted upwards at the ends gave him a somewhat rakish appearance. A broad scar, passing over the upper part of his nose and left cheek, did not add to the attractive- ness of his countenance. In fact, it would not have been easy to find anyone more unsuitable in appearance for the office he held. Albert Loser 26 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. such was his name—was a native of Lorraine, and had served in a company of Franctireurs during the Franco-German war on the French side, and as he was want to boast, had shot down not a few Prussians in cold blood. After the war was over, in reward for his exploits in the field, he received a medal, with the right to have a situation provided for him in the civil service. Several posts had been given him in succession, but his irregular conduct and neglect of duty generally led to his dismissal within a short space of time. His only recommendation, or rather claim on his country, was the sabre-cut across his face, which he alleged to be the work of a Prussian Hussar during a skirmish. In the course of his wanderings he had come about a year ago to Provence, and by his glib tongue had ingratiated himself with the Mayor, who happened to be looking out for a sacristan, and offered the vacant post to the "hero of many battles.' 7 Loser accepted it on trial; "I never could tolerate Priests, " he said to the Mayor, "but beggars must not be choosers." Nothing better having presented itself since, he had kept the situation, thanks to the favour he found with the Mayor, although he had given the Priest grave cause for dissatisfaction. It will readily be imagined that the appearance upon the scene of such a man as this was rather disconcerting for Father Montmoulin, who remarked the covetous look in his eyes as they rested upon the gold. It flashed through his mind in an instant that he was all alone in the rambling, old- fashioned building with this man whom he knew A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 27 to be unscrupulous, not a soul being within call. Involuntarily he started to his feet and stood between Loser and the table whereon the money lay, placing his hand on a chair, as the only weapon of defence within reach, and repeating in a determined manner : "The money does not belong to me, it has been collected by St. Joseph's Guild, and is intended for the building of a new hospital. Mrs. Blanchard is coming to fetch it tomorrow or the next day." "You need not be alarmed, your Beverence," rejoined Loser with a mocking smile, for he guessed the good priest's thoughts. "I shall not take you for one of the accursed Prussians, whose game I stopped — all is fair in war, and for the sake of one's country. There is not a more harmless man in creation than I am in time of peace, I cannot say Bo to a goose, upon my honor. And as this money is for the sick and needy, I will not ask so much as a penny of it. And do you think I would demean myself to filch one of those pretty banknotes — all of a hundred francs, I do believe —either by fair means or foul 1 Fie, fie, Father, I would not have credited you with such rash judgment! But it all comes of your mistaken idea that only your pious folk have any idea of honour. It is quite true that I have not been to the sacraments for twenty years or more, and don't mean to neither, in spite of your Beverence's fine sermon about confession, yet none shall say that Albert Loser is not an honest man ! " And as he uttered these words in tones of righteous indignation, striking his breast in a theatrical manner, he was busy " '

28 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION, plotting a scheme which was diametrically opposed to the virtues he claimed for himself. The simple-minded Priest only thought at the moment how he could best get the man to his duties. U I am very sorry, my good fellow/ 7 he said, "if I judged you somewhat hardly; but just tell me, how can one expect a man to be very conscientious who has neglected to fulfil his bounded duty towards God and his own immortal soul for twenty or five and twenty years." Qui sibi nequam, cui bonas f Will a man who is his own enemy be

' a friend to others % u Well, well, Father, one would think you had preached enough for to-day! Who knows if there really is a God, and if there is, whether He troubles Himself about such insignificant creatures as you and me. And as for an immortal soul, science has long since shown that we have nothing of the sort. But I did not come here to discuss these matters with you, Father. Of course God exists for you, and you must have an immortal soul, it belongs to your profession. u You forget yourself strangely, Loser!" interrupted the clergyman, repressing with difficulty the just anger he felt at this godless way of talking. "What did you come to ask me!" u Ah, true. The sight of all this wealth for the Church and the poor put my own business out of my mind ;" Loser replied. "I wanted to ask for a holiday till next Saturday. You can get along quite well without me in the week. I should like to go to Marseilles, where a friend of mine has heard of a situation which I think will suit me ' "

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 29 better than being a sacristan. Where have I put his letter to—" he concluded, feeling in his pockets. "Never mind about showing ine the letter," answered the Priest, while the man was still fumb- ling in his pockets. "Go to Marseilles by all means, and I hope you will meet with something desirable. I will ring the Angelus myself, I am generally up before you are. Old Susan can open and shut the church ; leave the key on the kitchen table. When are you going T "I shall start tonight. I can easily catch the last train from Aix. I am much obliged to you for giving me leave of absence. And may I venture, seeing your Eeverence is flush of cash just now, to ask for a little loan — a mere trifle — one of the hundred-franc-notes I see there." "I have already told you that this money is not mine to dispose of. And if it were, it is quite against my rule to lend you money." "Well, if you consider me a thief— "It is quite against my rule, and that is enough. But if a small gratuity out of my own pocket will be of any service to you—" and the Priest held out a five-franc piece to the man, for the sake of getting rid of him. "I will accept it as my well-earned due," answered Loser, as he slipped the coin into his waistcoat pocket. "I will not take it as an alms, I am not a beggar. Besides I shall soon be out of my little financial difficulties. I expect a legacy, an aunt in Lorraine, quite a rich woman, is said to be

! ' dying. I wish your Eeverence good day ' And 30 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. with a low bow, and another greedy glance at the money on the table, he took his departure. " Thank Heaven the hateful man is gone," exclaimed Father Montmoulin, with a sigh of relief. "I must confess I am right glad that he is going away tonight. I should hardly feel it safe to pass the night alone with him in this desolate old house, now that he has discovered how large a sum I have in my keeping. Heaven forgive me if I do him wrong, but that man seems to me most untrust- worthy. He is quite capable of making a feint of going away and coming back secretly tonight. My best plan will be to take the money to the Mayor. Besides it might give me an opportunity of getting on more friendly terms with that good gentleman; hitherto he has always sided against me." Whilst thus soliloquizing, Father Montmoulin wrapped up the money, after counting it again hastily, in one of his large red and white cotton handkerchiefs, and deposited it for the time being in the drawer of his desk. Just as he was taking the key out of the lock, the clear merry tones of a boyish voice were heard through the open window. Looking out, the worthy Priest saw his Mother with his Sister's two children in the act of crossing the courtyard. "Is that really you, Mother," he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with pleasure. "Here I am, as you see Francis, and I hope I find you well and happy," was the answer that came up from below ; the children adding their greetings. A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 31

But their Uncle, leaving the door of his room open behind him, was already hastening along the dimly-lighted corridor to the stairs, which led down into what was formerly the cloisters. He met his mother just as she reached the archway which connected the outer building with what in by-gone days was the enclosure. He welcomed her and embraced her affectionately ; then, drawing her out of the dark passage into the day-light, he scanned her features anxiously, for it was some months since he last saw her, and he had heard from his sister that she had several times been unwell. "Last winter has not improved my appearance, has iM" she said cheerily. "I have not grown

younger ; look what ugly wrinkles have made their appearance, and my hair has turned quite white." "I think your white hair is very becoming to you, mother ; and as for the wrinkles, we will see if we cannot smooth them out, and give you round rosy cheeks again," rejoined the young Priest. "I have good news for you," he continued. "In a few week's time we will have your room fitted up for you beautifully. At present my funds are rather low. But come upstairs now, we must have an extra strong cup of coffee in your honour. Look here, Charles, run down to the baker's, will you, the third shop in the village street, and fetch two or three rolls and a dozen sweet cakes. Here is some money. Now Julia, you must see if you can help make the coffee." uOh, I can make coffee all alone, and good coffee too," answered the girl, while her brother 32 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

scampered off to the baker's in high glee. "If only old Susan has left enough coffee ready ground," she added. She ran lightly upstairs, for having been at Ste. Yictoire before, she knew her way about the old convent, only pausing a moment to listen to her grandmother's injunction to put on an apron, and be sure not to soil her Sunday frock. Father Montmoulin, meanwhile, conducted his mother with a somewhat more sober step to his room. Little did he suspect that, while the scene we have described was being enacted below, Loser was still spying about his room, lurking in the dark angles of the corridor. It is necessary to explain that the old convent, built on a ledge of

rock, formed three sides of a quadrangle ; the church on the left, and a corresponding wing on the right, being connected by a wide facade. The front of the building, two stories high, looked down into the valley where the village lay. The Priest occupied a goodsized room in the angle where the two corridors leading respectively to the church on one side and the right wing on the other, met. In former times this had probably been the Abbess' room, as it commanded a view of both corridors, and the double row of cells opening into them. Communicating with this sitting-room was a small bed-room, the only one to which access could not be had from the corridor. On the other side there was no adjoining room, as a space had been left to allow of the corridor being lighted by a window in the outside wall, without which it would have been almost completely in darkness. Opposite the :

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 33

Priest's rooms, in the inner angle of the building, was a small apartment separating the rows of cells it was very dark, as the window was small, but there was a door on either side, leading into the two wings. In this room, probably once the kitchen of the infirmary, was a cooking-stove which served for the preparation of the good pastor's simple

meals ; the kitchen of the convent being a spacious apartment with a vaulted roof on the ground floor. To this little kitchen Loser had betaken himself on quitting the Priest's presence. He made a critical survey of the narrow, ill-lighted chamber, with its twofold means of exit. When, in obedience to the Priest's directions, he laid his bunch of keys on the table, he pulled open the drawer, and began to examine its contents. Amongst these was a sharp carving-knife, with the initials F. M. engraved on a silver plate let into the handle ; this he took up, and felt the edge with his finger. "That is by no means blunt," he said to himself; then holding it like a dagger, he made a swift lunge with it in the air, before replacing it in the drawer, which he closed. "We shall not want that," he muttered, "though it might be the shortest way. No, no; I hate bloody work." At that moment he heard Father Montmoulin calling from the window to his friends below, and immediately afterwards saw him hasten down stairs. Taking for granted that the exchange of greetings would occupy some time, Loser ventured to go back to the Priest's room. "Confound it!" he exclaimed, "he has put all the chink away! Hullo there, the key is left in the desk, let us have 34 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

a look inside. 'Pon my word there is the whole blessed lot, wrapped up neatly in a handkerchief quite handy to take away. Shall I do this good office for him.' " The man's hand was already on the parcel, but prudence prevailed. "He would find it out tonight, and the police would arrest me. Do not be a fool, old fellow, you shall have the pelf, but one must not be precipitate." He withdrew his hand reluctantly, and locked the desk. "I will take the key," he added, "it may come in handy. If he misses it, he will only think he mislaid it in his hurry." Loser had only time to slip the key into his waistcoat pocket, to give a glance at the bed-room beyond, and dart back into the kitchen, before Julia's footsteps were heard approaching, as she ran singing up the stairs. To avoid being seen, he went out by one of the side doors into the adjoining corridor, where a winding staircase enabled him to reach his own quarters, the porter's lodge at the principal entrance. He locked himself in, to avoid being disturbed while he was concocting his plans, and getting all in readiness. About an hour later he emerged from his room, dressed for a journey, with hat and stick, and a small travelling bag slung round his shoulders. He fastened the door behind him, taking with him the ponderous, old- fashioned key. We will follow him for a short distance before returning to Father Montmoulin and his unexpected visitors. He first turned his steps in the direction of the "Golden Eose," one of the village inns, which at this time of year was generally pretty full of a Sun- A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 35

day afternoon. Today there was not an empty seat, and the worthy landlord, Daddy Carillon, as he was familiarly called, with his black velvet skull-cap and white apron, had enough to do edging in and out among his guests, ministering to their anxious wants. The room was full of smoke, and politics were being eagerly discussed, as glass after glass of absinthe, or of the red wine of the country was being consumed. "Who comes now? Why our Sacristan to be sure!" exclaimed the host, as Loser made his appearance in the door-way. "Not converted yet by our good Pastor's sermon this morning? But I see you have a travelling bag, where are you off to now?" "I am off to Marseilles by the last train," Loser answered, raising his voice so as to be heard by all present. UI have come in for a small legacy in Lorraine, an old aunt of mine has just died, awfully rich old woman. Of course the priests have grabbed the principal part of the property, for the poor old soul was one of your pious sort. However she has had the sense to leave a trifle to her godless nephew, somewhere about a couple of thousand pounds. Now those devils of Prussians, who have not forgotten the brave Franctireur who carried their outpost at Bar-le-Duc, and blew up a bridge at Fontenay under their very noses, will not give up -the money to me. I must get legal advice, and

perhaps I shall not be back until next Sunday, if they are slow about it." This intelligence made quite a stir in the inn parlour. Some of the guests congratulated Loser 36 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

on his good fortune ; some advised him to apply to the Governor at Marseilles, others would have him lay his grievances before the President of the Bepublic, or appeal to Parliament. War ought to be declared with Prussia if every penny of tfce sum was not paid within twenty-four hours. Loser began to fear he had gone a little too far. He begged the good people who espoused his cause so earnestly to wait for further information ; he would make the Germans look small, he said, when they got a lawyer's letter from this side of the frontier. Then taking the key of his lodge and that of the Convent gate out of his pocket, he handed them to the landlord, requesting him to take care of them during his absence. He was about to take his departure, but Daddy Carrillon would not let him go so unceremoniously. "Plenty of time yet to catch the night train," he cried. "You must do me the honour, Mr. Loser, to take a glass with me and my friends here, to drink your health, and good success to your business. I have always regarded you as a patriot, Mr. Loser, as a hero, I may say, and the scar that marks your cheeks is a decoration to be prouder of than the ribbon of the Legion of Honour which the Prefect of our Department wears on his breast, though he has never been in a single engagement. And I have always regarded you too, Mr. ^oser, as an honourable man, to whom fate has not given his deserts, since you, a man of advanced thought, are compelled to pander to the clericals, and serve an effete superstition. But at length fortune has been kind to you; and if, now that you are a A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 37 gentleman of property, a man of wealth, we cannot expect to see you again in our humble village—for doubtless you will find elsewhere an appointment more commensurate with your talents,— if you find a more fitting sphere in which to serve your country, may we beg, Mr. Loser, that when basking in the sunshine of your happiness, you will not altogether forget your old friends at Ste. Victoire. I drink to your good health, Sir!" Although up to this time Loser had borne by no means the best of characters in the village, yet all persons applauded this speech and joined in a hearty cheer, congratulating him on his good fortune and coming greatness. The inn-keeper was quite elated by his oratorical performance, and shook hands all around, before taking the head of the table, with Loser by his side. Twilight had long fallen on the scene before the sacristan left the Golden Rose, and took the road to Aix, being escorted for a part of the way by some of his boon companions. CHAPTEE III.

Joyous plans and sad forebodings.

Meanwhile Father Montmoulin had installed his mother in the large easy-chair, and submitted to be minutely questioned by her as to his health and general well-being. The result of the intero- gatory was on the whole satisfactory ; the old lady thought her son looking rather pale and thin, but otherwise fairly well. She told him he must take more care of himself, take the greatest care of himself, and not sit up studying at night, and above all not think of fasting. The young Priest smiled good-humouredly at these motherly injunctions, and quieted her with the assurance that he felt quite well and strong. And in future, he added, she would be able to look after him herself ; as soon as she had rested a little, and had a cup of coffee, he wanted her to go and choose the rooms she would like fitted up for her. "Let us go at once," she rejoined; "I really am not tired, and the children will be here afterwards, and one can say nothing before them. Of course I should like to be as near as I can to you." Father Montmoulin accordingly showed his mother the two nearest cells in the left wing, which, as we have said, were parted from his own rooms by a narrow passage, for the sake of admit- ing light to the corridor. The rooms had a pleasant lookout upon the hills, and were comparatively in good repair. Yet Mrs. Montmoulin preferred (38) A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 39 the two on the other side, adjoining her son's bedroom. i 'We must provide for all needs," she said. "An old woman like myself ought to think seriously of death ; if I am here I should only have to knock on the wall if anything unexpected happened. And see what a delightful view there is from these windows, all down the valley!" "Just as you please, mother," her son replied. "The other rooms are rather larger and more airy, but we will furnish these up nicely for you ; the ceilings shall be whitewashed and the walls papered afresh. I have got a book of patterns, so you shall select the paper yourself. Tomorrow I will see about getting the whitewashers and paperhangers, and about mid-lent it will be ready for you to move in. Then I hope you will have a tranquil, happy time, after all the storms it has pleased God that you should pass through. "How kind you are Francis," exclaimed the happy mother, wiping a tear from her eye. "I never doubted your affection for me. But how will you manage, with your scanty income, to do all this?" "Do not let that trouble you mother. Mrs. Blanchard, the President of St. Joseph's Guild, a wealthy and charitable widow, somewhere about your age, (who, by the bye, is looking forward with much pleasure to make your acquaintance, and with whom I doubt not you will pass many a pleasant hour, working for the poor) had the excellent idea of presenting me with a good round sum to make my rooms more comfortable, and add a few books to my small library. So you may be at 40 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

ease on that point, mother ; but coine along now, the coffee must be ready; I think I hear Julia calling us." They turned into the dark kitchen, where the little girl had just made the coffee. "You see how

' good it will be Grandmother, ' she cried triumphantly. "But the table is not laid yet, and there are such a lot of books on it! And Charlie has not come back from the baker's. Do please help me!" The books were soon cleared away, a white cloth laid on the table, and the cups and saucers set out. "This one with the gold rim is for "Uncle," the child said, as she passed the cups in review; "Grandmother shall have the one with the motto, I will have the pretty one with the flowers, and this cracked one will do quite well for Charles. I wish the stupid boy would bring the bread!" "Here I am," said Charles, who entered at that moment laden with a bag of sweet cakes and another containing rolls, "I don't see why you

should call me stupid ! Here is your change, Uncle, and the baker said a penny was for me." "Is that to buy sweets, my boy?" his Uncle rejoined as he gave him back the penny. "No Uncle, I shall put it into the box for the heathen, that the poor children may be baptized, when I go as a missioner to the foreign lands you have told me of." "Well done, my boy! you shall have another penny for that," the Priest rejoined. 1 'And please a penny for me too, for making you such nice coffee," Julia put in. "You shall have it," replied her Uncle. "Is that to go into the collecting-box too?" A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 41

"Oh, good Heavens, I shall never go out to the islands where the horrible cannibals live ! perhaps I will put a half-penny in." "Well, well," said the Priest, "do as you please, only do fetch your wonderful coffee, we are more than ready for it." Soon all four were sitting round the table, enjoying the refreshing beverage, with which no fault could be found, and munching the crisp cakes. Charles claimed an extra cake as his guerdon for having fetched them, besides he remarked that his sister had kept the best cup for herself. "Very well," said his Uncle, "justice demands that Charles has another biscuit, and Julia another cup of coffee. Now when you have done, children, you may make a tour of inspection of all the empty cells, and select bedrooms for yourselves when you come to spend your holidays with your Grand- mother and me." "Hurrah, that will be jolly!" the boy exclaimed. "Make haste Julia, finish your coffee." "If I come with you you must promise to stay with me, for I should be quite afraid to be left alone in the dark passages and empty cells," the girl answered. l 'But I shall not want a room for myself. I may sleep with you, Grandmother, in the holidays, may I not, I should die of fright, if I was alone at night. Don't you know, the last nuns who were here, were all guillotined in one day, twenty-two of them, in the courtyard down below. And old Susan says that on moonlight nights, they walk in procession up and down the corridors, with their heads in their hands! That is the reason why she 42 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. persists in sleeping down at the "Olive tree" inn; for nothing in the world would she pass a night here, she says,"

"The old woman ought not to fill your head with such rubbish, child," the Priest rejoined. "The good religious were not executed here, but on the market-place in Aix, and they will do you no harm, for they were martyrs and are now in heaven. They were put to death because they prayed for good King Louis XVI, and he died the death of a Saint." The children having finished their coffee ran off on a voyage of discovery through the deserted cloisters, leaving the mother and son to have a conversation together concerning the prospect of happier times to come after all the troubles of the past.

"I do not know how it is," Mrs. Montmoulin presently remarked, "whether it is the gloomy impression made on me by this almost untenanted convent, or the timidity engendered by past mis- fortunes, that makes me unable to believe that there are tranquil and joyous days in store for me in my old age ; on the contrary, I seem to feel as if some new trial threatened to fall on us.". "We are in the hand of God, whatever happens," her son replied, "and if it please Him to send us fresh troubles we must bear them with the help of His grace. But really I see no cause for apprehension at present. I have a good appointment here; the greater part of my parishioners seem fond of me ; I have no personal enemies. The party who are hostile to the Church are of course a A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 43 thorn in my side, but so long as I do my duty, they cannot injure me. Besides I am very careful to keep clear of mixing in politics. My ecclesiastical superiors are satisfied with me ; only yesterday I received a very flattering letter from the Vicar- General, expressing his approval of some essays I had published in the Clerical Journal. I tell you this to set your mind at rest. He offered me at the same time a Professorship in the Greater Seminary, to which a very good salary is attached; but I prefer to remain here and occupy myself with reading and the care of my flock. If I went to the Seminary, I should be compelled to relinquish the pleasure of having you with me, and requiting you in some measure for all the cares and privations my schooling and subsequent training cost you. So keep up your spirits, mother." At this juncture the door bell rang, and Father Montmoulin put his head out of the window to see who was there. It was a-boy in the costume of the peasants of that part of the country ; he made a sign that he wanted the door opened, which Loser had closed behind him on taking his departure. "A sick-call, probably," said the Priest, with a

' shade of impatience ; 'these people always send for me at such inopportune times." Stepping out into the corridor, he called Charles, and bade him go

down to the door ; in a few moments he returned with the messenger, who had in fact been sent to summon the Priest to a distant hamlet among the mountains. "Mother said, would your Eeverence please come quick, or father would die without the Blessed 44 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

Sacrament and the holy Oils," said the boy, as he told his somewhat incoherent narrative. "He fell off his chair all of a sudden, as we sat at supper, and since then he has not spoken a word, only makes a strange noise in his throat, like our farm- servant, when he gets drunk. But father had taken nothing but a bowl of soup. Please come at once, Father." "I will come, my little man. Your father seems to have had some kind of stroke. I hope it will not be so very bad. That sort of thing often passes off. However, I will make haste. You see mother, I must bid you good-bye at once. Dear me, I have just remembered all that money of Mrs. Blanchard's, it will never do to leave the house unprotected. St. Joseph, give me good counsel. I cannot go a mile out of my way to take it to the Mayor, or get some neighbour to come and act as care-taker ; that would want such a long explanation, and the sick man -might die before I got to him. And the salvation of a soul, perhaps quiver- ing in the balance, is more important than the safety of this sum of money. I know what might be done. Could you oblige me, mother, by staying here for the night with the children? -I have a large sum in my keeping, here in this desk, and you can understand that I do not feel justified in leaving it unguarded in an empty house. You can make yourselves comfortable for the night — you see I must attend to my pastoral duties." "Yes, I will stay, if there is no other alternative," said the old lady, a little flustered. "But would it not be better to put the money into your A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 45 bedroom, and then we can lock ourselves in, and it will be' much safer than in the sitting room." "True; do whatever you think right. Here is the key—no, where have I put it? I had it in my hand when you arrived. Never mind, there is not time to hunt for it now. We will move desk and all into the bedroom, it is not heavy." Then a sudden suspicion passed through the triest's mind — was it possible that Loser had — "We must first ascertain," he said, "that it is really here. Quick Charles, fetch me the key of my wardrobe, it fits this desk." The few moments that elapsed before the child returned were moments of painful suspense for the

Priest ; at length the desk was unlocked, and to his great relief, the handkerchief in which he had wrapped the money lay there just as he had left it. "Again I was wrong in my suspicions," he said to himself. "Now we will not lose a moment. Come Benny, you go with me to the sacristy, and I will get the holy oils, and to the church, that I may take the Blessed Sacrament, and you must carry the lantern. And you Charles, take the keys of the church — you will find them on the kitchen table, and lock the door of the church after us ; I have the key of the housedoor in my pocket. Now mother, make whatever arrangement you like." Then turning to the boy, he asked how far it was to the hamlet where he lived? "I can go in about an hour, Father." "Well yes," the Priest replied, "but you run over the hills like a chamois, and along paths that are too steep for me, especially at night. I may 46 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. not be back before midnight, or even before morning. So you settle yourselves comfortably for the night ; leave this rug here for me in case I return ; I have often slept in an armchair. Now good-night and God bless you ! May His holy Angels watch over us all!" So saying, Father Montmoulin, accompanied by the two boys, hurried along the corridors, through which they could hardly see their way, to the church. From a tribune at the end of the corridor, whence a view of the choir and chancel with the ever-burning lamp could be obtained, a winding staircase led down to the sacristy. There the Priest took the holy oils, and all that was necessary for administering the sick, and put them into a bag which he placed round his neck. Then going up to the altar, he opened the tabernacle and took from the ciborium a Host, which he adored, and placed in the small silver-gilt pyx upon his breast. He then left the church in solemn silence, bearing his God and future Judge hidden under the sacramental veil, preceded by the boy with the lighted lantern. Charles followed reverently to the church door, which he closed carefully, as soon as the Priest with his little companion had disappeared in the fast falling twilight. Passing through the church, lighted only by the flickering rays of the lamp suspended before the tabernacle, the boy re-entered the sacristy. In the church he was not afraid, for as he bent his knee before the altar, he said to himself, "our Blessed Lore}, is there." But in the sacristy a nameless terror took possession of him, he could not summon A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 47 up courage to mount the dark winding stair to the tribune, and traverse the gloomy corridor to the Priest's apartments without a light. He remembered that there was a taper on the altar by the Missal; this he took, and lighting it at the lamp, he began, not with considerable trepidation, to ascend the stairs, shielding the light with his hand. About half way up he passed a door which he had not observed on his way down, and taking it for the door of the tribune, he pushed it open and went through. It led into a small room, a kind of outer sacristy, in which all manner of church furniture, frames for holding candlesticks or lanterns, pro- cessional crosses, candelabra, trestles, and all the various things used from time to time for the services of the Church were stored. But the first object that caught the eye of the trembling boy was the pall, upon which a large skull and cross bones were painted. With a shriek of terror he let the taper fall, turned and rushed up the stairs into the tribune, whence he fled along the corridor until he gained his Uncle's rooms. The old grandmother had no little difficulty in soothing the child, who burst into the room pale and trembling in every limb, as if he had seen a ghost. His sister too was so frightened by what he told her, that she begged her grandmother to let them go home. Mrs. Montmoulin, on whom the deserted Convent made anything but a pleasant impression, would gladly have acceded to the children's wishes, had she not promised her son to take care of the house and the sum of money for which he was responsible. She decided however 48 A VICTIM TO. THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. to send the children down to the place where they were to meet Mr. Lenoir, and to remain in the honse herself for the night. "Quick, children," she said, "run as fast as you can down the hill to the 'Four Ways' inn where we got down. You cannot miss your road, and Mr. Lenoir will not have gone, ask him very politely to be so kind as to take you with him. Tell him I am obliged to stay here to take care of the house, but mind you do not say a word about the money." Thereupon she put the rest of the biscuits that were standing on the table into the children's pockets, tied a scarf round their necks, and took them down the wide flight of stairs to the door. Then she kissed them both, and stood looking wistfully after them, as hand in hand they raced down the hill, till the village street hid them from sight. Then she fastened the door, and with a heavy heart wended her way back to her son's apartments, jl $ "I am almost as much of a coward as my little boy," she said to herself as she began to clear the table. Then she opened the desk and took out the handkerchief containing the money. "What a weight it is!" she ejaculated, and unable to refrain from looking at the contents, she unknotted the handkerchief. The good old woman had never in her life seen so large a sum, gold, silver, and a whole packet of banknotes. She felt quite alarmed, and glanced involuntarily at the door, to see whether it was properly closed ; then wrapping it up again, she carried the treasure into the next room, and concealed it in her son's bed. "I hope "

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 49 all will turn out well," she soliloquized. "If some unprincipled man knew that I was all alone in this lonely house, with all this money in my charge — well, I had better not think too much about what might happen! Slowly pacing up and down the sitting room, the old lady recited the Eosary for the holy souls, whilst the shades of twilight deepened into night. She did not light a candle, but laid down without undressing on the bed, thinking she would keep awake until her son returned. The door of communication between the two rooms she carefully bolted, that being the only means of access to the chamber, but she left the door of the outer room unlocked, in case he should come back before the morning. For a long time she lay there without closing her eyes ; at length however, she fell into a doze. A sharp gust of wind, rattling the window, startled her into wakefulness ; she sprang up. Was

1 some one trying to get in through the window ?

No, the weather had suddenly changed ; the mistral, the biting north-east wind which in the valley of the Ehone often breaks in upon the early spring of Provence with icy breath and heavy showers, had banished the soft breezes of the Mediterranean and covered the heavens with dark rain-clouds. Already the first large drops beat upon the panes. c 'My poor Francis ! I only hope he will not contract some illness in this terrible weather ! " sighed the anxious mother. She struck a light ; it wanted an hour to midnight. She lay down again, and soon fell into an uneasy slumber. Before long she again started up, aroused this time by a peculiar sound, 50 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL, OF CONFESSION. as if some one in the next room were trying the door. "Is that you, Francis, " she exclaimed aloud. The sound ceased immediately, and all was again quiet. The old lady listened for a few moments, then she laid her head back on the pillow. "I must have been dreaming, " she said, and fell this time into a deep sleep, from which she did not awake until the morning. — "

CHAPTEE IV.

A scheme of guilt.

Loser reached the "Four Ways" inn soon after the children, and stood by while Charles, with frequent interruptions on Julia's part, gave his* friend the baker the reasons why his grandmother was remaining for the night in the Convent, whilsf he and his sister were to return to Aix. The account he gave was not very clear, and at the story of the ghost the stout baker shook his head incredulously. One thing however was evident; the children were afraid of spending the night in the deserted Convent and therefore wanted to return home; but why their grandmother should not go with them remained a mystery. "Why," Charles said, "Uncle has a whole lot of money in his desk — "You know we were to say nothing about that," interposed Julia sharply. "Why not?" her brother retorted. "Mr. Lenoir is not a thief." "That I certainly am not," the baker interrupted. "But make haste and jump up, it is already late. You shall sit one on each side of me in the front seat and we shall see how fast my good horse can run. Yes, I understand now why your grandmother sends you off alone. Yet this very morning she was saying her son, your Eeverend Uncle—never mind, it is no business of mine. Can I do any thing for you, Sir?" 51 < > 165230 52 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

These latter words were addressed to Loser, who had been near enough to overhear the main part of the conversation, and who now stepped up to the cart just as the horse was in the act of starting, and asked if he could be driven to Aix for a trifling compensation? "How came you by that scar all across your face?" inquired the baker, who did not much like the look of the man.

1 'I have to thank an accursed Prussian Hussar for that, in the course of the late war," was the answer. "Up with you then, Sir, you must sit here by me and tell me the whole story. Make room for the gentleman, Charles, all honour to the brave defenders of our country." So Loser seated himself in the place Mrs. Mont- moulin had occupied a few hours previously, and romanced so freely about the exploits he had achieved in the Franco-German war, that he positively fascinated the worthy baker. In fact Mr. Lenoir went a good distance out of his way to set the hero of many battles down at the station, and far from taking anything from him, he treated him to a glass of Bordeaux at the buffet, and shook hands heartily with him on parting. As -he left the station he heard Loser asking at the booking office for a ticket to Marseilles, and being informed that the train did not go for another hour. A few minutes later Lenoir put the children down at their mother's door, and went home quite elated to repeat to his wife the wonderful deeds of the brave veteran with the scar of the sabre-cut. A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 53

Meanwhile Loser provided himself at the station with a flask of brandy and some sandwiches which he put into his pocket, and then pacing about the waiting-room, he made himself as conspicuous as possible, asking one railway official after another about his ticket and the time of the train, until one

of the porters told him that if he could not wait like other people, he had better have a special train

put on for him. Loser laughed and said if he could have it at the expense of the Company he would only be too glad, as he was in a hurry to get to Marseilles. At length the train was signalled, and as it came into the station, Loser, together with a crowd of other passengers, pressed forward to find a place. The train was very full, and hearing the porters call out "plenty of room behind," he hastened to the lower part of the pjlatform, less bril- liantly lighted than the upper. "Room in here, be quick, there is no time to lose," said the guard, opening the door of one of the last compartments, observing as he did so, the ugly scar on the face of the passenger, whose ticket he at the same time clipped. Almost immediately the whistle sounded, and the engine began to move. Before his fellow- passengers had settled themselves in their places, Loser contrived to slip out of the carriage, and make his way out of the station unobserved before the commotion caused by the out-going train had subsided.

* "There," he said to himself as he emerged into the darkness, "all has turned out just as I wished! Now if any body should assert that I was in Ste. Yictoire tonight, I could bring forward a couple of 54 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

witnesses to prove that I left for Marseilles by the last train. Certainly neither guard nor porters will remember having seen me on the way, but when a train is so full one man is not noticed. At all events I shall escape suspicion at first and that will give me time to get off with the money. What I have to do now, is to get back to Ste. Victoire without being seen. Nine o'clock," he mused after a glance at the illumined face of the station fc clock ;?"I can easily get into the Convent before midnight, and long before daybreak make off with my booty." So saying he turned his steps towards the town, choosing the most ill-lighted streets, and presently reached the open country. Walking at a brisk pace, and avoiding the most frequented roads, Loser made his way back to Ste. Victoire. He had nearly reached the village, when the rising mistral dashed the first drops of rain in his face. He took shelter under an open shed by the way side, hoping the weather would improve. But when midnight tolled out from the church tower, he again proceeded on his way, despite the stormy wind and fast-falling rain. "My booty is well worth a few drops of rain," he said to himself, "and there is this advantage at least, in the bad weather, I shall not be liable to meet any one in the street." Under cover of the darkness, he actually did reach the long rambling building unperceived, and going round to the back, entered by a gate in the outer wall which was always unlocked. Passing through the garden, he came to the quadrangle of !

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 55 which the church and convent formed three sides, the other being shut in by a high wall ; the door leading to the inner courtyard was bolted, but Loser knew where there was a broken window through which he could easily gain access to the old kitchen, now used sometimes for the manufact- ure of olive oil. Groping about between empty casks and presses he found his way to the flight of stairs leading to the second floor. There he stopped, listened awhile, and then taking off his boots, crept up the stairs. Stillness reigned every-

where ; only the wind howled dismally in the empty corridors. And now the man's courage suddenly failed him. This was the first really criminal act of his life, for which perhaps he would incur imprison- ment. Long years ago he had cast his belief in

God and in a future life to the winds; but if a child receives a truly christian education, the fibres of faith deep down in the soul, are not lightly eradicated, and Loser had had a good mother. Now all at once, as he stood listening in the pitch- dark passage, the remembrance of the mother whom he had lost but too soon, came back to his mind ; he seemed to hear again the words she said to him on the eve of his First Communion, after his Confession: My boy, promise me now, and promise our Lord tomorrow, that you will try to be steady, or your headstrong ways will surely get you into trouble. The promise he then gave with tears had alas not been kept, and his mother's prophecy had indeed come true. On account of his wild pranks he 56 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. had been expelled from the gymnasium, and only been forgiven through the intercession of a Priest to whom he was related ; once he barely escaped being taken before the magistrate ; at the University he squandered the slender fortune his parents left him, lost his faith, and acquired a bad name through his vicious habits. Finally, to elude his creditors, he had hastily enlisted ; and the rough life of a soldier had drawn him deeper into the abyss of social degradation and moral turpitude. And after the war, as we have seen, he had gone from one situation to another, losing each in turn through his unprincipled conduct, until, for the sake of a living, he had accepted the post of sacristan in a village church. Now he was on the eve of committing an actual crime, and the memory of his mother rose up before him like a warning angel to

deter him from it. Alas! in vain grace made this appeal to his heart. "Don't be a fool," he said to himself. "How many men who are highly esteemed rob their neighbours of hundreds of pounds through stock -jobbing! The struggle for existence compels one to it. Besides I am taking it out of no man's pocket, no one will be the poorer. If the hospital is not built by charitable contributions, the Govern- ment will build a far better and larger one. Now for it!" Loser felt his way along the wall until he reached the corner formed by the junction of the two wings of the building. While he stood in the space between the little kitchen and the Priest's apartments, he thought of the carving knife lying !

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 57 in the table drawer. Should he go in and fetch it? It might be useful in self-defence. He found his way to the table with some difficulty ; on putting his hand in the drawer he touched the knife directly. But he thrust it back somewhat roughly. "I do not want to do any harm either to Montmoulin or his mother," he said, "besides I might stumble in the dark with the stupid thing in my hand, and cut myself. I will light the little lantern, though, which his Reverence carries with him to the church of a morning.' 7 Striking a match, he found the lantern immediately, for he was thoroughly acquainted with all the Priest's habits. Covering it with his coat, Loser cautiously stepped across the corridor, and after listening at the door took occasion of a violent gust of wind, to open it gently. By the light of the lantern he perceived that there was no one in the room. Noiselessly he crept on tip-toe to the place where the desk stood, and taking the key from his waistcoat pocket, with beating heart he was about to put it into the lock when — he could hardly believe his eyes — there was another key in the lock — he turned it, and found the treasure was gone The thief was furious in being outwitted. He had laid his plans so cleverly, as he thought, and now this stupid Priest had seen through it all, and in the simplest way possible, had completely baulked him. "Who would have thought," he broke out in his rage, "that the canting fool would have taken his money-bags to bed with him like an old miser ! I would sooner strangle him with my two hands than go out of this convent without his 58 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. pelf. I will have the money." and he stepped with an oath to the door of the bedroom. He turned the

handle, but found it was bolted ; at the same time a woman's voice called out, "Is that you, Francis?" "Confound it all!" murmured the disappointed man. "What can I do now? If I burst open the door, the old wretch will set up shrieking so loud, that she will be heard in the village. Besides I cannot be sure that the Priest will not come back at any moment. It will not do to use force, at any rate not now. I must await some other opportunity." Acting on this conviction, he moved stealthily away, replaced the lantern in its former position in the kitchen, and withdrew to one of the empty cells, there to concoct fresh schemes for the accomplishment of his object. After spending some time in thought, he went back to fetch his boots from the place where he left them ; then he took the large knife out of the kitchen drawer, and proceeded, guiding himself by the wall and creeping along on tip-toe, to the tribune, where he descended the winding-stairs to the little room adjoining the sacristy, where poor Charles had been so terrified at the sight of the death's head. "I am safe here," he said to himself. "Nobody will come near this lumber-room, and I shall be able to keep a look out over the church and the cloisters, and watch for a favourable opportunity. It is very cold here, though. 'Ah, there is the pall!" He laid the knife down upon the ground, took a good draught from his flask of cognac, wrapped the pall round him and settled himself to sleep. "Bah! I am emancipated from A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 59 all foolish superstitions," he muttered. "I believe that there is nothing more after death. Yet there is something very uncanny about this wretched pall. What a coward I must be, to fancy the dead can come back." And yet for all his brag, he was unable to sleep, until he had nearly emptied his flask, then he lay in a half-besotted state until daylight recalled him to himself. CHAPTER V.

A deed of blood.

Shortly after daybreak Father Montmoulin returned home, wearied out by his long journey in the discharge of his ministerial duties. He had spent the night by the side of the sick man, awaiting the return of consciousness which would enable him to hear his confession and give him the Viati- cum : Extreme Unction he had administered immediately upon his arrival. When midni* past, a slight improvement had taken place in the condition of the patient — whose case appeared hopeless — and he regained his senses so far as to answer yes or no by signs to the questions the Priest put to him, and to strike his breast with the hand that was not paralysed, when the act of contrition was recited. Thereupon he received absolution, and the Blessed Sacrament was administered to him. This done, the Priest wished to set out immediately upon his homeward journey, but the storm, which raged far more fiercely upon the heights than in the valley below, rendered it impossible for him to leave the shelter of the cottage. "It would be certain death for you, your Reverence, Jy the good

people told him ; "even one of us would not venture by night in all this storm and rain down the pre- cipitous paths to Ste. Victoire." Towards four o'clock the tempest seemed to abate, so the Priest, who was anxious to be back in time for Mass at (60) A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 61

the usual hour of six, started on his way, accompanied by a sturdy peasant to act as his guide, and help him down the more dangerous declivities. No accident occurred, only when they were about half way, a heavy shower of half-frozen rain soaked him to the skin. On reaching home, his first act was to carry the oils and pyx to the sacristy, which could be entered from the cloisters, by passing the foot of the wind-

ing staircase we have mentioned ; he then rang the Angelus, and began to put the things ready for Mass, for he naturally thought the sacristan to be absent. IHe then opened the church, to admit a few old women who came to hear Mass. Before he could get upstairs to change his things, for he was wet through, he was asked for in the confessional, and kept there at least ten minutes listening to the scruples of a very tender conscience, and only got free by telling his penitent that he did not feel

well ; and in fact a shivering fit had come over him. When he entered his own rooms, he found his mother had been up for some time. He briefly related his own adventures, and heard from her, to his great relief, that nothing had happened to alarm her during the night ; only once she had been startled out of her sleep, and thought she heard some one trying the handle of the door, but perhaps it was only the noise of the wind. The Priest then hastily changed his things, and went down to the sacristy to vest for Mass. Directly after Mass, old Susan had, as was her custom, repaired to the kitchen, to get breakfast ready whilst the Priest made his thanksgiving. '

62 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

She was not in the best of tempers. The visit of her Master's relatives from Aix the day before was anything but agreeable to her, for she thought it might lead to her dismissal. Besides, almost all the coffee that she had roasted and ground was used up ; the cups were not washed, the sugar-basin was half-empty. Furthermore the large knife that she always used to cut the bread and butter was nowhere to be found! u They have set the place upside down," she grumbled to herself, "that does not suit me at all. All my life I have been used to keep things in order, and rather than be inter- fered with I would give notice today — ' As Father Montmoulin, having concluded his thanksgiving, came along the corridor, he could not help overhearing part of this soliloquy, for old Susan was in the habit of thinkimg aloud, especially when anything had put her out. So he goodnaturedly turned into the kitchen, to see if the storm could be allayed by a few soft words. He succeeded so far, that the old woman began to cry, saying she knew she did not give satisfaction, and could do nothing to please his Eeverence ; but he would see whether he was better served, if she were sent about her business. u Nonsense, Susan, who talks of sending you away? Surely I may have my old mother to live with me if I like? We shall want your services all the same, for you will have to help her to keep house. There is something to dry your tears," and he slipped a couple of shillings into her hand. "Now do let us have the coffee, and as soon -as you have brought it in, go as fast as you can to the ;

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 63 shop and ask Mr. Eenard if he can drive my mother to Aix today, and what time he will be going.

Then go to Mrs. Blanchard and say : my compli- ments and I should be glad if she could make it convenient to call in this morning." Susan wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron, and courtsied in acknowledgement of the gratuity. "If I only knew what has become of my big knife!" she sighed.

"Julia must have mislaid it. You will find it

' before long, ' answered the good Priest as he went on to his own room. After breakfast, during which mother and son talked freely of the pleasant prospect before them, painting in rosy tints the happy days they would spend together, Susan came back to say that the man would be pleased to drive Mrs. Montmoulin to Aix, but he must start today not later than eight and Mrs. Blanchard would pay her respects to his Eeverence between ten and eleven o'clock. "There is not a moment to be lost," said Father Montmoulin, taking a banknote out of one of the side drawers of his writing table. "Here are £20 for you. You must not refuse to take them. The good old widow gave them me, it is part of a legacy she had lately, I have the same sum for myself. Yes, you must really take it — it will do to payoff the rest of the debt you contracted on my behalf. I do not know how Mrs. Blanchard became acquainted with our straitened circumstances ; she appears to have a special gift for discerning any case of need, and assisting it to the best of her ability. She offered me the money so very kindly 64 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. that I felt I could not refuse to accept it without hurting her feelings." "Dear old lady! May God reward her," ejaculated Mrs. Montnioulin. "We must pray for her. And now farewell for the present, mother ; in a very short time I hope I shall see you here again, not to go away any more. I should like to go down to the village with you, but you know I cannot leave the house just now. Thank God, Mrs. Blanchard will be here this morning, and I shall get rid of this incubus that weighs on me, and which since yesterday forenoon has caused me real anxiety. Good-bye. Pray for me." And he kissed his mother affectionately. "I pray for you every day, do you do the same for me; now give me your blessing before I go," rejoined the old woman, kneeling down devoutly at her son's feet. Then she looked at him with a smile, though tears stood in her eyes, and turning, followed old Susan to the gate. In her hand she carried a bag containing some articles of her son's wardrobe which required repairing, for with house- wifely instinct, she had looked over his things that morning whilst awaiting his return. A s she crossed the courtyard she looked up and nodded again to her son, who was watching her departure from the window. How different the next meeting of those two was to be to what they imagined ! And yet a sort of sad foreboding lay heavy on the young man's heart. "I feel strangely depressed," he said to himself. "I believe I have got a chill, I had bettes lie down a little, as soon as Mrs. Blanchard has got clear off with the money." "

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 65

When Susan returned, he asked her to make him a cup of tea, telling her when she had done that, he would not want her any more until the next morning. He would go to bed, and try and sleep on the effects of the chill he had taken. As it was his habit to do this when he felt unwell, the old servant offered no remonstrance. She only asked if she was not to bring him any dinner, and on his replying that he had no appetite, and could, if he wanted anything, boil a couple of eggs for himself, she took her departure, saying, "Just as your Eeverence pleases. Father Montmoulin, left in solitude, first recited his Breviary. When this was done, he wrote out a list of theological books from a catalogue, intending to order them that same day. "That comes to nearly fourteen pounds," he said with a sigh, as he counted up the price of the different volumes. "I should never have ventured to expend so large an amount on my library, if that excellent lady had not given me the money on the expressed condition that I should spend it on myself and not give it away to the poor. Well, I shall have enough left to furnish the rooms for my good mother. Dear, how my head does ache! I will sit back in the easy chair, and put a wet cloth round my temples." Father Montmoulin had only just settled himself in his armchair when the clock struck ten, and a few minutes later a knock was heard at the door. "Come in," he cried, "Mrs. Blanchard to be sure, a? punctual as clock work. I must apologise, Madam," he said as she entered, "for troubling you to come round this morning ; I have been out 66 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. all night, and I seem to have got rather a bad cold." "So I see, and I am very sorry for it," answered his visitor, a lady already advanced in years, short in stature, but apparently active and robust. Her pleasant, rosy face was framed as it were, in an old-fashioned cap of quilled lace, with two carefully arranged curls of snow-white hair on each side. Her blue eyes were full of concern as she looked at the Priest, and her countenance assumed a look of motherly kindness. Setting down the basket which invariably accompanied her on her visits to the sick and needy, she took the chair he placed for her on the other side of the table at which he usually sat. "Pray do not take the cloth off your head," she entreated. "I have already heard that you had to go to the hamlet on Montalto for a sick call. To think of such an expedition as that on such a road and in such weather! It really would have been wiser not to say Mass this morning, but to have gone straight to bed. You must not mind my saying it, but indeed you do too much, you over- tax your strength ; remember you owe it to us, to your flock, to take some care of yourself!" "I will be very obedient, and drink a cup of tea and go to bed, as soon as our little business is settled," the Priest answered with a smile. "Our business is not pressing," rejoined the old lady, ' 'that can be left for some other time. At present you need rest, and ought not to do anything to try your head." "It is precisely that I may have my mind at A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 67 rest that I beg you will take the money with you this morning," the Priest replied. "We shall have done all in five minutes' time, and to tell the truth, I feel the responsibility of having so large a sum in my keeping. I am alone almost all day long in this lonely building, and at any moment I may be called away to the sick."

"If that is so, if it will be any relief to you, I will take the money away with me most willingly. But pray, Father, do not trouble yourself to count it all over to me ; I am quite certain that it is right to a penny." Whilst she was speaking, Father Montmoulin had fetched the handkerchief containing the money, and opened it on the table. Without heeding the good lady's protestations, he counted it all over to her, and finally asked her to sign the receipt he had prepared . It ran thus : Received this day of Father Montmoulin on account of the collecting committee of St. Joseph's Guild, the sum of twelve thousand francs (£480) for the re-building of the Hospital of this place, directed by the Sisters of Charity. Ste. Yictoire, 20th February 1888. (signed) Marie Blanchard. In a bold decided hand the old lady attached her signature to the receipt, and handed the pen back to the clergyman. "You are an excellent man of business," she said with a smile, "one would think you had been brought up in a merchant's office." "So I was," he rejoined. "My father was in business. Besides you know, I must have everything in black and white to lay before the Com- 68 A YICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

mittee at its next meeting, or I shall be condemned to refund the whole sum, and what would become of me then? I should have to go all round the world on a begging expedition before I could raise so large an amount as this. But joking apart, how do you propose to take the money to your house? " "Nothing is simpler. If you will lend me the handkerchief in which it is wrapped, I will lay

it in the bottom of my basket, the lid of which has concealed various things before now. No one will suspect that instead of articles of clothing or comes- tibles it contains £480. Now I will say good-bye, my dear Father. Say an Ave for your poor, useless old friend, who often trembles at the thought of the account she will have to render, we know not how soon." 11 You have not much to fear. Remember our Lord's words: 'Come, ye blessed of my Father!

For I was hungry, and you gave me to eat ; I was

thirsty, and you gave me to drink ; I was naked and you covered me. As long as you did it to one of these my least brethren, ye did it to me.' This is what our Lord will say, when good Mrs. Blanchard knocks at the gate of heaven with her basket on her arm, which is worth a great deal more than four hundred and eighty pounds." The Pastor spoke so earnestly that his words brought the tears to his visitor's eyes. "Thank you, Father," she said, "what you say is a great encouragement to me. It is a delightful lesson that christian charity teaches us, to view the brethren of Christ in the poor, nay, Christ Him-

self ! Would that I could do far more for our Lord '

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 69 in the person of His poor, in return for all He did and suffered for my salvation. May I ask your blessing, Father?' 7

She knelt down ; then rising she took leave of the Priest. "Farewell, Father. No, I cannot let you come further than the door ; I can find my way out perfectly well. You must not come down on my account. Say an Ave for me instead ! 7 Father Montmoulin did not persist in accompanying her. As soon as she had gone he prepared to undress and lie down to rest. He felt a vague, unaccountable disquietude; an interior voice seemed continually saying : pray for her, pray for her. He thought he would put his coat on again, and go down after her, but then again he said to himself he was a little feverish, and over-tired. Still he could not go to sleep, though he said his beads as a kind of lullaby. We must now return to the sacristan, who had been waiting all the morning in the lumber-room in a state of suppressed excitement. He heard the Angelus rung, and he heard the Priest go into the church directly after. Should he make the venture now ; the old lady was probably up, and the bedroom door would be open. No, it seemed too risky, the Priest might come up -stairs at any moment. Besides, he did not know for certain where the money was concealed, he might have to search some time for it. Now when once Mass had begun, he would be safe, he could slip up then, for the old lady would probably go down to Mass, and even if the old rotten doors were locked it would not matter much, a good kick and the hinges would 70 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. give way. He waited therefore, until the Holy

Sacrifice was being offered ; but as he was in the act of issuing from his place of concealment, he peeped through a chink in the door, and who should he see but old Susan on her way to the kitchen! Now he might have two old women to deal with, and if one ran off and gave the alarm he was lost. Yet, taking off his boots, he crept up as far as the entrance of the tribune ; there he saw Mrs. Mont- moulin ; he would have to pass by her, and this he did not dare to do. "If she calls out, all in the church will hear," he said to himself, and withdrew once more to his lurking-place.

Was his project to be defeated after all ? Must he spend his life in this remote corner of Provence with nothing but the miserable pittance of a sacristan ? And he could not even do that now, for after all his boasting about the legacy he could not remain in the place. And only yesterday evening he thought he was going to live in clover, if he could but get off to America with that sum of money, the amount of which his imagination greatly overrated. The Mass was over, and Father Montmoulin had gone to his rooms. Not very long after, Loser saw Susan leave the house accompanied, by an old lady. "Now my worthy pastor is all alone," he said to himself. "Most men in my position would make short work with him. But what a coward I am getting! I consider there is nothing more after death, and I and my fellow-men are but mere animals, and yet I have not the pluck to act on my convictions, for all the arguments of modern ;'

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 71

science. When I was in the army, I shot a couple of poor devils from behind, that was little short of murder. Yet I cannot knock down this defenceless Priest, who in his way has done me a good turn sometimes." The man tried to talk himself into a bolder mood, and at last, when he had drained his brandy- flask, he resolved to go up to the kitchen and watch his opportunity. Then, just as ten o'clock struck, he heard foot-steps, and saw Mrs. Blanchard entering by the cloisters. "She has come to fetch

! ' the money " he exclaimed. ' 'It is now or never. With the eagerness of a beast of prey he snatched up the knife, and ran up the winding- stairs, reaching the corridor just as the old lady disappeared into the Priest's room. A moment later he had his ear to the key hole. "What, his Keverence is not well — all the better for me," he said to himself. "Ah, now they are coming to business" — he heard the banknotes rustle, and recognized the chink of the gold pieces. — "Only £480 after all! Still, it is worth a little trouble; the old goose wants his blessing! let her have it now is my time." Quickly stepping back into a dark corner close to the head of the stairs, he made ready to strike his victim. But Mrs. Blanchard went in the opposite direction, to the tribune, where she paused to say a prayer before the Blessed Sacrament. "So

' ' much the better, ' muttered Loser. 'It makes matters easier. Now she will go down the winding stairs to the cloisters, and I can get a blow at her securely." 72 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

Slinking along upon tip-toe, he followed the unsuspecting old lady to the tribune, which, formerly the nuns' choir, was shut off from the body of the church by a high wooden screen. Before this screen he saw her devoutly kneeling. "One might almost snatch away her basket and make off," the man reflected. " That would be no good though, for I could not get away with the booty till night, and if I let her go, there would be a hue and cry and I should be arrested. No, I must play the man, and silence her." After a few minutes Mrs. Blanchard crossed herself and rose from her knees. On reaching the winding stairs, a means of exit wherewith she was quite familiar, she laid her hand on the rope which served in lieu of a banister and began cautiously to descend the dark steps. Suddenly she stopped. "Is there any one behind me,' 7 she asked anxiously, for she had heard Loser following at her heels. "I suppose I was mistaken, I wish I had gone the other way, I feel so frightened, I do not know why. God is always present," she added aloud. A few steps more brought her to the narrow landing at the entrance of the lumber-room. Then all at once a hand clutched her throat

from behind ; at the same instant Loser thrust open the door, which stood ajar, flung his victim in and stabbed her in the side. With a stifled cry the old lady sank to the ground. Her death was almost instantaneous, but for sometime the murderer did not relax his hold and stand upright on his feet. CHAPTEE VI.

After the crime.

Now that the terrible deed was done Loser's rage subsided, and the fictitious courage imparted by his potations totally deserted him . He trembled from head to foot, and averted his face, not daring to look at the corpse which lay stretched at his feet, and which he hastily concealed by throwing the pall over it. Then he snatched up the basket and was about to fly with the price of blood when he checked himself. Whither could he fly? To be seen with it in broad daylight would be mad- ness, and everywhere in Ste. Victoire he would be recognized. He must keep out of every one's sight until nightfall, he must not leave the convent until he could do so under cover of the darkness. There was no safer hiding-place than the one he was in, but how could he stay there with the corpse? All his fine theories about not fearing the dead, not believing in the immortality of the soul or in a future life, afforded him little support at this crisis. Crouching in the farthest corner of the apartment, Loser set the basket down before him. The knife, with its crimson stain, was still in his hand. He wiped the blade on a corner of the handkerchief in which the money was wrapped, and threw it in- to the basket with a shudder. Then he unknotted the handkerchief, thinking the sight of the money would comfort him, but it did not have the effect of allaying his terror. (73) "

74 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

Involuntarily his eyes wandered again and again to the outspread pall, beneath which the outline of the lifeless body was plainly discernible. A thin stream of blood from beneath it was trickling slowly, slowly, in his direction. Why should it take that direction ? Every moment it came nearer, and every moment the man's agony of fear increased. Presently it reached a crack in the boards, a few inches from his feet, and began to drop through on to the stone vaulting of the chamber beneath. The stillness was so perfect, that he could distinctly hear each drop fall, he could count them one by one, and the sound of each one seemed to burn itself into his brain. "I wish I had not done it," he groaned. "And as for another life, it is by no means proved so certainly to be a mere superstitious belief, as in these days some are pleased to assert. I fancied I had done away with all belief in it, but I must own that in my heart of hearts I have always known it to be true. And if we are to receive the reward of our deeds— The thought of this, with the body of his unoffending victim before him, was more than the murderer could bear. He bitterly repented of his crime, through fear of punishment, and the horror and apprehension he felt nearly drove him wild. At length, as the long weary hours of that terrible day drew to an end, and twilight closed in, he resolved to unburden his conscience of its intolerable load by means of confession, and to do so at once. The sermon of the preceeding day decided him to accuse himself to Father Montmoulin him- A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 75 self. u He will not, he cannot betray me," he reflected, "he dare not do so though his own life were at stake ; he said so with his own lips, and I believe him too, he is no deceiver." It was more than twenty years since Loser had approached the Sacrament of Penance. In preparation for a good confession after so long a time, humble prayer to Almighty God is indispensable in the first place, to obtain help to make a proper examination of conscience, and to awaken true contrition, based on supernatural motives, besides a firm purpose of making reparation wherever this might be possible. Loser did not pray, nor did he attempt a retrospect of the past ; the one fatal act committed that day engrossed his mind, and in its hideous magnitude, overshadowed and obliterated from the memory every other sin. If only he could wipe off this one black deed, he thought, all else would be of little moment. Nor was there anything supernatural about his contrition ; it was fear, nothing but a frenzy of fear, that drove him to the presence of the Priest. As soon as it was dark, he acted on his resolution. Taking up his boots and the basket containing the money, he left the room, unable to resist, as he crossed the threshold, casting one more glance at the pall with its awful secret. As he did so, a flickering ray of light from the church fell upon it; Loser almost shrieked, for he fancied he saw it move. Hurriedly shutting the door behind him, he mounted the stairs with all speed ; every where out of the darkness he seemed to see the eyes of his unhappy victim gazing at him with the >

76 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. expression of terror they wore when he first attacked her. A cold sweat stood in drops upon his forehead, when at last he knocked at the Priest's door. Father Montmoulin had spent the whole afternoon in bed, as he felt far from well. Towards evening however he got up, in order to say his

Breviary. He was perhaps ill enough to be dis- pensed from the obligation, but he would not miss Yespers and Compline. He was sitting close to his reading lamp, in the act of reciting the 90th Psalm, which speaks so beautifully of confidence in God and the protection of His holy Angels in danger and distress, when a knock came at the door. • He thought it was old Susan, come to see how he was ; and without raising his eyes from the book he answered: "Come in," adding: "In a moment, Susan, I have just finished." What was his astonishment, when on closing his Breviary and looking up, he beheld Loser standing before him! He could scarcely believe his eyes, and lifted the green shade off the lamp to see the man more distinctly. "Can it be you, Loser?" he inquired, immediately adding, as he remarked the ashy paleness of the man's countenance, as he stood trembling in the circle of light thrown by the lamp, wiping the perspiration from his brow: "For Heaven's sake, what is the matter? Has any misfortune happened to you?" "Yes, Father, something has happened to me — or rather to some one else — and I have come — I want to go to confession." One can imagine the surprise of the good clergy- ' '

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 77 man on hearing this request, for he knew how long the sacristan had neglected his duties. He cast a grave, searching look at the man, who divining his thoughts answered: "I am perfectly sober, Father. I tell you something has happened — something very terrible — and I remembered your sermon yesterday, and have come to you to con-

fession. But first tell me one thing ; supposing the Confessor could or would not give the penitent absolution, would the seal of confession in this case still be binding on the Priest 1 ' "Undoubtedly," the Priest answered. "Very well, now please hear my confession." "Most willingly. — Have you prepared yourself for it T' "I have thought of nothing else the whole afternoon." "Then kneel down on this hassock. I do not feel at all well this evening, but the joy of recon- ciling to God a soul who has so long resisted grace, is the best medicine I could have. First let us implore the light of the Holy Spirit, and the help of the Mother of God, the Eefuge of Sinners." "Had you not better hear me in the bedroom?" asked Loser, glancing timidly towards the door. "I do not want to be seen, and you will not tell anyone, will you, that I have been to confession % ' "I promise you that I will not. Under certain circumstances it might even be a violation of the seal of confession were I to do so." Thereupon Father Montmoulin carrying the lamp went into the inner room, followed by the man whose strange conduct mystified him more and more, and locked the door "

78 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION".

after him. Eaising his heart to heaven, he fervently invoked the enlightenment and guidance of the Holy Spirit, for he foresaw that no easy task was before him. Putting on a stole, he motioned to the man, who stood trembling like an aspen leaf, to kneel down beside him. "Courage, my child," he said, "even if your sins be red as crimson— "Ked as crimson! who told you that?" interrupted Loser with a shudder. "They are red, red

as blood ! I must make a clean breast of it, or I shall have no rest! Yes I have shed innocent blood, and it cries to Heaven for vengeance. This very day, in this very house, I murdered Mrs. Blanchard, there she lies down in the lumber-room. Her blood lies on my soul, it burns me like fire. Now absolve me, Father, I have told you all!" It is impossible to describe the horror Father Montmoulin felt on hearing this confession, wrung from the murderer by an almost frantic terror. He waited for a moment to recover himself, before making a reply, and inwardly besought assistance from on high. Then he endeavoured to soothe the man's excitement; he said he was indeed guilty of an awful crime, but even the sin of murder could he forgiven, if it was confessed with sincere contrition of heart. The blood our Lord shed upon the cross had power to cleanse from that, and yet more heinous crimes. Did he not remember that the Ee- deemer when hanging upon the cross had pardoned one of the thieves crucified with Him, although he had been a highwayman and had probably committed murder. After thus seeking to inspire him A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 79 with confidence, he told the penitent he must now

complete his confession ; he must accuse himself of all other mortal sins whereof he had been guilty since his last valid confession, mentioning as far as he could remember, their nature and their number. Loser answered impatiently that twenty years had elapsed since he last went to confession. How could he be expected to confess all the sins of those past years? "God requires nothing that is impossible of us," the clergyman replied; "He is satisfied if we accuse ourselves of all the sins we can remember after a strict examination of conscience; besides," he added, "I will help you with questions." Loser rejoined that he had made no attempt to look into his past life, he had only thought about this crime, committed that same day, and for this he was sincerely repentant. Would the Priest tell him at once whether he would give him absolution or no ; he had not a moment to lose, he ought in fact, to be already far away by that time. To his infinite sorrow the good Priest recognized from these words that his penitent was lacking in the dispositions requisite for the valid reception of the absolution he desired. He began to exhort him, and entreat him by all he held most sacred, to think seriously of the state of his soul, and to finish the confession he had commenced. He would help him, he said, to examine his conscience and would most assuredly give him absolution, as soon as he had obtained the necessary faculties, and the penitent had confessed, not only this crime but " ' '

80 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. all other mortal sins with sincere contrition, and shown himself ready to make all the reparation which lay within his power. Loser rejoined angrily; "The day after tomorrow I must be on the other side of the water! I was a fool, to come to yon!" he cried. "And as for reparation, what reparation can be made? I cannot recall the dead to life ! ' "Unfortunately that is quite impossible," the

Priest responded. l 'But if I understood you aright, you killed poor Mrs. Blanchard in order to gain possession of the money that she had with her. As a matter of course you must return the money to the Guild, it was collected to build a hospital. And besides — "What, I am expected to give up the money? And what besides V "It is quite possible that some innocent person may be arrested and even sentenced to death for the murder. In this case, you must be prepared to deliver yourself up to justice."

' "That is quite enough, ' exclaimed Loser, springing to his feet. "I am to hand over the money, and finally give myself up to the law ! I am not the idiot you take me for. The wisest plan would be to silence your tongue forever! Who knows what subterfuges there may be in your vaunted seal of confession 1 I wish I had the courage to do it, but I have not ! ' So saying, the unhappy man rushed to the door with an oath on his lips, unlocked it, and disappeared in the deep shadows of the corridor. Enter- ing the little kitchen, where he had temporarily A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 81 concealed the basket, he struck a light. Thrusting the blood-stained handkerchief and the knife under the dresser, he stuffed the banknotes into his pocket book, filled his pockets with the gold and silver coins, and hastened away down the other staircase by which he reached the kitchen on the ground floor, and through it escaped into the garden. By a circuitous route he avoided passing through the village, and having got into the road to Marseilles, ran as fast as his feet would carry him through the darkness until day dawned. Then he crept behind some bushes to rest; and before night he found himself in Marseilles, where he arrived just in time to go on board a vessel bound for Montevideo. CHAPTER VII.

An evening at the " Golden Rose."

Mrs. Blanchard lived in the house of her brother, who was the town-clerk. She occupied a small suite of rooms in the upper story, with an orphan girl, whom she had taken out of charity, for her servant. Her brother and his family had the ground floor. The relations between the two households were not very intimate. The town- clerk did not belong to the party of the "clericals," and he looked upon his sister, who had ventured to speak to him concerning the non-performance of his duties at Easte^, as a devotee and a pietist. But the sisterly admonition she had administered did not rouse his ire as did her great liberality to the poor and sick. He considered that by her lavish almsgiving she was defrauding him and his children of the inheritance which ought to be theirs after her death, and had even gone so far as to consult the Mayor, who held the same political opinions as himself, as to whether it would be illegal to put this spendthrift, as he called her, whose weak good nature was taken advantage of shamefully by the Priests, under some sort of restraint. However, as no positive proof of her incompetency to manage her own affairs was forthcoming, the charitable old lady was left at large to go about with her basket on her arm visiting her humble clients, spending daily in the relief of their wants a sum which would seldom (82) A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 83 have been found to exceed what her brother and the worshipful the Mayor expended every evening at the "G olden Bose." On the evening of the 20th February those two village magnates were seated with a few other habitues of the tavern, like-minded with themselves, each having a bottle before him. Politics had been freely discussed and the increasing influence exercised by the Church denounced and de- plored. Le clericalisme, voila Vennemi! The power of the clergy is the most formidable antagonist we have to combat—such was the watchword of the party. "And you will see," said the Mayor, striking the table forcibly with his fist, "that these men will get their candidate through at the next election. They are sly, they are increasing in authority, they gain the working classes, the populace, to their side by an appearance of benevolence. This hospital, which they are going to build for the Sisters is a trump card in their hands, and this Eeverend Father Montmoulin is by no means as simple as one would take him to be." "The government ought to prohibit the erection of this hospital, and above all take the duty of caring for the sick and relieving the destitute out of the hands of the clergy and of the Sisters, their sworn adherents," said the town-clerk. "It will all come in good time," the Mayor replied. Everything cannot be done in a day. It would be a grave political error on our part to oppose the building of this infirmary, just as the elections are to take place." 84 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

"I wish we could get some right scandalous story against a priest into the papers," old Caril- lon suggested. "Nobody pays any heed to the old tales now," the Mayor rejoined. Besides our free- thinking journals are not read generally, and the clergy are too wary to let themselves be entrapped. Now if one could get a good, strongly-flavoured story of something that happened in a place which is known, where every one could point at the man

l and say : Just look what your Priests are ! They

! are every one as bad ' that might be some use.

But they take good care what they do now ; at any rate, they let nothing get about to their discredit." "How would it be to write a novelette for the purpose?" said the town-clerk, slowly blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. "On the principle: calumniare audacter, semper aliquid haeret; 'If you throw enough mud, some is sure to stick,' interposed the notary. The worst of it is, that if such weapons are used, the assailant usually comes off with less credit than the assailed." "That is very true," remarked the doctor, a stout, good-natured-looking gentleman, taking a pinch out of his gold snuff-box. "I for one, advocate a more honorable way of warfare than is sometimes adopted by one party. And as for the laicisation of hospitals and infirmaries, I am dead against it. When I acted as army- surgeon in Italy and again during the last war, I saw behind the scenes. Provided the secular nurses had a young, goodlooking officer to nurse, it was all very

well ', but let the smallpox or cholera break out in A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 85

the ambulance, and they soon took to flight. Now the Sisters are no more afraid of a bullet on the battlefield than of typhus in the military hospital, they are thoroughly to be relied on, and they do not want to be paid for their services, which is more by a great deal than can be said of the other nurses. Of course there are some honourable exceptions, but as a rule, let them give me a wide berth." After this long speech the doctor emptied his glass, and got up to go. But the Mayor laid his hand on his arm to detain him, saying : "Now that you have delivered yourself of your favourite opinions, you must drink another 'glass to the success of the election. Then we must have a rubber of whist before we break up. Waiter, bring the card table and cards." "Well, I do not mind," replied the doctor, "but it must be only one. It is already close upon ten o'clock, and I must look in on one of my patients tonight." The little green card table was soon placed under the lamp which hung from the ceiling, and the play began. The stout doctor had the thin, hungry-looking notary for a partner, while the town- clerk had the honour of being paired with the great man of the place. Fortune favoured the doctor, who seemed very well pleased with his hand, while on the contrary the Mayor looked very surly, and addressed a few uncomplimentary remarks to his partner in regard to his play. The doctor was just about to throw down the trump card, which he held in his hand with an air 86 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. of triumph, when the landlord, who had been looking on at the game, was called out, and came hurrying back to say that Mrs. Blanchard's maid was at the door, asking to speak to the town-clerk ; she was afraid something had happened to her mistress.

"Wait till the game is finished!" exclaimed the doctor. But the Mayor, who was glad of an excuse to avoid defeat which he saw to be certain, laid his cards down on the table, and said the town-clerk had better go at once and hear what was the matter, if misfortune of any consequence had befallen Mrs. Blanch ard. "Oh, no misfortune ever happens to the old devotee, unless she has not got a halfpenny left to squander on impostors,"' the clerk interposed in a tone of vexation, as he too threw down his cards; "Let the girl come in." "Keep your cards in your hand, the game is almost out," cried the doctor, knitting his brows; but when he saw the piteous tear-stained face of the girl, his expression changed, and laying down

' his hand, he inquired : ' Whatever is the matter,

Jenny % Has your mistress fallen down stairs and hurt herself % Do you Avant me to come f Is she alive or dead ?" "I do not know," the poor girl sobbed, a fresh stream of tears running down her cheeks. "She must have been murdered ; old Susan says so too." And she put her apron up to her eyes. "A case of homicide in my municipality 1 " said the Mayor incredulously, "what has put such an idea into your head, child ?" ' '

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 87

It was some time before Jenny could compose herself sufficiently to say that her mistress had gone in the morning to the Convent to see the priest, and nothing had been heard or seen of her since, though she was to have been home by dinner-time. "No doubt the Priest told her of some sick person, and she has gone running about after him with her alms-basket, Heaven knows where, 1 ' remarked the good lady's brother half angrily. "No, no," persisted Jenny amid her sobs; "it

was not so ; she was going to fetch a large sum of money from his Eeverence and come back with it directly. '

! ' ' 'A large sum of money ' repeated all present, opening their eyes wide in astonishment. "Yes, a whole lot of money that had been collected to build the hospital ; ever so many hundred pounds ! ' "Good Lord!" ejaculated the Mayor, starting to his feet, "why did you not come and tell me this before now % ' "Please, Sir," said the poor little maid, "I waited till dark. And then I wanted to ask mistress's sister-in-law what I was to do, but she would not hear a word I had to say, only told me she had enough of beggars. Then I was afraid to go out alone in the dark, at last I ran across to old Susan, and she told me that she saw Mrs. Blanchard go iip to the Convent at 10 o'clock precisely, but she did not see her go back. I begged Susan to go with me to Father Montmoulin, for I would not go into that house alone after dark for anything in ' ;

88 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. the world, people say there is a ghost there. But

Susan would not go ; she declared his Eeverence was ill and had given orders that he was not to be disturbed. He did not even have his supper taken up as usual.' "We must see if we can venture to disturb the good gentleman," exclaimed the Mayor, twisting up his mustache. "Come, Sirs, this singular disappearance of a lady, who apparently fetched a large sum of money from the clergyman, must be cleared up, and that without delay. You," he said turning to the town-clerk, "will, if you please, go instantly to the Priest, and ask him what has become of your sister. If you do not obtain a satisfactory answer, we must take his deposition and search the house. Mr. Notary, you will have the goodness to accompany me to the Convent we will remain outside Father Montmoulin's apartments, so as to be in readiness to proceed to business, in case our friend here is not satisfied as to his sister's whereabouts. What do you say " Doctor, will you come too ! "I do not see that I am particularly wanted," the doctor answered as he took down his overcoat. "When I have seen my patient I shall go straight home, so you will know where to find me, if my services are required. I see little probability that they will be, and I should advise you gentlemen, not to push matters too far, in view of the coming election. It will not do to make the Priest responsible for the disappearance of this old lady, if she really has disappeared." "What question is there of elections and politics "

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION . 89 when the painful task lies before us of immediately and energetically searching into what appears to

! ' be a detestable crime ' replied the Mayor with an air of offended dignity. "All in good part!' 7 said the doctor laughing, as he bowed and took leave of his friends. "For ought I care, you can take a body of police up with you, and call up the sacristan to ring the

' great bell ; that would make quite a stir. ' "That man never can be serious," observed the Mayor. "However it might be as well to take the police with us in case of necessity. And the sacristan— "The sacristan, Sir, went off to Marseilles last evening, and has not yet returned. He left the keys in my keeping," explained the host. "The policeman is here, having a glass in the bar." "Take the keys of the sacristan's rooms with you, and summon the constable. We will go up together, quite quietly." ;

CHAPTER VIII.

The Mayor arrives on the scene.

The three officials wended their way in silence to 'the ancient Convent. They were followed by the inn-keeper and the policeman, the latter carrying a lantern. As they turned out of the village street, and came in sight of the old building, they noticed that the rooms inhabited by the Priest were lighted up. "Our friend is still up, at any rate," remarked the Mayor with a sneer. ''That is very surprising, at this late hour, seeing that he did not wish to be disturbed on account of indisposition." "He is restless enough too," added the Notary. "One can see his shadow on the window as he paces up und down before the lamp." "That looks as if he was in a state of agitation or excitement. Do you think Susan may have gone to him after all, and apprised him of the old lady's disappearance!" said the Mayor. "I hardly think so. The old woman would not adventure herself in this gloomy place so late as this — it must be close upon eleven —-for any consideration,", replied the innkeeper.

1 "Well, let us go on. How are we to get in ?

Must we ring the bell f I confess I had rather have taken his Reverence by surprise," said the Mayor. "Oh, I have Loser's keys," Carillon answered and in a moment the old gate swung back on its hinges. (90) A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 91

When, without finishing his confession, Loser hurried away out of Father Montmoulin's presence, the latter could for a time scarcely control his agitation. Could it be possible that Mrs. Blanchard

was murdered ! That her body at that moment lay

in the room next the sacristy ! And the assassin making his escape with his booty, he being power-

less to prevent him ! He could not even make any use of the revelation made to him in the villain's

confession. But was it really a confession % Yes, undoubtedly so. The man had not the right dispositions, but he had the intention to confess, and had accused himself to him, as Christ's representative, of the crime he had committed. To make assurance doubly sure the Priest took Lehinkuhl's Moral Theology from his bookshelves, and read through the chapter on the seal of confession.

There was no possible doubt about it ; he had acquired the knowledge sub sigillo, and he was bound to secrecy whatever the consequences might be. "My God!" he said to himself, "they may eveu take me for the murderer! But no, Thou wouldst not lay upon me so terrible a trial. There is nobody who would believe me capable of such a deed. And yet, even if suspicion rested upon me, I dare not open my lips in self-defence, I must sacrifice my reputation, my life, rather than utter a word, as I declared only yesterday from the pulpit! O my God, let this chalice pass from me! I do not ask this for my own sake alone, although I cannot deny that personally I should feel such a trial most acutely; I ask it for my poor mother's sake, for such a blow would be her 92 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

death ; I ask it too for the sake of my flock, for the sake of the Catholic Church, the disgrace that would be brought ou it, the terrible scandal that would be given through me to many weak souls, if they saw a Priest accused of murder ! No, it is

impossible ; such a thing could not be ; my excited imagination conjures up these horrible contingen- cies. The holy Mother of God will take me under her protection!" Father Montmoulin, whilst uttering these words, had cast himself on his knees upon the prie-dieu, and raised his hands in supplication to his crucified Eedeemer and the Mother of Dolours. After that he took his rosary, and walked up and down the room for some time, saying it. Feeling more composed, he was deliberating whether he should retire to rest, although sleep was out of question, when steps were heard in the corridor, and there was a loud knock at his door.

7 On his answering "Come in, ' the town-clerk, with the mayor and the notary at his heels, entered the apartment. They had altered their first plan, and decided to present themselves all together, to observe the effect produced upon the clergyman, whom they hated for the sake of his office, by this unexpected visit. Although they did not attach the slightest suspicion to him, yet they thought, if a crime had been committed, he might be in some way mixed up in it, and they were determined to make matters as unpleasant for him as possible. u Whether he shows signs of alarm or no," said the Mayor, "it will in any case give us a pretext for instituting a judicial inquiry and searching the house." ' :

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 93

Father Montmoulin was not alarmed, at any rate he showed no outward sign of trepidation, when the three officials entered his room at so late an hour. In fact he seemed quite prepared for their coming; the involuntary twitching of his mouth betokened grief rather than astonishment, and he cast a quick glance at the crucifix, as if to implore assistance and support in this crucial hour. He was in fact, so poor an adept at dissimulation, that had he feigned surprise it would have been of little use. The expression of pathetic resignation upon his countenance could not fail to strike the authorities on their entrance. "This late visit on our part does not appear to

7 be wholly unexpected by you, ' the Mayor began. "You are perhaps cognisant of the unpleasant duty which compels us to intrude upon you at this unusual hour?" The good clergyman felt extremely embarrassed. He must not disclose his knowledge of the crime, and his manner betrayed that he had something to conceal. He changed colour, and stammered out "I really am not aware—I cannot tell what brings you here at this hour, gentlemen. What is there that I can do for you 1 ' The town-clerk was going to ask him whether he knew what had become of his sister, when the Mayor stopped him. "One moment," he said. Then addressing Father Montmoulin, he continued: "So you really cannot guess the object of our coming, the question we have come to ask ? Yet you did not appear in the least surprised to see us at this unaccustomed hour. At any rate that was 94 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. the impression made on me — and on you too % ' ? he added looking from one to the other of his companions. They both notified their assent ; and the speaker proceeded : "One thing more, if you please; we were told that you were unwell, that you had dismissed your servant, saying you wanted rest, and did not wish to be disturbed this evening, and yet we find you at eleven o'clock up and dressed. How do you explain this V "I was lying down all the afternoon, so I do not feel sleepy now," replied the Priest, who by this time had pulled himself together. "I ought rather to ask the object of these questions'? It seems I am to undergo an examination." The three ofiicials exchanged glances. Then the Mayor said to the town-clerk: "Since this gentleman cannot—or will not—divine our errand, perhaps you will have the goodness to inform him of it, since the matter concerns you most closely." The town-clerk, thus invited, explained, in no very gentle voice, that his sister had not come home all day long. He was informed that she had been to fetch a large sum of money from the priest, and he feared something l^ad happened to her. It was his duty to make inquiries about her, and he had come to him in the first place, as apparently he was the last person who had seen the- missing individual. Again Father Montmoulin cast an agonized glance at the crucifix. This action was not lost on his interlocutors. He then answered: "Mrs. Blanchard certainly was here this morning, between ten or eleven. If any misfortune ha3 befallen ' '

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 95 her, I have additional grounds for deploring it, as I gave her all the money that had been collected by St. Joseph's guild to take away with her." "I cannot help remarking upon the extraordinary composure with which you receive the tidings of Mrs. Blanchard's disappearance. It would be quite inexplicable but for the supposition that you had already heard it from another quarter, though you denied having done so just now. Who was your informant % " demanded the Mayor. "No one. I know nothing at all about it," was the answer. "It is very difficult to believe that. You acknowledge that Mrs. Blanchard was with you this morning between ten and eleven. Where did she go afterwards % ' "She said that she was going home." "Then she never reached home. Nor has she since been seen anywhere or by anyone — a most extraordinary thing! It is very unlikely that she would go in any other direction with all that money about her. Something must have happened to her, in this Convent." "I really can throw no light on her disappearance. I counted out £480 to her in this very room. ' "Four hundred and eighty pounds!" all the three men exclaimed in one breath. "The idea of confiding such a sum as that to the charge of a feeble old woman! You must be held responsible, Eeverend Sir, for the possible loss of that sum. You actually let her put all that money in her pocket?" inquired the Mayor. "She put it into the basket she carried on her '

96 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. arm, £320 in notes, the rest part in gold, part in silver," Father Montmoulin replied. "I never dreamt of any danger for her in broad daylight, such a short distance as it is from here to her house." „. "Surely you accompanied the old lady to the gate, so that you are in a position to swear that she left the Convent in safety with the money ! 1 asked the Mayor. Father Montmoulin shrugged his shoulders. "I can only swear that the good lady left this room in perfect health with the money in her basket. I much regret now, that I did not go down to the gate with her; I wanted to, but she would not allow me to accompany her, because I had a cold upon me."

"I repeat, that if this sum of money is really lost, you will be held answerable for it on account of your culpable negligence. This is a fresh, and a striking instance of how utterly careless the clergy are in regard to monies collected for the poor, the disposing of which ought to be in the hands of the municipal authorities. The money belonged to the poor, although it consisted of vol- untary donations, and you, Sir, will have to answer for it." Well pleased with himself for having given this turn to the matter in question, the Mayor continued : "Then you have not the least suspicion as to what may have befallen Mrs. Blanchard?" The Priest, having only heard in the confessional of the tragic fate of the unhappy lady, shook his head, and answered : "I did not see her again from the time she left this room." A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 97

"Well, gentlemen," resumed the Mayor, addressing his companions, "since his Eeverence either cannot or will not give us any information as to the whereabouts of the missing lady, although she seems to have disappeared under this very roof, we must proceed to search the house. Do you not agree with me!" "Decidedly," said the one. "Unhesitatingly," said the other. "Will you accompany us through the house, Sir?" the Mayor said to Father Montmoulin. "I beg you will excuse me. I am feeling very unwell," he replied not a little embarrassed and disconcerted by the Mayor's peremptory manner. "It strikes me as a very strange thing," replied that official, "that you will not join us in our endeavor to clear up the mystery as speedily as possible. However that need not hinder us in the discharge of our duty. Take the lamp," he said to the town-clerk, "and perhaps this reverend gentleman will be so obliging as to hold a candle for us, even if he declines accompanying us on our tour of investigation in the house he occupies." Father Montmoulin saw too late that he had made a fatal mistake. Undoubtedly, had he been ignorant of the fate of his friend, he would have been the foremost, to search everywhere for her, lamp in hand. The unconquerable dread that seized upon him at the idea of seeing the corpse which he knew to be lying in the second sacristy, had prompted his refusal to comply with the Mayor's invitation. He tried now to make good his error, by saying, as he took up the lamp: "I 98 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

will go with you. Far be it from me to put any obstacle in the way of your research. I beg pardon if I showed a little irritation at your somewhat brusque mode of proceeding, which the excitement of the moment rendered excusable. Will you commence with my bedchamber?" "I see no occasion for that at present," replied the Mayor, partly propitiated by Father Montmou- lin's last speech. "We will first of all look through the passages and staircases which lead from the door of your room to the gate of the Con- vent, and through which the missing lady must have passed on the way back to her home." '

CHAPTEE IX.

The domiciliary visit.

Father Montinoulin accordingly, lamp in hand, preceded the little party of searchers along the corridor to the principal staircase, lighting up every corner. Not the slightest trace of any dark deed could be fonnd, all was just as usual. They descended the stairs, carefully examining each

step ; they held the light to the stone gutters of the cloisters, they searched every angle, they looked behind every post and pillar, but nothing extraordinary was discernible. At length they reached the vaulted porch before the gates of the Convent. There stood the policeman, and the innkeeper with his lantern. At the sight of the former the Priest turned pale, and the man noticed that he did so, though he made no remark at the time.

"This is where the sacristan lives, is it not!" inquired the Mayor. On being answered in the affirmative he tried to open the door, but found it locked. "Here is the key," said the innkeeper, stepping forward officiously. "I think I have already informed your Worship that Loser went off to Mar- seilles yesterday evening, and left his keys in my charge ' "True. Were you aware of the sacristan's

? ' departure ' the Mayor asked, addressing Father Montrnoulin. (99) '

•

100 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

"Certainly. He requested me to give him leave of absence for a week." "And lie has not been here since?" Father Montmoulin hesitated a moment before replying. He had seen Loser come into his room, and that certainly he was not bound to conceal; but the reason for which he came was only to go to confession, and were he to mention the fact, it might under the circumstances, touch upon the seal of confession. On the other hand he could not but perceive what a weapon against himself he was putting into the magistrate's hand, by concealing Loser's return. However he judged it best to do so, lest otherwise any danger should arise of betraying the reason which led the murderer to his room. So he answered : "Not to my knowledge." "How very strange your behaviour is, Sir! Surely it was not necessary to bethink yourself so long before giving such a very simple answer ! ' Father Montmoulin tried to excuse himself on

the plea of indisposition ; his head ached, he said, and he was afraid of the draught under the open archway. The Mayor said it was useless to linger down there any longer, since the sacristan had gone away,. and v according to the Priest's testimony, was still absent. It was very cold and draughty there. He then inquired whether there was no other way out of the Convent than by that gate ? There was another door at the back of the cloisters, the policeman replied, but that was locked, he had already been to see. "Very good," said the Mayor. "But is there no other staircase leading from your rooms to the ground floor?" he asked Father Montmoulin. A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 101

"There is a back staircase at the far end of the other wing, which takes down into what used to be the kitchen, but now contains an oil-press. But as that way is generally locked, it is most improbable

that Mrs. Blanchard made use of it. She is much more likely to have gone through the tribune, to pay a visit to the Blessed Sacrament, and then descended by the sacristy stairs out into the cloisters." It was with the greatest difficulty that

Father Montmoulin uttered the last sentence ; for he knew full well, that it was there that the murdered lady would be found. The Mayor desired him to show them the way immediately. He accordingly proceeded along the cloisters in the direction of the church, the three gentlemen following him in silence. He meanwhile repeated the De Profundis to himself, trying to brace himself for the terrible sight which he knew ere long must meet his eyes. As they went along, they held the light to every corner, looked behind every column in the cloisters, but without discerning anything. From the old masonry fanciful heads of animals and grinniDg demons looked down upon them, and the three visitors could not resist the weird influences of the dark, silent, stone-flagged passages, in which no sound was heard but the echo of their own footsteps. Each one felt he would not like to find himself alone, at that time of night in those desolate cloisters, but neither of them spoke his thought aloud. "Is not that someone walking overhead?" inquired the Mayor. "It is only the echo of our footsteps that you hear," the clergyman replied. :

102 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

The oppressive silence was next broken by the town-clerk, who asked what the time was? "It must be just midnight, you will hear it strike directly," said the notary, adding byway of a jest, "you surely are not afraid of ghosts?" "As though any man of education was afraid of ghosts!" retorted the town-clerk scornfully. The Mayor then asked what use was formerly made of the space enclosed by the cloisters. The Priest replied that it was in other days the nun's burying-ground. "Along this way through which we are now walking, the bodies used to be brought out of the church, and this gateway, to which we are now coming, was called the gate of death. Look at the carving over the portal." He held the lamp aloft so that a death's head sculp- tured in stone might be seen, with the inscription

Hodie mihi, eras tibi, translating the words as he did so : Thy turn to-day, mine to-morrow! "We know enough latin at least to understand

' that, ' said the Mayor testily, for he was not very fond of hearing death talked about. Father Mont- moulin opened the door, and they found themselves in the belfry. "Is that door always unlocked?" inquired the Mayor.

1 'All the doors in the interior of the Convent are left unlocked. This is where the Angelus is rung three times a day," the pastor answered. " "Who rings it when the sacristan is away? "I rang it myself in the early morning to-day," replied the Priest; "the other two times it was rung by a neighbor, who generally acts for the sacristan when he is absent." A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 103

"Then at midday all must have been as usual

7 here, or he would have remarked it, ' continued the Mayor, looking about him suspiciously. He then crossed over to the door of the sacristy, opposite to the one by which they had entered, and endeavoured to open it. "That door is only open during the times of service. I closed it myself after Mass this morning, and took the key with me up to my room," the clergyman explained.

' 'It is useless to look for our missing friend in there, then," said the Mayor, turning towards the winding stairs, which were so narrow that they did not admit of two persons going up abreast. Father Montmoulin went up first, holding the lamp aloft,

in order that the others might see their way ; the Mayor came next, the two others brought up the rear. And now the landing on the stairs was reached where the door of the sacristy-room was situated. Involuntarily the Priest paused and cast a glance at the door, while an almost imperceptible shudder ran over him. The Mayor intercepted his glance, and immediately asked where that led to. "It is the door of a room where the sexton keeps his implements, and all sorts of lumber is put out of the way," Father Montmoulin answered. He was about to ascend the rest of the stairs, but the Mayor, seizing the handle of the door, threw it open. For one moment the light fell upon the body that lay there covered with the pall; the next instant all was darkness, for the lamp was extinguished by a gust of wind which came through an open window within, on the door being sudden- '

104 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

ly opened. A cry of horror escaped the lips of the men. The Mayor was the first to recover his self-possession. "What was that lying upon the ground ?" he demanded. "There was a pall, and something under it," exclaimed the notary.

"I believe this infernal old Convent is haunted," ejaculated the town-clerk, no longer concealing the terror he felt. "We had better postpone our

search until some more suitable time ; I think I heard midnight strike just as we began to ascend these stairs."

"What have you to say, Eeverend Sir % Did

' you see nothing % ' said the Mayor, addressing Father Montmoulin. "I did indeed," was the comparatively calm reply. "And I greatly fear that what I saw was the object of our search." "Merciful Heavens! And here are we standing in pitch darkness close to the lifeless remains of my poor sister ! } cried the town-clerk in piteous tones. "We must go back, and fetch the police- constable and the lantern. For goodness sake, come with me," he said to the notary, "I am half dead with fright, and I could not for anything in the world venture alone in those dark cloisters." "Yes, go and fetch the lantern, " said the Mayor. "If you call out from the door to the cloisters the man will hear you." Daring this time Father Montmoulin had entered the chamber of death, into which a faint ray of light fell from the lamp in the sanctuary. He knelt A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 105

down, and prayed silently beside the pall, the outline of which he could perceive, as his eyes became accustomed to the darkness. He prayed for the soul of the woman who had been so cruelly murdered, as he had done already, and he felt himself thereby recovering to some extent calmness and fortitude, though every moment made it plainer to him that a terrible trial had overtaken him. The Mayor remained standing on the stairs, turning over the events of the night in his mind. He was now convinced that it was no fatality, as he had till then imagined, but a serious crime with which he had to deal. If, as the Priest suggested, that pall actually covered Mrs. Blanchard's body, whose hand had spread it over the corpse ? And how was it that he seemed to know by intuition, that she lay beneath it % Why had he looked with such a peculiar expression at the door of that out-of-the-way room ? His whole demeanour had been very odd when the Mayor and his colleagues found him in his room, and when they proposed to search the house. Again how strange his manner was when he was questioned about the return of the sacristan. Every thing seemed to indicate that he was privy to the crime. Was it possible that he himself ? — No, no, the Mayor could not entertain such a thought; that young priest, of hitherto stainless reputation, guilty of murder ! — Yet after all, it might be so. Father Montmoulin was known to be poor, and his relatives were poor also, might not the sum of money, which doubtless appeared large to him, have been a temptation ? Besides on whom could suspicion fall but on him, ' '

106 a victim: to the seal of confession. since it appeared that 110 one but he was in the Convent when the unfortunate lady went there. Such were the thoughts that passed through the mind of the Mayor whilst he awaited the return of his comrades, and he came to the conclusion that the Priest lay under grave suspicion, at any rate, and that he must certainly be examined before the magistrate. He was almost glad to think of this being the case ; here was the scandal that they had been talking about a few hours ago over their wine, and it would furnish them with a formidable weapon against the hated clericals. "Good use shall be made of this," he said to himself. Voices were now heard in the cloisters, and almost immediately the glimmer of the lantern was discernible. A moment later, and the police-constable stood on the landing, lighting up the room as far as possible. The pall was now clearly visible, and from it, towards the door, the feet of a woman protruded. Father Montmoulin was kneeling immovable by the side. All the others broke out into cries of dismay and horror. There was no longer any room for doubt ; Mrs. Blanchard had been cruelly assassinated. It might have been imagination before when in the flickering light of the expiring lamp they fancied they saw a human form under the pall, but there was no possibility of illusion now. "Give me the lantern, 7 said the Mayor, when the necessary silence was obtained. "Now lift up the cloth carefully, so as not to disarrange anything. ' The man raised the pall so far as to allow the face and shoulders of the corpse to be seen. The "

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 107 spectators shuddered at the sight of the ashy countenance and glazed eyes. "She has been strangled," said the Mayor. "She has been stabbed," said the policeman, pointing to the blood on her dress, and the pool of blood on the floor in which the corpse lay. "I suppose there can be no doubt that she is really dead V inquired the notary. "Cold and stark," replied the policeman.

1 i ' You can identify this as your sister % ' said the Mayor, addressing the town-clerk.

"Only too surely ! But pray cover up the body again. I cannot bear the sight of it." "Yes cover it up," urged the innkeeper, averting his countenance. "This will haunt me in my dreams. If I had anticipated the horrible sight that awaited us here, I certainly would not have been one of the party." "Wait a moment," said the Mayor, as the policeman was about to replace the pall; then turning to Father Montmoulin who was still upon his knees beside the corpse, and fixing his eyes on him, he said sharply : "And what have you got to say about this terrible occurrence, Sir!" "I can only pray for the victim and her murderer." "That is all very well, but who is her murderer? " "I cannot tell. You surely would not deem me capable— "I have expressed no opinion. But the suspicion which forces itself upon all our minds is that you must be in some way an accomplice in this 108 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

murder, as your own words prove. At any rate you will have to be examined before the magistrate. It is my duty to report the matter to the police authorities at Aix without delay. You will, if you please, accompany us to your room, Eeverend Sir. Cover the body over carefully, as that all should be left just as it was. You bear me witness,

gentlemen, that nothing has been disturbed 1 Very good. Grisable, you can remain here and keep watch by the corpse. Carillon, will you have the goodness to take an official telegram, which I will give you directly, down to the post. It must be sent off tonight." The police-constable observed that the door of the chamber might be locked, so as to leave him

free if he was wanted for any service, and the Mayor assented to the proposal. The door was accordingly locked, the Mayor putting the key into his pocket, and all the party ascended the winding stairs in silence, passing through the tribune and along the corridor to the Priest's apartments. As Father Montmoulin crossed the tribune, he cast a sad, wistful look at the choir of the church. He felt a sorrowful foreboding that he shouldvhave to leave that spot, perhaps never to return ; but the remembrance of our Lord' s presence in the tabernacle afforded him support and solace in his affliction. a He knows my innocence. He will intercede for me. He will stand by me, and not allow me to violate the sacred obligations of my calling. Whatever happens, I am in God's hands.' 7 Such were the good Priest's thoughts as, feeling himself /

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 109 already a prisoner, he repaired to his rooms, accompanied by the other men, of whose hostile dispositions towards him he was only too painful- ly aware. CHAPTEE X.

The Judicial report.

As soon as the sitting-room was reached, the Mayor, asking for a sheet of paper, wrote a telegram to the police authorities in Aix, reporting the discovery of a murder with robbery in Ste. Victoire, and asking that a magistrate and xmliee-inspector would come without delay. Carillon the innkeeper was willing to go and despatch the telegram, but not unless he was accompanied by the police-constable with the lantern. They were obliged to let him have his way, for he declared nothing on earth would induce him to adventure himself alone in the dark passages of that uncanny house. As soon as the two men had gone, the Mayor took up the receipt which lay on the desk where

Mrs. Blanchard had left it, and inquired what it was. "That is the receipt Mrs. Blanchard gave me," Father Montmoulin replied. "Very prudent on your part, to get the unfortunate lady to attach her signature to this form — evidently prepared beforehand—only a few minutes before her death. And you have not any idea what has become of the money ?" the Mayor observed. "None at all. I know nothing about it." "Indeed, indeed. Well, it will be the business of the examining magistrate from Aix, who will be here by daybreak, to look into that. I do not (110) A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. Ill

think he will have to search very far. In the interim, it will be as well, gentlemen, to draw up a brief report of our preliminary investigation. It will be useful to lay before the Court. Perhaps your Eeverence may like to rest a little, meanwhile % — Stop — there is no other way out of the

? ' bedroom ' And the Mayor took up the lamp and glanced round the narrow chamber. ''You surely do not imagine that I should make an attempt to escape," the clergyman said sadly. "Of course I cannot help seeing that you all regard me with suspicion. I can only assert my innocence, which I hope the judicial inquiry will make evident. An attempt at flight would justify the worst suspicion." This the Mayor acknowledged, and perceiving moreover that the only window was at a considerable height above the stone-paved courtyard, he allowed the pastor to retire to his bed-room, whilst he, seating himself with his colleagues at the table, began to prepare the minutes, which the notary committed to paper. Without wishing to show a decided bias, he nevertheless placed the behaviour and sayings of the priest in an invidious light, so that they could not fail to arouse suspicion. Father Montmoulin, on his part, after a brief prayer for help and guidance, laid down upon his bed without undressing. He then perceived to his horror, that his cassock from the knees down- wards was covered with spots of something wet.

What could it be % He lit a candle and looked at

his fingers ; they were bedaubed with red sticky matter. It was blood, unmistakably, congealed 112 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

blood, he told himself. And now the horrible truth dawned on him, that in the darkness, he had been kneeling unawares in the blood that had flowed from the wound, that trickling towards him in a scarlet thread, had inspired Loser with such terror. Without a moment's reflection, he filled the basin with water, and began, not without an involuntary shiver of disgust, to wash the hideous marks from his cassock. The water was soon

quite red ; he was going to throw it out of the window, and refill the basin from the jug, for his task was not half done, several large spots still remaining on the front of the cassock, but the noise made by the opening of the window was heard in the adjoining room, and the Mayor burst in, fearing lest, after all, the priest should be escaping.

i 'Whatever are you doing ! Whatever have you got there," exclaimed the intruder, snatching the

basin from the clergyman's hands. "That is blood!" he added in astonishment. "Look, gentlemen what we have here! " "A basin full of blood," cried the notary, pale with horror. "Yes, it is blood," replied Father Montmoulin, composedly. "I must have been kneeling in it there, down by poor Mrs. Blanchard's body; just look at my cassock. I have been trying to wash the stains out." Simple and reasonable as this explanation was, it by no means contented the Mayor, now that his suspicions were thoroughly aroused. "Who knows when and how those spots came there?" he exclaimed. A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 113

"At all events that basin with its contents will be left standing, if you please, and I will trouble you to put on another cassock. If I am not mistaken, the analysists have a means of ascertaining, from the character of the spots, how long it was since the blood was shed. "I have only one other cassock, and that got covered with mud last night when I had to answer a sick call. It was hung up in the kitchen to dry," Father Montmoulin replied. "Then we will fetch it," the Mayor rejoined. "I insist on your taking off this garment, in order that these very suspicious spots may undergo scientific analysis.' 7 The Priest shrugged his shoulders, and taking the light, went across the corridor into the little kitchen, with the officials at his heels. The cassock in question was hanging in a dark corner by the stove, it was perfectly dry, but muddy beyond description. Old Susan had not had time to brush it before leaving the day before. Just as Father Montmoulin was taking it down from the hook, a cry burst from the town-clerk' s lips, and he was seen to point to a basket which was standing in an angle by the stove. "My poor sister's basket!" he exclaimed.

The Mayor took up the basket and opened it. There was no doubt as to the owner, for one of Mrs. Blanchard's cards was fastened on the inside of the lid. The basket was empty. "Do you recognize this basket?" he asked Father Montmoulin. The Priest looked aghast. "To be sure I do," 114 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

he answered. i 'It is the basket that Mrs. Blanchard was accustomed to carry. I myself put all the money into it tied up in a handkerchief." " "Can you tell how it got there 1 "That is the very thing that bewilders me. I have no explanation to offer." As Father Mont- moulin uttered these words, the thought flashed into his mind that the murderer very probably had set the basket down there with the purpose of

incriminating him ; that it might even be that he had only gone to him to confession, for the sake of closing his lips as to the perpetrator of the crime by the seal of confession. If that were really the case, the confession was only a simulated one, no

true confession ; it was a mere mockery and as such certainly did not bind the Priest to secrecy. For a few moments it seemed to the good pastor that a way of escape had been made for him out of his painful position. He need only tell how Loser had come to him under the pretext of making a

confession and had acknowledged his guilt ; he had at first held this confession to be valid, and accordingly it had been impossible for him to mention the fact that the man had been there, or point him out as the murderer. But now he saw through the diabolical design of the assassin and no longer felt bound to silence. He would speak, and thus all would be explained and the suspicion removed from the shoulders of the innocent to those of the guilty. The reader will not need to be told how earnestly Father Montmoulin desired to give this

all-important explanation ; but he was restrained from doing so by the doubt whether it was quite A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 115 certain that Loser's penitence was feigned. Only if lie could feel fully convinced, if there was no room for doubt that the man's confession was no real confession, did the seal of secrecy bind him no longer; a mere probability, however strong, was not sufficient to release him from his sacred obligation. And Father Montmoulin could not conceal from himself that Loser, although he was only driven by abject fear to acknowledge his deed, yet did so with the object of obtaining absolution.

And even if the murderer really did place the basket on the spot where it was found with the intention of causing suspicion to fall on him, that afforded no valid proof that his penitence was dissembled and his confession a mere mockery. Thus Father Montmoulin arrived at the conviction that the argument which appeared to open an outlet to him was inadmissable ; that he was bound to keep the seal of confession in all its integrity, in spite of the consequences, which loomed before his eyes with an aspect more and more menacing. Whilst these conflicting thoughts succeeded one another with lightning speed in the mind of the Priest, forcing upon him the conviction of which we have just spoken, the Mayor was hunting

about in the kitchen to see if he could discover any further traces of the crime. Before long, he spied out a corner of the handkerchief, which Loser had thrust under the dresser on making his hasty flight. He drew it out, and with it came the carving-knife. Again an exclamation of horror escaped the lips of all present, as the blood-stained handkerchief was spread out on the table, and the 116 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

knife, on whose handle and blade some marks of blood were plainly visible, was laid by its side. "No doubt at all about this!" cried the Mayor,

shuddering as he spoke. ' 'Here we have the instrument wherewith the bloody deed was perpetrated" "My poor sister! And it appears only too evident that this fellow, who calls himself a priest, to whom you gave all your money, has murdered you out of gratitude!" said the town-clerk, with a look of rage at the Priest. "The knife at any rate belongs to him," the notary observed. "There are the initials F. M. engraved on the little silver plate on the handle. And the handkerchief top is marked with the same letters!"

1 "What can you say to this ? How do you ex-

plain it 1 " said the Mayor in the greatest excitement," grasping the Priest roughly by the arm. At the sight of this new piece of evidence, which seemed almost to establish his guilt, Father Montmoulin turned as white as a sheet. All seemed to corroborate his idea that Loser had left all those things in the kitchen with the object of making the Priest appear guilty of bloodshed; even the use of his knife as the instrument of murder seemed a part of this infernal plan. Certainly such a wretch as this man could claim ho consideration at his hands. But again he repeated to himself: "All this is no reliable proof that Loser had not the intention to confess; consequently I must keep silence." "This knife," Father Montmoulin answered at length, after visibly struggling for self-command, A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 117

"undoubtedly is my property, so is the handkerchief. It is the one in which I wrapped up the money that I gave to Mrs. Blanch ard. How the knife and the handkerchief got into this state, or who hid them under the dresser, I am quite unable to say. I only know that old Susan complained at breakfast- time that the knife was missing." " Probably the murderer took it away beforehand, and laid it somewhere in readiness for the deed he meditated. I must say he seems to have laid his plans remarkably well. Only he reckoned, methinks, upon one thing somewhat too surely, that certain circumstances, let us say the sacredness of his office, would avert all suspicion from him." "Sir, you have repeatedly made use of expres- sions which showed tbat you regarded me with suspicion, and now you actually assert that you consider me to be in all probability the guilty party! I really must beg to protest very decidedly against

! these accusations ' the Priest answered with dignity.

"Oh of course, this indignation is quite the right thing, only unfortunately it comes a little too late, in the face of all this overwhelming evidence," retorted the Mayor contemptuously. Then changing his tone, he added : "You would do better if you made a clean breast of it. At any rate it might be the means of procuring a milder sentence." "However strong the circumstantial evidence is against me, I cannot do otherwise than repeat that I am perfectly innocent," Father Montmoulin replied. ' "

118 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

"If so, then explain the facts before us! Loser, who certainly would have come under a measure of suspicion, was away at the time, as you yourself acknowledge. Who came into this kitchen and took away the knife ? Who should know that Mrs. Blanchard was coming at a fixed time to fetch that sum of money from your house? Who was acquainted with her habit of going through the tribune and down the dark winding-stairs, so as to lay in wait for her and murder her at the most suitable spot? Who, I ask, knew and did all that? You will surely not suggest that old Susan was the perpetrator of the crime ? ' "I can only say, as I said before, that I am innocent, and God is witness of the truth of my words! "For goodness' sake do not call God to witness, and turn up your eyes in that manner, hypo-

! ' crite that you are ' cried the Mayor in a voice of

thunder. ; "Do not think to throw dust in our eyes with your pious pretences," the notary interposed. "My poor sister's blood cries for vengeance!" exclaimed the town-clerk. "I shall not rest, until I see you on the scaffold, in the hands of the hangman." Father Montmoulin had a presentiment that he would be condemned in the Court, and his asser- tions of innocence would be branded as hypocrisy. He felt the injustice done him acutely, and tasted beforehand something of the bitterness of the chalice that he would have to drink. However he could do nothing to avert this trial, except by prayer. So under his breath he murmured the " !

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 119

words of our Lord in the Garden of Olives : My

God, if it be possible, let this chalice pass from me. Nevertheless not as I will, but as Thou wilt "Then you persist in your refusal to confess your guilt?" the Mayor once more inquired. "I have nothing to confess," the Priest replied quietly. "You may call me a hypocrite if you choose; I am innocent, and I trust in God, that He will make my innocence clear as the day." "We shall see what the jury will think about your innocence, when all these facts are laid before them in Court! But now come with us to your rooms, and have the goodness to change the blood- stained cassock for this one, which in truth is not over clean. Then we will arrange side by side all the proofs of your innocence; cassock, basket, handkerchief and knife. There yet remains for us to find the £480 in your possession, and I do not despair of doing that. Meanwhile we have every reason to be satisfied with the result of our preliminary research. —Who is there? Carillon and the police- constable, to be sure. Is the telegram despatched? Very good. We have not been idle during your absence, Mr. Carillon. The basket belonging to the murdered lady, the blood-stained knife with which the deed was done, besides the handkerchief on which the assassin wiped it, have all been found ; and both knife and handkerchief bear the initials of our revered pastor!" "Impossible!" exclaimed the innkeeper, with a sidelong glance of no great friendliness at the clergyman. "What an edifying story that will be! Murder, murder with robbery— 120 A YICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

"And hypocrisy too and many other things hidden under the cassock yes, this affair will ; be much talked of in the country round, " said the Mayor, finishing the sentence, and at the same time resolving to make the most of this trump card at the approaching elections. * 'Now let us go back into the sitting-room, and finish our preliminary report ready for the arrival of the magistrate. Turning to the police-constable, "Grisable," he said, "do you take charge of this reverend gentleman, and do not let him out of your sight, not even under the pretext of changing his things. Who knows but he might put the climax to his exploits by a death like that of Judas, and I consider that by his appearance in the dock, and perhaps on the scaffold, he would expiate them in a far more becoming manner." What with physical indisposition and mental distress, Father Montmoulin felt he could bear no more. He gladly followed the constable into his bedroom, and after he had donned the muddy cassock in accordance with the Mayor's orders he threw himself upon his bed, and after a short time fell, from sheer exhaustion, into a refreshing sleep. In the adjoining apartment the notary occupied himself with drawing up a long and elaborate report of the proceedings, which amounted to a formal accusation of the unfortunate Priest. At length the document was completed ; it was read aloud, a few additions made in the margin, and then signed by the three village authorities. The innkeeper was also allowed to subjoin his signature to the paragraph regarding the discovery of the A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 121

body. This he considered no slight honour, as he acknowledged to the Mayor with a deep obeisance. He then fetched a basket which he had brought from his house on his way back from the telegraph office, and placed upon the table plates and glasses, sausages and cheese, two or three bottles of wine and whatever else appertained to a light supper. "You will find this a choice Chateau- Margaux, gentlemen," he said, "an old pure wine. The best medicine possible after all the agitation and horrors of this night. I beg you will accept this little

offering out of my cellar ; accept it as a proof of the profound esteem and respect I always entertain for those in authority, first and foremost our excellent Mayor. I pray you Sirs, to drink his health with me. The energy, the caution, the consummate prudence with which he has approached the sinister crimes of clericalism, and as good as torn off the mask of hypocrisy that has served too long to conceal its real character, entitles him to a prominent place in our district, our department, our country. The wine with which I am filling your glasses, gentlemen, is a generous liquor, deserving of the praise of our highest poets. It is worthy of the work in which we, as ministers of justice, have been engaged this night." The Mayor and his subordinates may or may not have applauded the oration of the innkeeper, who in his youth had been attached to a troop of pro- vincial actors, but at any rate his invitation to take a glass or two of good wine, with refreshments of a more substantial nature, was not a little welcome. The flowers of rhetoric with which Mr. 122 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

Carillon indulged, as was his wont, were therefore listened to graciously, and during the few remaining hours of night the bottle circulated freely among the little party. The recent discoveries were duly discussed, each and all making more and more sure that the hand that murdered Mrs. Blanchard was no other than that of Father Montmoulin. CHAPTEE XI.

The Examining Magistrate.

Day broke at length. The first rays of the sun, rising in all its rosy splendour behind the heights of Brignolles, lit up a Spring landscape of rare loveliness. All the numerous villages and homesteads lying in the valleys between the hills, were encircled with plum and peach trees in full bloom, like a bridal wreath. Amongst the delicately-tinted blossoms the bees were already busily at work, while thrush and blackbird filled the air with their song. Here and there a churchbell announced to the villagers the hour of Mass, and a few aged parishioners and groups of school children might be seen wending their way towards the church; the labouring population went in companies to their accustomed work in the gardens or vineyards. In Ste. Yictoire however, the wheel of daily life stood still. Scarcely had the housedoors been opened at dawn of day, before the tidings of the murder spread throughout the village like wildfire. "Have you heard the news, neighbour? Poor Mrs. Blanchard has been murdered, the dear old lady ! " an aged crone called across the street. "You don't say so! It cannot be true!"

• "It is true though, and the worst of the story is, they say Father Montmoulin stabbed her with his bread knife," said a voice from another window.

(123) —"

124 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

"My God, how can you say such a horrible thing! Do you not know that you are committing a mortal sin?" "Why should it not be true? The clergy are not a bit better than anybody else. Was not a Priest guillotined some years ago for stabbing the

Archbishop of Paris in a church 1 Besides I heard it from the maid at the Golden Rose; she had to take up breakfast to the convent in a hurry for the Mayor and the lawyers. The Mayor and the notary and the town-clerk—she was his sister you know spent the night up there and found out everything." "Let her talk! You will not make me believe that our pastor, such a good and pious and kind gentleman as he is, could be guilty of such a crime. Not one of those Government officials ever goes to Mass, or to his Easter duty. No doubt they will try and fasten it on him, he has been in their way for a long time." So spoke a stout, sturdy matron, doubling her fist, and shaking it ominously in the direction of the Mayor's residence. "Take care, do be quiet," urged a timid looking little woman, who had stood by in speechless horror, "if what you have been saying were repeated, you might get put into prison by the Mayor." "He had better try that on, a villain like him, who cannot even keep faithful to his wife, who— The good woman's indignant speech was cut short by the exclamations of those around her, for a small body of mounted police appeared, coming down the street, besides a carriage drawn by two horses, in which some important-looking person- ages were seated. A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 125

"Look, look, those must be the magistrates! The police are going to arrest our Pastor! Well, there must be something in it after all. Let us run up to the Convent, and see what is going on." "Go on then, you silly fools. I do not want to see the poor man dragged to prison. And nothing will ever convince me that a dear good Priest who does so much for the sick and the poor, has murdered anyone, not if the Mayor himself swore he saw him do it." Thereupon Father Montmoulin's lusty defender threw her window to with a bang, and hastened into the scullery, where she vented her annoyance on the pots and pans, and confided to them her opinions. A crowd soon collected on the terrace before the Convent, discussing the sad event, after the wont of the excitable southerner, in loud and animated tones. Though his window was closed, the voices reached Father Montmoulin's ear, and he heard several, to whom he had shown nothing but kindness, passing a harsh verdict upon him.

Thus it is with the unstable human heart ; always more prone to believe evil than to believe good of their fellow- men. The multitude love a scandal, especially when it emanates from a class above them, and whoever the supposed culprit may be, the populace now as of old is ready to cry "Crucify him." Men of education, who in such times of excitement would put in a word for the accused, and who would be grieved by the fall of one who till then had enjoyed a spotless reputation, do not mix among the multitude on such occasions. "String him up to the olive tree here, before 126 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

' the police come from Aix, ' said a stalwart youth, looking about him with complacency. "If he gets into Court, you see if some rascally lawyer does not get him off with his oily tongue. Here too, we could all see him kick better than if he were to be guillotined." "Xo," answered a butcher, "never fear, they have such proof that the first barrister in the land could not get him off. His cassock is soaked with blood, and the carving knife is all stained too, that he stabbed her with. I should not have credited the little man with as much pluck." " There was no particular pluck needed. The old woman would not offer much resistance. Be- sides, all the lot of money he took from her would have given many a man courage for the crime. They say it was upwards of £800."

"More than that! More than that ! Two thousand! Four thousand," one and another of the bystanders called out. "I tell you what, " whispered the cobbler, "it is a fortunate thing for Loser, the sacristan, that he went off to Marseilles on Sunday evening, and had not come back. Had he been there, suspicion would certainly have fallen on him, not on the Priest." "Oh yes, you say that because you hate the man, and would like to have been made sacristan instead of him." retorted a neighbor. "There is something though in what our cobbler there said," answered the butcher. "I should sooner have thought that Loser would have done it; he learnt that sort of business in the war. I heard "

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 127

him say he put an end to a couple of dozen Prus- sians with his own hand. Had he been there— "Listen to what Daddy Carillon is saying," was at that moment shouted on all sides. For the host of the Golden Rose had appeared in the doorway, and all present pressed forward to hear the news from him, and if possible, to get inside the building, which was locked against intruders. "Stand back, my good friends," the innkeeper began, "No one will be allowed to cross this threshold until the Officers of Justice have thoroughly investigated and examined all which we have discovered and searched into this night— this night, the most terrible I ever passed through ! I say we, because I too, my friends, have done my little part towards avenging innocent blood and punishing crime, and our Mayor— a man of uncom- mon enlightenment, of whom we may justly be proud — insisted on my humble name being added to the protocol we have drawn up, which unmasks the atrocities of which the clericals are guilty, pillories them publicly, and one may say, brings these wolves in sheep's clothing as a class within

reach of the hangman. For if our Priest, one of the best in the land, is. capable of committing this bloody deed, what may not be expected from the

others % It is well that this should have occurred before the election, for now the veil of hypocrisy wherewith they shrouded their evil deeds is rent asunder. The whole county, the whole country will hear of this. The light kindled in our village will be seen all over the land, and will illustrate the truth of what the great Gambetta said: Le '

128 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. clericalisme, voila Vennemi! These clericals are what we have most to fear. Any one who votes in their favour at the approaching elections is a traitor to his country. Down with the Priests ! ' The glib tongue of the loquacious innkeeper would probably have run on sometime longer, for the benefit of his hearers, had not the officials from Aix at that juncture appeared upon the scene. The mounted police drew up on each side of the doorway, and the carriage stopped in front. Mr. Carillon hurried forward instantly to open the door. A gentleman dressed in black with blue spectacles and a white moustache alighted first. He raised his hat slightly in acknowledgement of the profound obeisance of the innkeeper, and asked: "Have I the honor of speaking to the Mayor?" u l$o sir, my name is Carillon, at your service, the landlord of the Golden Rose. Your worship will see my name among those who signed the protocol. The Mayor is upstairs, with the accused, I might rather say the convict. Your Worship will find we have prepared all the preliminaries. Allow me to show you the way upstairs. Meanwhile the police will prevent the people, who are naturally exasper- ated, from entering the Convent, lest in their just indignation they should lynch the murderer. The examining magistrate was accompanied by an agent of police, and a clerk carrying a large portfolio. Without answering a single word to Carillon's speech, they followed him to the Priest's apartments, where the Mayor introduced himself and his companions. Then the magistrate, whose name was Mr. Barthelot, expressed his wish to be :

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 129 briefly acquainted with the facts of the case. His request having been complied with, the Mayor added a At first we thought that the lady had met with an accident as she was leaving this rambling old building, and wondered to find the Priest so very backward in assisting us, when we proposed to make the necessary examination of the corridors and passages. It only dawned on us, when we found the body, that the Priest might be the guilty party, our suspicion being aroused by his strange manner, and also by the fact that there was no one else in the Convent at the time of the murder. Then we found him furtively engaged in washing great spots of blood off his cassock, and soon after, the basket belonging to the murdered lady came to light, as well as the knife with which the crime had evidently been perpetrated and a handkerchief on which it had been wiped, all secreted in the kitchen." "That is undeniably very weighty, almost overwhelming evidence. Allow me to congratulate you on having discovered so much. What does the accused say for himself ?" "He stoutly denies his guilt. In fact he boldly asserts his innocence and has the effrontery to call God to witness. Do you wish to see him'? He is in the next room under the surveillance of a constable."

' 'Not at present. The next thing will be to look through the report which I am told you have drawn up, with the Inspector of Police. Then we must make a thorough inspection of the scene of the 130 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. murder, and all the other parts of this building.

Has the medical officer been called in 1 Very well, we shall hear what he says. And the money the sum that was stolen, has that been found V " Unfortunately it has not been found. Our surmise is that the Priest has concealed it in some part of this spacious structure." "That is not improbable. At any rate a strict search must be made from garret to cellar. Mr. Pecard, you will have the goodness to undertake this important task, with your men. We will meanwhile inspect the spot where the crime was committed, and all that is connected with it." When the magistrate had concluded his attentive perusal of the minutes, the Mayor conducted him into the kitchen, and showed him the knife and the handkerchief, and the place where they had been discovered. "It seems very remarkable," the magistrate observed, "that these things should have been so badly secreted. It looks as if they had been thrust in there purposely, in order that they might be found. Certainly one has met with instances in which the culprit acted in this way, intentionally, in order to say : Had I been guilty, I should not have been so imprudent as to incriminate myself. Did the clergyman say anything of " that nature, when the knife was found here ? "I think not. He feigned astonishment and asserted his innocence." The next step was to examine the blood-stained cassock. "How does the Priest explain the presence of these stains'?" the magistrate inquired. And when he heard the Mayor's answer, he added, ""

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 131 shrugging bis shoulders: "The man could not have done a more foolish thing, if his explanation was the correct one. Had he left the cassock alone, it would have been easy to ascertain whether

the spots were congealed blood ; now that he tried to wash the in out, it will be almost impossible to decide whether they were fresh blood or congealed. The Mayor then conducted his companion through the dark ^ ..idor to the tribune, informing him that, according to the Priest's own testimony, the murdered lady was in the habit of going out that way, in order to pay a visit of adoration to the Blessed Sacrament, and then descend by the winding staircase. He lighted a taper, and showed him the way down to the landing-place, on which the inner sacristy-door opened. "This is the spot where it was done," he said. "The assassin must have stood in this corner, behind the half-opened door, awaiting the coming of his victim."

"But how could the Priest have got here, if according to his own declaration and your supposition, he parted from her up there at his own door! "By one of two ways; either by going down the principal flight of stairs and through the cloisters and coming up by this staircase, or by quietly slipping past her while she was praying in the tribune, by the way we have just come." "Or he might have accompanied her, and attacked her in this very favorable spot," added the magistrate. "One thing is however certain:' no one who was not perfectly familiar with the plan of this house, and with the habits of the deceased . lady, could have committed the deed." 132 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

1 'He must also have known that she would be passing this way at that particular time with a sum of money in her possession. Who but the Priest could have known it?" "You are right. These are undoubtedly strong grounds for suspecting him. Would you open the door, if you please." The magistrate stood in the doorway and contemplated the body as it lay concealed under the pall. "Of course you spread that grave-cloth over it,' 7 he said to the Mayor. "No, no; that is precisely how we found it; we only lifted up the pall sufficiently to enable us to identify the deceased and make sure that life was extinct." "That is very remarkable. An ordinary murderer would scarcely have done that. I think the Priest betrays himself there," rejoined the magistrate. "Leave it just as it is, until the doctor has seen the body, and the inquest has been held. Now tell me, how did the clergyman behave, when you discovered the corpse?" "I believe I told you he took us down another way first, though he knew all the time, that this was the way Mrs. Blan chard went. When he was obliged to pass by here with us, he gave a very peculiar, timid glance at this door; I am certain of that, for it was that very look that induced me to open the door—and at that same moment his lamp went out." "Did he blow it out?" "N-no, at least I did not see him do so. I think it was the draught that extinguished it. But A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 133 what struck us all was, that he at a single glance recognized the body, while we saw nothing more than that ghastly pall. Then before we could get another candle, he knelt down by the corpse there, and began to recite some prayers." "He seems really to have knelt in the blood on the floor here, so perhaps we may accept his explanation of the bloodstains as correct. But that does not establish his innocence. Lock up the room for the present, and let us go upstairs again." As they mounted the stairs together, the magistrate inquired if it was quite certain that the sacristan was not in the house at the time of the murder. The Mayor replied that there was no question about it, that even the Priest admitted it. There could not have been any one at all in the house at the time, between 10 and 11 a. m. but the clergyman and the unhappy lady. The old servant had been sent away before the visitor arrived, on the pretext that her master was unwell and wanted rest ; she was not to return until the next morning. And the old man who rang the Angel us when the sacristan was absent, only came to the house a few minutes before noon, and departed again immediately after. "If that fact can really be substantiated," the magistrate answered, the evidence is very strong, against him. I must examine the servant and the

man who rang the Angelus ; let them be summoned immediately. The motive that could have prompted the man to commit this crime remains to be considered. It could not be revenge, jealousy or anything of that sort—it must have been for the sake of the ' ' "

134 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

money. Is lie considered to be very avaricious?" "Quite the contrary. I must do him the justice to say that he gives away more than his means would warrant." "Perhaps he got deeply into debt?" "Not to my knowledge. But he is poor, and his mother is very poor. For some time past he has wanted to have her to live with him. She was here on Sunday, and did not leave until the next morning, scarcely an hour before the murder was committed. She resides in Aix, in embarrassed circumstances, I believe. Ah, an idea has just struck me— "And me too," interrupted the magistrate sharply. "You mean she may have taken the money with her, and so there is no chance of our finding it here. '

"That might be so, if we had not the receipt here, signed by the unfortunate lady." "What, he made her give him a receipt? that strengthens the case against him. He could easily get her — a goodnatured old soul — to put her signature to the paper by some little stratagem, such as for instance, saying he had the money locked up in the sacristy and would put it in her hands when she got down stairs. You told me the winding stairs led down to the sacristy'? Well, Mrs. Blanchard would sign the receipt upstairs, to avoid having to go back, and on her way down get a stab in the side instead her of money. What do you say to such a supposition'?" "I admire your acuteness sir; it all fits ad-

' mirably ! A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 135

"Experience teaches one that sort of thing. When a man has been on the bench as long as I have, he makes acquaintance with the dodges of criminals. Now, thanks to your able assistance, we have what I may call a solid basis of operation.

Now we have to act upon it. The first thing is to send a telegram to Aix, to enjoin the police to keep their eye upon Mrs. Montmoulin. You know her address." "Unfortunately I do not. Nor do I know anyone who could inform me of it except her own son himself." "He will tell it us, no doubt. Now we must, for form's sake hold a brief examination of the servant and the old man who rang the bell ; then comes the turn of the accused." CHAPTEE XII.

The Cross-examination.

At the close of the conversation reported in the preceding chapter, the two speakers had reached the door leading to the Priest's apartments. There they found the landlord of the Golden Rose waiting to inform them that he had taken the liberty of preparing breakfast for them in an adjoining room. He felt sure that Mr. Barthelot must have left Aix too early to take anything before his departure. "True, I had only time for a cup of coffee before starting," the magistrate replied, "and when our inquiry is ended, I shall be happy to avail myself of your invitation. But we must get forward with

our work ; that telegram to Aix cannot be despatched too soon,' 7 he added, turning to the Mayor. However he allowed himself to be persuaded to take a glass of Madeira and some cold chicken, whilst Susan and old Jim were summoned. The old man declared he had only come to ring the Angelus at noon, and had gone away immediately after; he had neither heard or seen anything unusual. He had seen nothing of the sacristan, and would take care how he did his work for him again, if it was to get him into trouble with the police. Susan had to be brought up between a couple of policemen, and on first appearing before the magistrate not a word could be got from her but tears and sobs. All at once however, she dried her eyes, (136) A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 137

and was voluble in her abuse of the Mayor, the magistrate and all the officers of the law. What right had they, or any one to send the police for her, an old woman of seventy, against whom not a word could be said, as if she were a common thief. Perhaps they were going to accuse her of having

murdered the poor old lady ? No wonder if they

did, if they could do such a crying wrong to a good and holy man like Father Montmoulin, as to charge him with the crime. Times were indeed changed! It all came of having a man set over the community who did not fulfil his Easter duty, and who — well let them ask his wife what sort of a man he was! The old woman, having spent her wrath, relapsed into sobs and lamentations. The magistrate could scarcely repress a smile at this personal attack upon the Mayor, and he made a sign to the latter to let it pass. He then reproved the police for having been discourteous in their treatment of so respectable a person. He told her that it was in order to clear the Priest from suspicion that he had had her called to give evidence, so that for her master's sake she must answer the questions addressed to her. This pacified her somewhat, and she told her story with tolerable coherence : how the knife had been missing the first thing in the morning, that her Master had told her before ten o'clock that he was unwell,

and would not want her any more that day ; that as she was going out of the house she met Mrs. Blanchard coming in, and heard and saw nothing of her till evening, when her little maid came running in to say her mistress had not returned home. ' "

138 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

"What did you answer the girl?" "I exclaimed, Good heavens, some misfortune must have happened to her!" "What made you say that?" "Because his Reverence had told me she was coming to fetch a large sum of money for the new hospital." "Did anyone else know that Mrs. Blanchard was going at that time to fetch the money"?" "No indeed, do you imagine that I am such a tattler? I did not say a word about it to any living soul." "You say you met Mrs. Blanchard coming to the Convent. What time was it then ? "The clock had just struck ten. She said good morning to me, and asked if she should find Father Montmoulin alone. I said yes; his mother had just left, and no one was with him." "Had his mother a basket or bag in her hand, when she left?" "Yes, she was carrying a little bag which his Reverence had given her, I think it contained some linen that wanted mending." "Was the bag heavy or light?" "I cannot tell. I wanted to carry it downstairs for her, but she would not let it out of her hand." The Magistrate and the Mayor exchanged a knowing glance. "Do you know perhaps where the Reverend gentleman's mother lives ?" "Yes, in the Rue de la Colombe in Aix. I do not know the number. She has a little shop for woolen wares near the market. ' " !

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 139

The magistrate made a note of the address. "You are sure that your master was alone in the Convent when Mrs. Blanchard went to him, the sacristan was not there 1 i 'No the scoundrel took himself off on Sunday evening, and has not been back since." "Well, Susan, what is your opinion: If Father Montmoulin was the only person in the house when the old lady met her fate, on whom does the suspicion fall V "How should I know? Certainly not upon his Beverence, there is not a better or more saintly man than he ! I would sooner believe the devil did it himself, or sent some rascal to kill the old lady in order to bring this trouble upon a good Priest, and then carried him off." Everyone present smiled at the old servant's very original alternative, certainly not in keeping with modern ideas. But she was highly dis- pleased : "What is there to laugh at in that ?" she continued. "Everyone knows the devil has his own instruments, and it is nothing wonderful for him to carry anyone off. It should make a good Christian tremble, instead of laughing. And you take care, Mr. Mayor you may profess not to ; believe in the devil, but I should not be surprised if he came to fetch you one day ! "Ha, ha, well done, Susan!" exclaimed the stout doctor, who had entered the room during Susan's peroration, aod caught her last words.

'/Well done ! Give it the old sinner hot and strong I would not have given you credit for such eloquence! The clericals ought to return you to " " "

140 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

Parliament. I believe you would like the devil to

carry off all these scamps of Liberals ! —All in good part, gentlemen. I have the honour to place my services at the disposal of the representatives of the law." "This is our medical practitioner, Dr. Corbil- lard," said the Mayor by the way of introduction to the strangers present, while the witness was told she might withdraw, "I think, Doctor, you might have had the civility to come a little sooner— "Not a single moment! I always act on the

principle : first see to the living, because you may

do them some good ; it does not matter to the dead how long they wait. Just when your message came I was called to see a sick man four miles

away among the hills ; I have only just returned and am now at your service. The post-mortem examination then took place. Father Montmoulin's knife was found to be the instrument with which the wound was inflicted. The candlestick which Charles had, as will be remembered, let fall in his fright at the sight of the skull and crossbones, was found and recognized as the property of the Priest. This the magistrate considered as a corroboration of his theory that he had lured his victim down to the sacristy under the pretext of the money being there, thinking the winding staircase would afford the best facilities for the execution of his hideous project. "Now we have the whole connected chain of evidence," he said with no small satisfaction. "We will let the accused feel all the force of it at once, and I shall be very much surprised if he does not confess forthwith . A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 141

So saying, Mr. Barthelot reentered the Priest's sitting-room, and taking Ms seat at the table with the clerk, he ordered the accused to be brought before him. Father Montmoulin slept the sleep of the worn out until, soon after day-break, he was aroused by the unusual commotion outside the convent-walls, caused by the concourse of villagers who had nocked thither in ever increasing numbers. When first he opened his eyes, he thought he had had a bad dream and was thankful to think it was over. But the next moment he caught sight of the constable who sat watching him, and of the basin of water in which he had tried to cleanse his cassock, and he knew that it was no phantasy of one night that weighed upon him, but stern and terrible reality. All the events of the preceding night crowded in upon his mind — Loser's confession, the search throughout the house, the discovery of the body and the blood-stained knife. The future then rose up before him in darkest colours. He had been taken into custody under strong suspicion of having committed a horrible murder with robbery, presently he would be taken to prison like an ordinary criminal before the eyes of all his parishioners. He already heard their voices below his window. What a terrible scandal! what a disgrace for him! Then he would be brought to trial, and be impotent to do anything except assert his own innocence of the crime whereof he was accused.

Would he be believed % He did not dare to hope that such would be the case. The jury would pronounce him guilty, and the Judge would pass !

142 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

sentence upon him. And then the guillotine stared him in the face Father Montmoulin would have been more than human, had not this dreadful prospect affected him profoundly. "If this terrible doom wo aid fall on

me alone, he said to himself, I could bear it, but my mother and my sister will be involved in my shame, and what sad scandal it will give in my congregation, and far beyond the narrow limits of this parish." Again he went over all in his mind. Loser's confession, although inspired by nothing but fear, was yet, as he could not but admit, made with the object of obtaining sacramental absolution, and consequently a confession, which he was bound under all circumstances to keep secret. He dare not even let it be known that Loser went to him to confession the evening before, for that, under the existing state of affairs, would almost amount to an accusation against him. He had, it was true, seen him before he knew that he came with a view to confession, and the mere fact that he had seen him had nothing to do with the confession. Besides, it was evident that if he were to declare that he had seen Loser, it would be a strong evidence in his own favour. But Father Montmoulin had already been asked whether he had seen the man since the afternoon of Sunday, and had answered in the negative, because, as he told himself, Loser had only come to him for the sake of confession, and to admit that he had been there at all seemed to him likely to endanger his sacred obligation to preserve silence. Therefore he A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 143

decided to abide by what he had already said, since he could not well retract his statement without indirectly giving rise to the supposition that Loser had been to confession to him, and everyone would suspect what his confession had been. All the various grounds of suspicion which told so strongly against him lay heavy on Father Mont- moulin's heart. He knew that the embarrassment which he had been unable to conceal on the occasion of the Mayor's entrance and the discovery of the body, must place him in a very unfavorable light. Could he not explain this unfortunate circumstance by saying : Yes, I knew of the crime that had been perpetrated, but only through the confessional. So long as no particular individual was brought under suspicion, or into a position of difficulty, this could not be a violation of the seal of confession. Yet it might lead to it. No one except Loser had been to confession to him, or had been near him at all, after the murder, and if through the inquiries of the police, or by any accident, the fact that Loser had been to him that same night were discovered, his admission that he had heard of the crime from the lips of a penitent would be equivalent

to an acusation against the man ; the only penitent who came to him, the only person he saw in the Convent was Loser, therefore he was the murderer. No, there was no doubt; nothing in the world should induce him to exculpate himself by saying that he was told of the fatal deed in the confessional. Thus no means of escape was left him. Another idea occurred to him. The sacristan had come upon him by surprise whilst he was count- 144 A VICTIM OF THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

ing the money on Sunday afternoon. Might he not at least mention this fact to the magistrate, since it was wholly unconnected with the confessional, and it was certainly calculated to throw suspicion on the right person. If Loser had not been to confession subsequently, Father Montmoulin would certainly have spoken of the circumstance, but now he deemed it more advisable- not to give this hint as to the real criminal, justifiable as it undoubtedly was. " After all," he said to himself, "it may be conjectured that it was through his confession that I was able to detect the criminal. No, I will do nothing that will cause him to be suspected, lest I should even in the remotest degree occasion doubt to arise as to the inviolability of the seal of confession. I would rather die than appear not to have guarded it most faithfully!" Such was the heroic resolution the conscientious Priest formed, and when all hesitation was at an end, j>eace returned to his soul. He calmly recited his morning prayers, and then took up his breviary and began to say the hours. The constable whose duty it was to keep his eye on the Priest, was not a little astonished to see with what tranquility and resolution he performed his orisons, while from the courtyard below the uproar grew louder and louder, and soine voices openly denounced the Priest and called for his death. "It is an odd thing," the man said to himself, "if I had not se'en that bloody knife, I should declare the fellow was innocent. However I have often heard it said that the clergy are all of them

' consummate hypocrites. ' So saying he knocked the ashes out of his pipe and proceeded to fill it afresh. '

A VICTIM OF THE, SEAL OF CONFESSION. 145

About ten o'clock Father Montmoulin was summoned to appear before the magistrate. He was received courteously, and given a seat opposite to his interrogator. After the usual questions as to name, birth, etc. which the clerk duly noted down, the magistrate said : "It is unnecessary to say a word about the unfortunate occurrence which obliges me to examine you, Eev. Sir, you are only too well acquainted with the circumstances already. I must however lay before you the overwhelming evidence against you which the preliminary investigation has brought to light, and which have led to a charge being brought against you, from which I do not see how you can clear yourself. Let me advise you in your own interest to make a clean breast of it; it is the only means of escaping a capital sentence." Father Montmoulin politely thanked the magistrate and assured him that he was innocent of the crime imputed to him. "It will avail you but little to assert your inno-

' cence in the face of the facts we have here, ' Mr. Barthelot continued more sternly. "It is proved that Mrs. Blanchard came to you yesterday about ten o'clock, for the purpose of fetching a considerable sum of money that was in your hands ; she was foully murdered at a time when there was no other person under the roof with her besides yourself. —How do you account for this ? 1 'Is it proved that I was the only person under the roof with her % ' '•'Undoubtedly. The only person who could have disturbed you was your old servant, and you 146 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. took the precaution of dismissing her, saying that you would not require her services until the next morning." "I was not well." "One would imaging that to be a reason for wishing her to remain in the house." "I was tired out, and only needed rest." "And yet you were up and about between ten and eleven at night ! But we will let that pass. At any rate the woman was not here at the time of the murder. Nor was the sacristan, since you granted

— or perhaps offered I — him leave of absence the evening before. You yourself allowed that he did not come back to your knowledge."

The answer : "He might have come back without my knowledge," rose to the Priest's lips, but his fear of even approaching the secret he had to keep, prevented him from uttering this perfectly justifiable reply. Instead of that he contended himself with the vague remark that some one else might perhaps have gained admittance to the building. "The crime is not one which any tramp could have committed," pursued the magistrate. "The criminal must have had an accurate acquaintance with the house, and above all, must have known that Mrs. Blanchard was going at an appointed time to fetch a large sum of money from you, and that she would go down that dark winding staircase with it in her possession, unaccompanied by you — that is, if your account of the matter is cor-

rect ; I take the liberty of imagining the facts of the case to be somewhat different. Now tell me : How could a stranger possibly have obtained the neces- A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 147

sary information? Did you tell anyone that the lady would go out that back way between ten and eleven with the money in her pocket?''

1 ' 'I did not know it myself, ' the Priest exclaimed. "And you would have me believe some stray tramp knew it ! or have you grounds for suspecting any individual ?" If Loser had not been to confession to him, Father Montmoulin would probably have replied that the sacristan might very well have come back from his pretended journey, laid in wait for his victim, and struck her down. He did not dare to mention this now, lest he should be thought to be violating the secrecy of the confessional. So he only remarked that he would not venture to bring an accusation against any person in particular. "And how can you explain your knife, your handkerchief — both stained with blood — and the poor lady' s basket being found in your kitchen ? You will perhaps say the murderer put them there in order to cause you to be suspected. But he would have attained his end had he merely made use of your knife, and left it lying by the corpse. A stranger would hardly think it safe to carry knife, cloth and basket up to your kitchen, where you or anyone else might have caught him, instead of making off instantly with his booty."

"I cannot explain why, but certainly it was done." "You cannot satisfy justice with these evasive answers. Now look here ; do you know where this candlestick comes from?" And Mr. Barthelot suddenly produced the candlestick which poor little Charles had let fall. '

148 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

"Certainly I do," Father Montmoulin answered. "It is one of the candlesticks that I use at Mass; I missed it yesterday morning." "Just like the knife! Perhaps you do not know where that was found? Under the body of the murdered woman!" Father Montmoulin turned pale. He felt that the weight of evidence against him was heavier than he had supposed. His eyes grew moist, and he could scarcely control his voice as he answered: "Appearances are indeed against me, that no one can deny. Nevertheless I am innocent of the crime; God is my witness." "It would be far wiser on your part to make a full confession of this fatal act, as I told you before, instead of attempting to impose on me by maun- dering and posturising," said the magistrate angrily. "I hate scenes; once more I ask you, will you acknowledge your guilt or no?" "I can only repeat that I am perfectly innocent.

My God ! Whatever do you imagine would have

' induced me to commit such crime % "That is a psychological problem, of which perhaps the solution is not so very far to seek. Why, you are poor, you are in want of books, as the poverty-stricken appearance of your bookshelves testifies, as does the order for the bookseller which was found lying on your desk. You wanted to furnish rooms for your mother. I am told she has a struggle to make both ends meet ; here was an opportunity to help her, and perhaps others too, and the temptation was too much for you. You see the idea that you did it for your mother's sake '

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 149 makes me more lenient in regard to what is in itself a dreadful crime, and I promise you, that every extenuating circumstance shall be urged in your favor and your mother's, and you shall not suffer the full rigor of the law, if you will frankly confess your guilt. ' "My mother!" Father Montmoulin exclaimed. "How can my mother possibly be implicated in this affair ?" "I feel convinced that your mother carried the money away in the little handbag she had with

her, if we fail, that is, to find it concealed on these premises. At all events, your mother will be arrested as accessory to the deed." "For Heaven's sake have pity on her! It will be her death," cried the Priest. But the magistrate showed no sign of relenting. "Confess your guilt, and your mother shall be treated with the utmost consideration. Otherwise I shall order her to be arrested. And you too shall be taken in a

closed carriage to Aix ; but if you persist in asserting your innocence, you will be dealt with as a common criminal. Do you imagine that your profession will entitle you to any indulgence^ a clergyman who can perpetrate such a deed, deserves to be put to public shame ten times more than a vulgar murderer." "I can do nothing more than assert my innocence, and leave the rest to God," Father Mont- moulin responded calmly. The magistrate shrugged his- shoulders and passed the protocol, after it had been read over by the clerk, to the accused for

signature. The unfortunate man felt as if he were 150 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. signing his own death-warrant. Then Mr. Barthe- lot called in the police and gave him into custody. The prisoner held out his hands without a murmur, yet he could not restrain a shudder as the handcuffs closed on his wrists. He raised his eyes to the crucifix, and was enabled to maintain outward composure. The Mayor and the other Government officials then re-entered the room. "Our task is ended for the present," said the magistrate. "The police officers, with the assistance of the Mayor, to whose prompt and sagacious action we owe the speedy discovery of the murder, will complete the search of the house, and take possession of the prisoner's papers. He shall be removed at once to the prison at Aix, and we must see that his mother does not escape the hand of the law. It is not necessary to provide a closed conveyance for the prisoner ; he certainly is not deserving of such an attention, and it is just as well to show that the lawr is impartial in its treatment of the clergy." "I am quite of your opinion Sir," replied the Mayor, with a low bow. He then gave the required orders to his subordinates. In vain the good- hearted Dr. Corbillard endeavoured to obtain some relaxation on behalf of the prisoner. ."I am no friend of Priests," he said, "but I must in common justice testify that our Pastor here has always shown himself most kind and charitable in regard to the sick, and I find it very difficult to believe in his guilt, strongly as circumstances witness against him. Besides, his guilt is not yet proved, and until it is, he ought not to be treated as a convicted criminal." '

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 151

"Perhaps you will have the goodness to leave it to me to decide what treatment he is to receive, and whether his guilt is to be considered as proved or not," the magistrate replied haughtily. "That is what it is! " rejoined the Doctor, in a tone of annoyance. "This is but a fresh manoeuvre in the plan of campaign against the Clerical party.

Hear the people outside shouting : Down with the Priests ! ? The others retorted angrily that it was no such thing, and declined making any alteration in their arrangements. The Doctor turned to leave the room, muttering under his breath. Just as he got to the door, he paused, and addressing the prisoner, said: "I have not attended your sermons, Father, nor have I troubled you in the confessional; yet I have always respected you as a kind and good man, and I do not believe you to be capable of any wickedness. Keep up your courage! If there is a God in heaven, He will interfere in your behalf." "Thank you, Doctor," Father Montmoulin replied. "He will make my innocence clear as the day before His own judgment- seat, if He does not do so before an earthly tribunal." ' "

CHAPTER XIII.

In the Prison at Aix.

After the inquest, at which nothing fresh was elicited, the body of the unfortunate lady was laid on a temporary bier in the principal passage of the Convent. The doors were then opened to admit the crowds who nocked in. Mrs. Blanchard had been laughed at sometimes for. her piety, but she had never made it offensive, and she was adored by the poor on account of her charity. One may imagine the grief of the people on seeing their benefactress lying cold and stark, and in propor- tion to their grief was their rage against the cruel murderer. "Look at that, see how the wretch strangled the poor dear lady ! ' "Throttled her and stabbed her too. Look, her dress is saturated with blood. "No, no, our good clergyman never did that!"

"He must have done it. It was done with his knife. It has all been proved against him." "The rascal ought to be torn in pieces." "Now you see what use religion is! I for one shall never go inside a church again." Such were some of the remarks made by the ignorant and easily prejudiced crowd. One said one thing, and one another, and only a small minority ventured to insist on their Pastor's innocence, or at least express their doubts as to his guilt. And (152) A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 153 when the cry was raised: "Here lie comes! They are bringing him out!" all attention was turned to the small escort of police who were advancing, their truncheons drawn, ready to protect the prisoner who walked in their midst, and make a way for him through the crowd. As they passed the spot where the bier stood, Father Montmoulin involuntarily paused, and raising his fettered hands in supplication, murmured the prayer : "Eternal rest give to her O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her." Tears filled his eyes; availing himself of a momentary hush, he attempted to address a few words to the bystanders, but scarcely could he say : "My children, I am innocent" before he was interrupted with insults, and the police hurried him on, fearful lest any violence should be used against him. At the gate of the convent a farmer's cart was standing, such as is used to carry sheep or calves to market. The driver, a rough labourer, looked at the muddy cassock the Priest wore, and made some rude jest as to the queer load he had to carry, which the onlookers received with laughter and repartee. Meanwhile Father Montmoulin got into the vehicle, and seated himself, a policeman by his side, on a sack of straw. The unhappy Priest's feeling as they drove off may be better imagined than described. He looked up once more at the church, and remembered the last sermon he had preached within its walls, only two days before, on the seal of confession, little thinking how soon he himself would become a victim of that stringent law. He glanced at the 154 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. crowd, some of whom were following the cart shouting imprecations upon him, and in the background he saw many a sorrowful and compassionate countenance; but those who believed in him and felt for him were bewildered and timid, afraid to express openly their opinion of his innocence. So it was when our Lord was led bound through the streets of Jerusalem from the tribunal of Caiaphas to Pilate's palace, and the thought of this brought comfort to the heart of the Pastor, as the rude conveyance jolted over the rough stones of the village street. He closed his eyes and silently prayed that for the sake of Christ's Passion strength might be imparted to him. Only once he opened them, when the village school was being passed, and amongst the voices of the adults, who all turned out of their houses to gaze at and abuse him, he heard one or two children's voices calling him a murderer. This hurt him more than anything; lie looked at the offenders with an expression of sor-

rowful reproach which silenced them ; at the same time he saw others crying and bewailing his departure, and their childish sympathy was balm to his wounded heart. The worst was over when the village was left behind. The few who had run after the cart as far as the Four Ways dropped off, and on the highroad there were only occasional groups of peasants, who were returning from the market at Aix after disposing of the produce of their farms and gardens, or labourers who left their work in the fields at the sight of the escort of the mounted police and the prisoner wearing handcuffs in the cart. Now and :

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 155 again exclamations such as these were heard "Look, the police have got a Priest! They are taking him to prison ! He is handcuffed ! Whatever can he have done? Why it is the Priest of Ste. Victoire!" and the driver was never averse to satisfying the curiosity of inquirers by informing them who the prisoner was, and what the crime wherewith he was charged. "Look at him," he would add, "they are all alike; his next sermon will be from the scaffold. That's what your clergy are; away with them all." Not until Aix was reached did Father Mont- moulin experience to the full the pain and ignominy of this via cruris. The report had already reached the town that a priest was to be brought in, convicted of robbery with murder, and on the way to the prison heads were thrust out of every window, the shop-keepers stood on their door- steps, the lowest rabble filled the streets, and it was not without difficulty that the cart made its way in some parts through the crowds of roughs that surged around it. Turning a corner into the market place, where business was still going on, the convoy came momentarily to a standstill, at the very spot where, as ill luck would have it, or rather as Providence decreed, Father Montmoulin's mother was standing, making a few purchases at one of the stalls. "One moment, my good lady," quoth the stall- keeper, a sturdy, weather-beaten old woman, "I will serve you directly, only I must see who they are taking to prison. Hold the chair, child, while I get up on it to look," she said to Mrs. Montmou- 156 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. lin's granddaughter, who was carrying the basket for her grandmother. "They did say, it was a priest who had committed murder—my goodness, is it possible ! yes, the prisoner in the cart actually has a cassock on ! Do you see child ? Get up here and look." In the twinkling of an eye Julia climbed up on the stand, and no sooner did she catch sight of the prisoner who sat with closed eyes, pale and patient in the cart, than she screamed aloud: "Grand- mother, it is Uncle!" Hardly knowing what she did, the old woman turned round, and as the convoy proceeded on its way, she caught a glimpse of her son, and calling him by name, she fell fainting to the ground. The cry reached Father Montmoulin's ears, and he recognized his mother's voice. He sprang to his feet, and begged the guard for Heaven's sake to stop one moment, that he might speak a word of consolation to his mother ; but the police only ordered the driver to go faster, and ere long they drew up at the prison gates. After the usual formalities had been gone through in the presence of the Governor, the prisoner was given in charge

i to one of the warders with the words : 'Robbery and murder, as good as proven. Take the prisoner to cell 11, and let him be closely watched." The massive iron gates which separated the main body of the prison from the wing containing the Governor's apartments and the various offices, swung back on their hinges to admit the prisoner and the attendant warder. The porter who opened the gates looked the Priest up and down with a A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 157 sinister expression, then all was locked and bolted behind them. Father Montmoulin's heart was heavy as he walked by the warder's side down a long corridor, closed by a heavy iron grating, on both sides of which were the prisoners' cells. The warder unlocked No. 11, and ushered his companion into the gloomy chamber. Father Montmoulin glanced at the bare, whitewashed walls, the tiny window with its iron bars and wooden shutter, through which a narrow strip of blue sky alone was visible, the small table and wooden stool standing on one side, whilst against the opposite wall was a wretched pallet with a straw mattress ; then he turned to the warder and asked if he would take off the handcuffs and get him a breviary and writing materials. "I will take off the handcuffs," the man replied, with a searching look at the prisoner. "You seem a quieter chap than your predecessor here, who tried to commit suicide when he found he was sentenced to death. He hung himself to the bars of the window, but we cut him down in time, so the hangman was not cheated. I dare say the Gover- nor will allow you to have writing materials, but we have not got the book you ask for, it is quite unnecessary." "It is very necessary for me, I am under the obligation of saying it every day. Would you have the kindness to ask the Governor to get me one from the Director of the Diocesan Seminary.

He knows me quite well ; my God, how amazed he will be when he hears I am imprisoned on a charge of robbery with murder!" 158 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

"I will mention your wish to the Superinten- dent," the warder answered. u Is there anything

else you want ? No ? "We generally get no end of requests, very few of which are granted, let me tell you. A prayerbook is the last thing asked for. There is your pitcher of water, in that corner; your food will be put through this sliding-door. I suppose you will wish to be supplied from outside,

until after the trial. The prices are : 1st class, ten

shillings per diem ; 2d class, five ; 3d class, three. Which will you have V J "What does the usual prison fare cost?"

"Nothing at all, it is supplied gratis, but I warn you it is not very appetizing." "I have no doubt it will do for me. I am poor, and so are my relations. And the prison fare will be suitable for Lent, on which we have just entered," Father Montnioulm rejoined with a mournful smile. The warder stared at him for a moment. "As you please," he said and turned to depart. Then coming back, he took up the pitcher saying, "At * any rate Sir, I will fetch you some fresh water and a piece of good bread," and left the cell, half annoyed with himself for having been moved to pity by the pale, delicate looking Priest in the shabby cassock. i 'That is the strangest murderer I have ever seen," he said to himself as he bolted and locked the door. "I have had experience of a good many during twenty years' service here, but none has been like this one. But there must be strong evidence against him, or the Governor would not have sent him to No. 11. Perhaps he is A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 159

only a better dissembler than the others. I am not going to let myself be taken in at my years." As soon as he was left in solitude, Father Mont- moulin knelt down and made an offering to God of the bitter shame and disgrace which had been his portion during the past twenty-four hours. He did so from his heart, although he felt within him the natural repugnance that everyone feels to humilia- tion and injustice. He then prayed for fortitude, that he might drink the chalice of suffering like his Lord, to the dregs, and endure anything and everything rather than be unfaithful in the slightest degree to the sacred obligation of secrecy. For some time he remained at prayer; at length he found consolation and peace of mind. "I cannot do otherwise," he said to himself; "I must do my duty, and leave the rest in God's hands. He will make all turn out for the best. In te Domine speravi; non confundar in aeternwni.'n After thus raising his heart to God, Father Montmoulin, worn out with sorrow and fatigue, laid down on his hard and narrow bed, and from sheer exhaustion, fell into a heavy sleep. When he awoke, it was almost dark. The warder must have been in, for he found a pitcher of water on his table, besides some bread and the writing materials he desired. A basin of soup and a small piece of meat had also been put in through the sliding door, both were cold, as if they had been there some time. He ate some bread and meat, and then said his beads, which he had been allowed to retain when his pockets were searched. After- wards he paced up and down his cell, endeavouring 160 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

calmly to reflect what it would be best for him to do. He decided to write to his ecclesiastical superiors the next morning, giving a brief statement of what had occurred, and declaring his innocence, with an earnest entreaty that they would both counsel him how to act and take steps in his behalf, not so much for his sake as for that of the clergy in general, who would be involved in his disgrace, and for the sake of averting terrible scandal to the faithful and to unbelievers. Next to this, his principal anxiety was as to what would become of his mother, whose image, as she fell fainting in the marketplace, was continually before his mind. But he could do nothing except commend her to Providence. He had no friends in Aix to whom he could write asking them to look after her. At length it occurred to him that amongst his parishioners there might be some kindly-disposed person, in tolerably affluent circumstances, who would befriend her, if, as he feared, the blow which fell upon him would affect her also. After long hesitation he fixed upon a wealthy landowner, who had no children, and whom he had visited very assidu- ously during a recent severe illness. "If it comes to the worst I will write to him," he said to himself, as he prepared to go to rest ; and God, who gives sleep to His beloved, sent to this faithful servant, who was so sorely tried, a long and refreshing slumber, from which he did not awake until the light of a new day shone through the iron bars of his prison window. "It is a wonder how one can sleep under such circumstances!" he said to himself almost cheer- A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 161

fully as lie rose and dressed. After his usual devotion, including a meditation on our Lord's Passion, which he was accustomed to take for the subject of his meditations during Lent, he seated himself at the table, and wrote to the Vicar-General, enclosing a short note to the Archbishop. He also wrote to his mother, to comfort and encourage her; there was no need to assure her of his innocence. He felt not a little uneasy on account of the magistrate having threatened to arrest her, but he tried to persuade himself this was an empty menace. There was nothing to be done but to leave this all

to God ; even if his mother were put in prison and sentenced to some punishment as accessory to the crime, it would not justify him in breaking the seal of confession. When his letters were finished, Father Mont- moulin looked round for his Breviary, intending to recite it as usual. He then remembered that he had not been supplied with one, and was obliged to content himself with saying the Eosary in its place. Then he waited as patiently as he could until the warder should come for his letters and perhaps bring him up for further examination. Shortly before noon the bolts of the cell door were drawn back, and to his great joy Father Regent, the Director of the Seminary, entered. The good old man looked kindly but sorrowfully at his former pupil: u My dear Francis !" he exclaimed, "this is indeed a terrible trial for you! I heard yesterday of the calamity that had befallen you and tried to see you, but could not get permission. This morning I went to the Prefect of the 162 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OE CONFESSION.

Department, an old friend of mine, and lie gave me an order to the Inspector of Police, and thus access was granted me. And now my dear fellow, you need not tell me this accusation is perfectly false, for I know you to be utterly incapable of committing so foul a crime ; I told the Inspector so, but he only shrugged his shoulders, and said the circumstantial evidence appeared incontrovertible. There is no doubt about your innocence, but how is it to be proved? That is the difficulty. What can we do to put down this frightful scandal as soon and as completely as possible, and vindi- cate your good name? " Father Montmoulin thanked his old friend for his kind sympathy, and said he really did not know what could be done for him. He told the whole story of what had taken place, entirely omitting, however, the fact that Loser had been to confession to him. After he had counted up all the evidence against himself, and dwelt upon its gravity, he wound up by saying: "God, the omniscient and omnipotent, knows that I am innocent, I take Him to witness ! But how to prove my innocence in the sight of man, is another matter. I shall not be the first man who has been unjustly condemned." Father Regent's countenance had grown very grave, as he listened to the prisoner's, narrative. He remained silent for some minutes; then he said : "The difficulties seem more insuperable than I at first imagined. I thought the whole affair was cooked up by our enemies, to make a point at the elections, because the Liberal papers made use directly of the fatal occurrence in support of their A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 163

views." After a pause he continued: "It is a good thing the lady who was murdered was not young, or another construction might have been put upon the deed. I must say I think you were very unwise to let the old lady come to you when

you were alone, if you were going to hand over that sum of money to her you might have told ; her to bring another member of the committee with her, or at least you need not have sent the old servant away. I know what you will answer : who

would have dreamed of such a thing happening ; I do not mean to reproach you, but one must observe ordinary prudence. What we have to do now, is to prove that you are not guilty. There must have been some one else on the premises, who had got in without your knowledge, and who committed " the murder ; who can it have been ? "The magistrate averred that it could not possibly have been a stranger, for how could he have known that Mrs. Blanchard would pass by the lumber-room with the money at that particular time, and laid in wait for her," Father Montmoulin answered dejectedly. "There was the sacristan; has it been actually proved that he was absent that day ?" "So I am told." "That must be looked into. Or perhaps the maidservant talked about Mrs. Blanchard going for the money, and it got to the ears of some rogue, who slipped into the Convent after her. Take courage, all must be thoroughly investigated. I

will go at once to the Vicar-General and if neces-

sary, to the Archbishop ; Counsel must be retained for the defence." '

164 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

"I have no money to pay for his services." "Do not trouble yourself on that score, we shall see about that. Your disgrace is reflected upon us. ' "I am afraid it will all be of no use," Father Montmoulin replied despondently. "But I am none the less grateful to you for your kindness. I beg you will assure his Grace the Archbishop, the Vicar-General and all my fellow-priests of my innocence, and tell them how deeply it grieves me that I should be the occasion of bringing this

trouble upon them. One thing more ; do what you can for my poor mother, my sister, and her children, if they suffer on my account." "Certainly I will see what can be done for them. Do not lose heart, my dear friend. In your affliction think of our Lord, innocence itself, who for our sins was counted amongst the ungodly. You have now to carry the cross as He did!" "The cross is a heavy one. Pray for me, and ask the prayers of others, that I may not fall beneath its weight," replied the prisoner, as his visitor rose to take leave. He then begged him to hear his confession, which Father Regent did very willingly. What an alleviation it would have been to the unhappy Priest if he could have at least in confession told everything to his experienced Spiritual Father, and asked him for counsel. But not even sub sigillo was he free to mention a circumstance or ask a question which could indirectly reveal what Loser had said in confession. His lips were sealed; he was obliged to bear the whole burden alone. The warder now came to intimate that it was A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 165

time for the visitor to withdraw. At the same time he laid the breviary on the table and took the prisoner's letters. The Director of the Seminary accordingly bade his former pupil farewell, after again exhorting him to keep up his courage. His visit had given much consolation to the unfortunate Priest, who on being left alone, took up the Brevi- ary, and turned to the office for St. John Nepo- mucen's day. "Saintly martyr! Thou wast drowned in the waters of the Moldau because thou wast faithful to thy duty as a Priest. Obtain for me the grace to give up my life, or submit to any ignominy rather than violate the sacred obligations binding on me." Thus the prisoner invoked the aid of the great Saint of Prague, and strengthened himself in his determination by reading the account of the martyrdom undergone by that holy bishop.

\ CHAPTER XIV.

In the Rue de la Colombe.

When Mrs. Montmoulin, who had been carried out of the marketplace into a neighbouring house, recovered consciousness, she was almost beside herself with grief. Some compassionate persons tried to comfort her, others contented themselves with staring at her ; to all attempts at consolation she could only reply: "My son handcuffed! in custody of the Police! and he a Priest! " And she covered her face with her wrinkled hands in shame and sorrow, while her grand daughter stood by sobbing j)iteously. "Poor woman!" said one neighbour; "they are honest folk too ; never a word has been said against them hitherto." "She must have brought up her son rather strangely, if he could commit such a foul crime," said another.

"You are right there," a third remarked ; "like father, like child." "Now do be a little more charitable in your judgment," replied the first speaker; "remember nothing is proved against the man yet."-

"It is, take my word for it, otherwise they would not have put the handcuffs on his wrists." "She doesn't seem to feel it so very much, after all," said another. "She does not even cry, the child has far more feeling." (166) A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 167

"Well, if my boy did a thing like that, I think I should throw myself into the river!" "Come grandmother, let us go home," said the girl, trying to rouse the old lady, who seemed quite prostrated by the blow she had received. In fact, when she made an attempt to stand up, she fell back on to her chair helplessly and hopelessly. A cab now stopped at the door, and a policeman who had been standing outside all the time, entered the house, saying: "She does not seem well able to walk, so I have got a conveyance for her." "It really is not necessary. She lives only a few steps off, in the next street," was the answer. "We know that. But she is not going home just yet, the Superintendent of Police has a few

' questions to put to her first, ' the man replied

"Oh, she is to be arrested ! she is an accomplice in her son's crime!" the bystanders ejaculated, as they fell back in consternation. When Mrs. Montmoulin understood what was going on, fresh energy seemed to come into her. "If my son is said to be guilty, no wonder that people should have a poor opinion of me," she said. "Are you going to handcuff me too?" "That will not be necessary at present," the constable replied, as he assisted the old lady to get into the cab. Turning to Julia, who hung on to her dress, she said: "Go home, child, and tell your mother either I shall soon be be back, or she will have to come to me in prison. Who knows but they will end by taking you and poor little Charles up too." So saying Mrs. Montmoulin entered the cab, the policeman took his seat oppo- 168 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

site to her, closed the door and they drove off. The child stood crying and looking after the vehicle, until one of the neighbours took her by the hand and led her home. Eound the door of the house a goodly number of people had assembled, curious to see what would happen next. For to the surprise of the whole street the Commissioner of Police had gone into the house, leaving two of his men outside. Tidings of the whole affair soon got abroad, and almost all were inclined to believe the worst, only a few said

it could not be true. "There is a nice story for you! The Priests can take that as the text for their sermons! " exclaimed one of the lowest of the people. "And the old woman there who goes every morning to Mass and prays to the saints, is said to have hidden away the money, four thousand pounds." "Four thousand pounds! Nay, that would tempt many a poor man. But how badly they managed

' it, to be caught redhanded, ' said an old soldier. "No doubt they thought no one would dream of accusing a Priest of such an act, and traded upon that," observed another. "And, you see, they will do nothing to him, whereas one of us poor devils would have had to put our necks under the knife for it!" "So he will have to, as sure as I stand here!" the other rejoined. "This is a free country, and justice will be done, were he ten times a Priest." "Look, here comes the old lady's granddaughter," exclaimed a kindhearted neighbour. "What is to become of those children if first their grandmother and then their mother is put into prison!" ' '

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 169

"They must go to the almshouse, or they will be placed iu au orphanage like my children," said another of the bystanders. "They are better off there than here." "Let the child pass," the former speaker rejoined. "Don't you fret, Julia, if they take your mother away, you and Charles shall come to my place. One or two more do not make much differ- ence." The child, passing through the little shop, where children's underclothing, besides knitted jerseys, vests and stockings were exposed for sale, was about to enter the small parlour behind, where her mother was usually at work at a sewing or a knitting-machine, a pane of glass in the door enab- ling her to see when she was wanted in the shop. But instead of her mother, Julia found to her terror, an agent of police seated in the shop, who stopped her and asked her if she were Mrs. Montmoulin's granddaughter ! "Yes, sir, but my mother's name is Jardinier. Please let me pass, I have something to tell my mother." "Wait a moment. So you are Miss Jardinier, and the clergyman at Ste. Victoire is your uncle?" "Yes, sir, and the bad people say he has done something very dreadful, and they have taken him to prison, and poor grandmother too. And it is all

' ! a lie ; my uncle is a Priest, and a very holy man "No doubt it is all a lie, I think so too. I dare

' say he often gave you nice presents ! "Yes, he gave me a prayerbook and a number of beautiful pictures with gold and lace edges." "There now, see what a kind uncle you have. ' ' ;

170 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

Did lie not give your grandmother any money yesterday ? ' "Yes, grandmother brought a lot of money home yesterday that she had got from Uncle. A good pious lady gave it to him ; we all said our beads for her last night." "Look there now, what pious people you all are! Cannot you tell me how much money your

' grandmother brought home yesterday % "I do not know how much, but it was a great deal. Grandmother said she had not had so much in the house for twenty years."

"Bless me! And what did she do with it all?" "She went in the afternoon to old Mr. Levy and paid him what she owed him. I do not know what else she did with it." The constable had learnt enough from the un- thinking child to confirm the suspicions of the magistrate. Taking out a pencil, he wrote on a slip of paper the words: "I have got everything out of the child;" then he said: "Well you are a very intelligent little girl. There is somebody in there with your mother, but we will see if you can go to her. He then knocked at the door of the parlour his superior officer opened it, and he handed him the slip of paper. The detective glanced at it, and said : "One moment. I shall have done directly." So saying he made a sign to the constable to come in, closed the door, and addressing the mother of the children, who sat opposite to him, pale but composed, he said : "It is no use denying facts any longer, my good woman. Your little girl has told us everything." A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 171

"What has she told you ?" inquired Mrs. Jar- dinier. The police-agent then repeated all that the child had divulged. His superior instantly ordered him to go to the Jew Levy, to see if the statement could be substantiated. At the same time he told the woman she must come with him. "Indeed, it is a misunderstanding," she cried. "For God's sake do not put me to the disgrace of being arrested ! The sum in question was nothing like as large as you imagine. Mother brought at most about twenty pounds with her, and it is quit^ true that for years we had not had so much in the house." "Why did you not mention this to me, while I was questioning you about it W- "You asked me if my mother did not bring a large sum of money back with her when she came home yesterday, and I answered what was quite true, that in the handbag you spoke of there was nothing but my brother's linen, which wanted repairing. In fact I do not know why I should be called to account in this manner at all," she added indignantly, "we are honest people and have never defrauded any one of a penny." "Pray do not excite yourself," rejoined her interrogator. "I never accused you of theft. But Mrs. Blanchard's money must have been disposed of somehow, and your mother is under suspicion of having brought it here from Ste. Yictoire.." "Mrs. Blanchard's money!" cried the woman aghast. "True, it was from a Mrs. Blanchard that my brother received the twenty-pound note ; it was a present from her, Mother said." ' "

172 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

k 'Hear that! a present of twenty pounds! Only yesterday, the very day Mrs. Blanchard was murdered in the Presbytery at Ste. Vietoire." "Murdered in the Presbytery ! " cried Mrs. Jar- dinier, springing to her feet. "By whom? My God, what a calamity!" "By whom? Do you mean to say you do not know by whom ? 7 "Merciful Heavens! It cannot be that my brother is suspected— "You have soon hit upon the right person," answered the detective, coldly regarding the unhappy woman, who wrung her hands in grief and horror. As soon as the first outburst of sorrow was over, and she had resumed her seat, her tears

still flowing, he continued : "Now my good lady, I quite believe there was no complicity on your part in this deed, and that you did not even know how your mother had come by the money she brought from Ste. Vietoire yesterday. But I require you to inform me at once what has become of the remainder of the sum. If you do this, I will not be hard on you ; if you do not, I shall be obliged to have you taken to the Police station. I give you two minutes for reflection." "I want no time for reflection," sobbed the poor woman. "It is all a terrible mistake! The mere idea that my brother could be guilty of such a crime, and that my mother would lend herself to such deceit, is outrageous ! No one who knew them would ever believe it of them." "I shall only be too glad, if you and your relatives succeed in clearing yourselves. Meanwhile A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 173

I regret to say that I am compelled to take you into custody." " Whatever will become of my poor children?" "Have you no relatives who would take them in for a time 1 No ! Then the parish must provide for them. Do not be anxious on that score, the children will do well enough for a few days. I will look after them. And now I am sure you will come with me quietly, without making any resistance." He then opened the door and called the little girl in. "Now," he said, "kiss your mother, and stop quietly at home like a good child, till I come back. Your mother is coming a little way with me, she will not be gone very long." Mrs. Jardinier made an effort to command herself. "Yes Julia, mind you are a good girl till I come back. Where have you left your grandmother, and where is the market basket?" "It was not my fault, Mother," she said. Then she told in a few sentences what had occurred on the market place, how the police had driven off with her grandmother in a cab, and how in consequence her basket was lost. "Never mind dear, we shall find it again. Now do not cry, this gentleman is going to take me to grandmother and I hope Ave shall soon come back.

No, you must not come too ; when Charles comes home, get the dinner ready for him, and do not forget to say grace as you always do." Then she kissed the child, and turned quickly to the door, to hide the tears that started to her eyes. "I am ready now," she said to the Police agent, on whom what she had said, and her whole 174 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. manner had had not failed to make a good impression. Before the child realized what was happening, her mother was gone. She wanted to run after her, but the man who was still pacing up and down before the door, would not let her, and looking through the shop-window, she could just see her mother and the Police agent disappear round the corner of the street. At that moment a sound from the kitchen warned her that the soup was beginning to boil over, so wiping away her tears, she hastened thither, just in time to prevent the catastrophe. A few minutes later Charles came back from school. The house door, from which the crowd of curious on-lookers had gradually dispersed, stood open, and when the boy entered the shop, to his astonishment he found there two police agents who were opening drawers, ransacking cupboards and empty- ing shelves, and reducing every place to a dire state of confusion. "Hello!" exclaimed the boy, "what are you up to ? Mother will be nice and angry when she sees what you are doing. She is awfully strict about keeping her place in order ; she rows Julia and me if we do but put a hank of wool out of its place." "Are you Mrs. Jardinier's son?" inquired one of the agents. "I dare say you can help us. Do you know where the travelling bag is that your grandmother brought home with her yesterday?"

"Uncle's bag do you mean f It is hanging up in the passage; Grandmother mended it last night." "Were you by when she unpacked it?" "No, she unpacked it in her own room, I carried it upstairs for her." A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 175

"It was heavy, was it not?"

"Pretty well, I could carry it easily." "Was there not a good deal of money in it? 7 ' "In the bag? I do not know. Grandmother said it was Uncle's linen. But she did bring home

a lot of money that Uncle gave her ; he had it from a kind old lady. We were to pray for her." " Where did she put the money? If you can tell me that, I will give you sixpence." Before the lad could reply, the door of the parlour opened and Julia called to her brother: "Don't stand talking to those people, Charles! They want to question everything out of us. They asked me ever so many questions, then they took

Mother away. But what a mess you are in ! Your sleeve is all over mud and there is a button torn off your jacket. Come here and let me brush you you ; must have been fighting with your schoolfellows." So saying, Julia drew her brother into the inner room, and shut the door. Then she went on, lower- ing her voice : "Oh Charles, whatever is to become of us! They have takenUncle away to prison, and they say he has committed some dreadful crime, and they have carried off Grandmother and Mother too, I think they have put them in prison as well, though Mother said she was only going a little way and would be back soon. I believe she only said it that I might not be vexed, else she would not have given me the key of the cupboard." Charles looked very much disconcerted, and while his sister was brushing the mud off his jacket, he said: "As I was coming home two of the boys called after me that Uncle Francis had '

176 a victim: to the seal of confession. stabbed a lady, and said I was the murderer's nephew, and everybody looked at me. But it is all a lie, is it not? Uncle would never do such a wicked thing."

"Of course it is all untrue," his sister replied.

"Of course ; so I said, and I told the boys they were liars. Then one of them boxed my ears, but I got hold of him, and punched him hard, only the other came up, and it was he who tore the button off my coat. Please sew another on for me, there are two in Mother's work basket. I wish I could pay that fellow out, some time ! ' "Poor Uncle," said Julia, beginning to cry

afresh. "I saw him ; look, they had fastened his hands together like this, and his cassock was all muddy, and he was sitting in a cart beside a policeman. The people said he would be executed." "No, Julia, I do not think so; don't cry. I remember reading a story about a miller, it was called 'Martin the innocent.' He was put in prison because he was accused of murder, and was going to be hanged, although he was quite innocent, but his children went on a pilgrimage and prayed for him, and his innocence was made clear. And he was let out of prison and had all sorts of honours paid him, and the judge who had condemned him wrongly gave him a present. Depend upon it, it will be just the same with Uncle, he will be proved innocent and go back to Ste. Victoire with great honour. Nobody shall dare to call me a murderer's nephew again." "How was the miller's innocence proved?" asked Julia. '

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 177

"If I only could remember! Stop, now I know. Somebody went to the judge and swore a great oath that the miller was not guilty. That is what

I will do ; for I am perfectly certain that Uncle is innocent.' 7 This set the children's minds at rest. Julia laid the table and served the soup, and she and her brother ate their meal with a good appetite. Only Charles complained that Julia cut the meat too thin, and this gave rise to one of the slight skirmishes, which were almost of daily occurrence between the brother and sister. But Julia deftly changed the conversation, and turned the boy's attention in another direction, by telling him how she had heard the Police agent, and the people in the street say that she and Charles would probably have to go to the workhouse. At this unexpected intelligence the little fellow let his knife and fork fall, and exclaimed : "What? we go to the workhouse % Never, never ! '

"But if they take us there by force, what can we do % " objected his sister. "I will run away. I know what I will do; I will go to Marseilles and be cabin boy on a great ship that is going out to sea. And when we get to the island where there are savages and missionaries, I will leave the vessel and be a missioner." "You know you are a great deal too young for that. Besides, even you could get employment on board a ship, what is to become of me!" '*You could go to a convent," answered the boy in a very decided manner. A pause ensued, during which he again applied himself to the contents of 178 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION-. his plate. When he had finished, he communicated the result of his reflections to his sister. "Look here, Julia," he said, "had we not better run away at once, before anyone proposes that we should go to the workhouse?" Julia negatived this proposal, saying they must wait to see whether their mother came home. Then Charles thought of another alternative: he would go to his friend the baker, tell him what trouble they were in, and ask him for some money for their journey. This was no sooner said than done, As soon as they had returned thanks, the boy took his cap and ran off to the kind -hearted baker, whom he found ensconced in a comfortable arm-chair, smoking his pipe with a cup of coffee by his side. His wife, a good-natured little woman, sat opposite to him ; of course the event of the day had been duly discussed between them, and both husband and wife were equally of opinion that the Priest was innocent of the crime laid to his charge. The only point on which they were not agreed, was whether the Police authorities acted in good faith in arresting the clergyman and treating him as a criminal, or whether the whole affair was not a move on the part of the anti-clerical party, as the woman, who could think no good of her political adversaries, firmly maintained. They were eager to hear all that the boy, who was a favourite with both of them, had to tell, and listened to his story with much interest. Mr. Lenoir had not heard of the children's grandmother and mother being arrested, and he in- ' —

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 179 quired all particulars. He shook his head gravely when the hoy spoke of the "lot of money" his grandmother had brought home with her, and a shade of suspicion as to the Priest's innocence for the first time crossed his mind. However the worthy man took care to conceal his misgivings, for his wife would certainly have scolded him soundly had she known of them. As it was, on hearing that the two women, whom she considered to be god-fearing and upright persons, were taken into custody, she burst out into loud invectives against the police. And when Charles confided to her his apprehension in regard to the workhouse, she exclaimed: "No indeed, they shall not take you there and perhaps make you lose your religion. Nothing of the sort. Andrew, let us take the children to be with us, and I will be a mother to them, as long as the authorities—(worse luck to them) who let rogues go free and put honest folks into prison — keep the mother in detention. Put on your hat at once and give notice that we will take charge of the poor children ; God has not blessed us with a family of our own, and we want for nothing, let us at least prevent them from being- corrupted in the workhouse. You will consent,

' will you not f The same idea struck Mr. Lenoir, at least in regard to his little friend Charles, so when his good wife made the suggestion, and at the close went through the formality of asking whether he was of the same mind as herself, he goodnaturedly intimated his assent, adding, "that is if the children like to come." 180 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

Now Charles, young as lie was, had the sense to see how much more desirable the proposal of the kind baker's wife was than the adventurous project he had formed for himself; he therefore

hastened to accept it ; and after partaking of a cup of coffee and a spongecake, he set off in high glee to fetch his sister. Mr. Lenoir also got up from his armchair and repaired, attired in his best coat and hat, to the Police station. The Superintendent was very willing to give the children into his charge; but he considered it his duty to inform Mr. Lenoir that not only did the Priest lay under the heaviest suspicion, on account of the strong circumstantial evidence against him, but his mother and sister were proved to have been receivers of the stolen property. "I tell you this," he concluded, a in case you may not wish to be mixed up with people of this class." The worthy baker did in fact feel almost inclined to revoke his decision ; but he said to himself, the children had done no wrong, and nobody could blame him for an act of charity. So he kept to his determination, and that same evening both the children were received under his hospitable roof. CHAPTEE XV.

Consultations.

Four weeks bad elapsed since the events related in the preceding chapter took place, four long weary weeks for Father Montmoulin in his prison cell, and for his mother and sister, who were also kept in solitary confinement. They had been brought up for examination almost daily, but nothing of any importance for the prosecution had been elicited from them.* The Priest reiterated continually his protestations of innocence. "I cannot do otherwise than acknowledge," he said, "how strongly circumstances tell against me; but the deed was done by another, and who that other was I am unable to say." The two women also gave the same account of the ''large sum of money" of which the children had spoken, saying it consisted exclusively of the twenty pounds which Mrs. Mont- moulin had received from her son. But even thus the matter looked suspicious, and the prisoner was subjected to severe cross-examination about the alleged gift. He kept to his original assertion,

* The entire exemption from interrogation enjoyed by the prisoner awaiting trial in England is in striking contrast to the constant cross-examination and brow-beating by the judge to which he is subjected in France. In many respects the french criminal law differs from the

^english ; for instance, in France, the jury in a criminal case find their verdict by a majority, without unanimity of the jurors. (181) 182 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. that Mrs. Blanchard, knowing his pecuniary difficulties, had of her free will presented him with the nionev, to enable him to furnish his rooms more comfortably and take his mother to live with him. The examining magistrate who had convinced himself that the Priest was guilty when he made the first judicial inquiry at Ste. Victoire, and who had never since swerved from his opinion, persisted that the whole story was fictitious, and that the twenty pounds were part of the stolen property.

But what had become of the remainder % The most thorough search of the convent at Ste. Yictoire had failed to throw any light on the subject. Mr. Bar- thelot was inclined to consider this corroborated his view, which was that the Priest's old mother had taken the whole sum with her to Aix. Nothing that was the least suspicious had been found in the house she occupied, though it had been rigorously searched under Mr. Barthelot's own supervision. The twenty pounds had, it is true, not been entered in the ledger containing the account of the daily receipts and expenditure, carefully as it was otherwise kept ; but this Mrs. Jardinier explained by saying she considered that as her mother's private property, and the remainder would be found in her possession. So it proved, for the change given her by the money-lender was discovered in the desk where she had placed it. The money-lender himself, who was at first suspected of being an accomplice in the receipt of stolen property, declared that Mrs. Montmotilin only paid an outstanding debt, that she had brought a bank-note for twenty pounds, from which he took; the sum owing him, giving her the change i$ gold and silver. :

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 187 moment's silence he said: "Is it necessary that for my own defence suspicion should be cast on one of whose guilt or innocence we know nothing ? Is it in fact permissible 1 Let us confine ourselves to our own justification, without endeavouring to incriminate a third person." "I have no intention of bringing an accusation against this sacristan . You are right in saying it is not the business of an advocate to do so, but of the Public Prosecutor. Yet it is my duty to show, if I possibly can, that there is someone else on whom the guilt may rest. And you are bound to uphold me in this assertion to the utmost ; for it is not only your own good name and your life which are at stake, but the credit of your class and the welfare of the Church, are involved in this affair. To be open with you, I must acknowledge that you have several times made on me the impression that there is something more which you could tell me regarding this sacristan. Whenever I begin to speak of him, you appear embarrassed, and break off short, as if you had something to conceal. Perfect frankness and complete confidence on the part of the client towards his Counsel is the first requisite for a successful defence. I must beg you then, if you have any grounds for conjecture that the sacristan, or any other individual acquainted with the place and the circumstances, was in the house at the time of the murder, tell it to me. Everyone must perceive how valuable this would be to us." Father Montmoulin, who had recovered his composure, merely shook his head in reply, saying 188 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

"I can only repeat, what I said to the Mayor that night in my first cross-examination. I will not, and I feel that I ought not to, say anything* which will cause any one person in particular to be suspected . If by no other means can I escape a sentence of death, it must be as God wills. It must be left to His good pleasure to make amends for the scandal in His own time and way. As far as I am concerned, I beg that no postponement be applied for. Holy "Week is the time of all others that I should have chosen. But if my ecclesiastical superiors think otherwise, and consider further delay to be desirable, I am willing to endure the torture of these endless examinations and this wearisome confinement for some time longer. Con- sult my kind old friend, Father Begent; he will tell you what the Archbishop wishes, and that will decide the question." The solicitor rose to depart, and as he shook hands with the prisoner he said: "I quite understand why you think Holy Week so suitable a time for your trial. You are thinking of our Lord who stood in His innocence before the judge, and was unjustly condemned. But I hope at any rate, that the latter part of the comparison will not hold good in your case ; it shall not if our efforts will avail to prevent it. Once more, courage and confidence, and pray that a blessing may attend our exertions on your behalf." On the evening of the next day, whilst the Counsel for the defence was busily engaged in a close study of the case he had taken in hand, and was making notes of the questions he proposed to A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 189 put to the witnesses, a servant informed him that Father Eegent and another Priest were waiting to see him. He immediately laid down his pen, and went in person to receive his visitors and respectfully conduct them into his private room, where he installed them in two comfortable arm-chairs. Then taking a seat at the table, he informed them at some length how matters stood in regard to Father Montmoulin's case, finally coming to the point at issue. "I took the liberty, Eeverend Sirs," he said, "of troubling you to come round this evening, to discuss the question about which I wrote to you yesterday, whether or no it was advisable to ask for a postponement of the trial. Our unfortunate friend, of whose innocence there can of course be no doubt, does not wish it, but he expresses his readiness to yield to the opinion of his superiors. I confess, I am most anxious to trace this sacristan and subpoena him, but this requires both time and money. The sum which your Reverence placed to our credit is already exhausted, in fact overdrawn, I believe, and as yet no clue to his whereabouts has been obtained." A short pause ensued. The stranger, a grave, rather stern-looking man, whom the Archbishop had empowered to act in this affair, first broke the silence. "Are we to understand that you have but little hope of clearing the character of this unhappy Priest, who has caused so much grief and anxiety to the Archbishop, unless you can manage to un- earth this sacristan % ? ' "I hope that we may succeed in doing so, but we must have something more definite than hope to '

190 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. trust to. So much depends on whether the feeling of the jury is hostile or favourable to us, and it must be acknowledged that in the first place cir-

cumstantial evidence is very strong against us ; and secondly, we have a very formidable antagonist in the person of the Public Prosecutor." 11 That is rather a bad outlook. But what use would this sacristan be to us ? As far as I have heard, all your researches have only confirmed the fact of his absence at the time of the murder."

"There appears, it is true, every reason to believe that the man took a ticket for Marseilles the evening before. But did he make use of that ticket % And where did he put up at Marseilles on that eventful 20th February'? These and many other questions he will have to answer, and be confronted with the witnesses. And if he failed to give an account of himself on one point, he could not succeed in proving an alibi. In fact it would be evidence against him, for why should he make such a fuss, and publish to everyone that he was going on a journey, if not as a blind, to avert suspicion from himself. If I can only prove that this sacristan, or some other person acquainted with the circumstances and familiar with the premises, may have been concealed in the house, we may count on Father Montmoulin's acquittal as certain . '

UI think our learned friend is quite right there," observed Father Regent gently, his eyes resting on the Archiepiscopal delegate, who sat toying with his snuffbox, whilst pondering upon what the solicitor had said. Seeing a reply was expected from A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 191

him, he rejoined: "Of course, it is much to be desired that this man should be forthcoming. But how do you propose to accomplish this V "The first thing is to find out where he is. Happily we have a photograph of him, and he is easily recognized on account of a cicatrix across his face. He was seen in the company of a party of sailors in Marseilles, and it is presumable that he embarked on board one of the vessels that left the harbour between the 22nd and the 26th of February. I have a list of the vessels, happily they are not very numerous. We ought to send a description by telegraph to the police at the ports for which each

of them was bound, and inquire if anyone answer-

ing to the description had landed there, and if so, have him kept under surveillance. And if an affirmative answer were returned from either of the places, it would be necessary to send out an agent, to collect information on the spot. In a word, as I said before, both time and money would be required." The stranger from the palace took a pinch of snuff; then he asked: "Supposing your agent actually found this wretched sacristan, say in New York or Eio de Janeiro, would he be able to com- pel him to return and appear as a witness? One can hardly imagine that he would come without compulsion, if your surmise is correct, and he was the real perpetrator of the crime."

"He could not oblige him to appear, but it is probable that a man who understood his business could contrive to get something out of him when he was off his guard which would warrant him in 192 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

arresting him on suspicion, and that we, or rather the Government, when the evidence was submitted to the proper authorities, would demand his extra- dition. I freely admit that all the trouble and outlay might be in vain, but at any rate we should have the satisfaction of knowing that we have done everything within our power to avert an unjust sentence and prevent a terrible scandal." "Would it not be as well for us to confer with the Archbishop on the subject, and acquaint him with this gentleman's proposal 1?" Father Eegent said to his companion. "What do you think would be about the amount required for these researches, which, as you yourself say, might very possibly be futile T" inquired the official, without paying the least heed to the remark addressed to him. "It would be difficult, more than difficult, impossible to name any figure beforehand. All depends upon how and where we come upon some trace of the man. Twenty or thirty pounds might be enough, or we might want three or four hundred. Good detectives must be well paid, then there are travelling expenses and the like. Besides we might have to offer a reward for the man's apprehension." "Three or four hundred! And all on a bare chance. No, I should not feel warranted in advis- ing his Grace to go to such an expense. You know, Father Kegent, how many claims there are on the funds at his disposal, poor convents, orphan- ages, missions, not to mention the re-building of the seminary. It is out of the question ; our means will not allow of it." A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 193

" Another collection might perhaps be made amongst the clergy," Father Eegent suggested somewhat timidly. The official shrugged his shoulders. "The first brought in very little," he said. "The clergy are as a rule very poor, their salary is small, and a part of their scanty pittance goes of necessity to the destitute. But cannot we make the Government find and produce this witness—whom you think to be indispensable— at the public expense ?" "Yes, I certainly might make the demand, but I am sorely afraid the Prosecutor would put a spoke in my wheel. In order to do this, he will himself prove an alibi for the sacristan, thus placing me, I fear, in an awkward and unpleasant position. If we could undertake to make all en- quiries on our own account, I could easily apply for a prolongation of time, on the plea that the interval was too short to allow me to prepare the defence, and we should thus gain some months, until the next Assizes. The Easter recess com- mences on Holy Thursday. But I see Sirs, that you do not feel disposed to stake so large a sum on an uncertainty, and it is not for me to say that you are to blame for it. So it is no use discussing the subject any more. Can you spare me a few minutes longer % You see the accused—I am speaking to you in confidence, and only for the purpose of asking your counsel — Father Montmoulin has several times, in fact as often as I have mentioned this unlucky sacristan to him, betrayed a strange embarrassment which he attempted in vain to conceal, and appeared intentionally to avoid saying '

194 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

anything definite about him. Now it occurred to me that his lips might be sealed by some profes- sional obligation, the secrecy of the confessional, for instance." "That is most improbable," said the Archbis- hop' s envoy. i

the crime to Father Montmoulin ; doubtless, the latter would, under no circumstances be justified in disclosing what had been told him in confession— ' "Under no circumstances whatsoever!" both the priests exclaimed with one breath. "But would it not be permissible for him at least to say that Loser had been to confession to him 1?" "By no means," answered Father Regent emphatically; "Under the present circumstances it would be violation of the seal of confession." "An indirect violation, at any rate," interposed the official. A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 195

"That I can understand," the solicitor continued. "But surely he might go so far as to say

' that he saw Loser on the day of the murder % '. Neither of the two priests answered immediately. Then the official said that he hardly thought that the fact of seeing him came under the seal of silence. "If the man came to the Priest for no other object than that of confession, I can readily imagine that he feels himself bound to keep silence on that point, for fear of revealing too much," Father Eegent remarked. "To tell the truth, the same idea suggested itself to me, but in a somewhat different form. I thought it might be possible that the murderer, fearful that Father Montmoulin might point him out as the probable criminal, thought to close his lips by means of a pretended confession. The fact that the good Priest only the day before, iDreached, as I am told, on the stringent nature of the seal of confession, first put the idea into my mind." "A false confession is no confession at all, and therefore cannot bind to secrecy," objected the official.

"True, if one can be quite certain that the penitent has the intention to deceive. But as long as the confessor only thinks that this is probable, he is obliged to consider the confession as valid, and consequently he is bound to secrecy. A confession of such a character would in any case cause much perplexity to a priest, and I can quite conceive that a man like Montmoulin, who is inclined to be somewhat scrupulous, would rather make the most \ t i 196 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. heroic sacrifices, than infringe in the slightest degree upon the sacred obligation of secrecy. Per- haps, moreover, he promised the man not to let it be known that he went to confession." "X can see the justice of what yon say," Meu- nier replied. "But the practical point for us, on which I wanted your opinion, is this : Cannot this surmise be made use of in Court % May I not point this out to the jury as a probable explanation of the mystery 1 At any rate, it would serve to nullify the effect of the Prosecutor's evidence. Perhaps your Eeverence may have met with instances before now in which priests were condemned unjustly in consequence of their inability to reveal the secrets confessed to them in the confessional?" "Such instances have certainly occurred and that comparatively recently. Not long ago there was an account in the papers of a priest in Poland, who was sentenced wrongfully and exiled to Siberia on account of a murder which one of his servants, a gardener I fancy—the case is singularly like our own —committed and subsequently confessed on his deathbed. We must try to obtain an official report of it." The solicitor caught at this idea eagerly. "Capital!" he exclaimed. "I shall have this looked up in the Univers, which is sure to have given a full report of it, and if possible, a report of the legal proceedings must be obtained from Eussia. The case of this Polish victim to the seal of confession will strengthen our cause immensely, if brought forward in Court. Do you not think so,

Father Regent ? You shake your head doubtfully." A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 197

"To speak plainly, I do not quite like the notion of this subject being dragged into the law- courts. You are aware how greatly unbelief has spread of late amongst the educated class in this country. One dreads seeing anything so sacred handled by the profane. Besides I fear lest we should place our poor friend Montmoulin in a very

perplexing situation. . Is there not every reason to expect that the Judge or the Prosecutor will put this question directly to him : Has the seal of the confessional anything to do with this case 1 And he would probably feel himself obliged to say it had not, for fear of in any way endangering the secret." "This question might be forestalled, by object- ing to it beforehand, as one which the obligations of his sacred calling did not allow the prisoner to answer. We must depict very forcibly the embar- rassing position in which the vow of secrecy places the Priest, and the immense sacrifices it may demand of him under certain circumstances. I do not doubt that a favourable impression will be made upon the jury, and it is that with which we have to deal. And as for any profane remarks about confession, I do not see that they are to be apprehended, the Judge would silence them. There is too much good feeling on the Bench to permit religion to be openly insulted in Court." "I fully agree with our learned friend," said the ecclesiastic from the palace. "I believe that the possibility of the seal of confession closing the lips of the prisoner will impress the jury very favourably, and influence public opinion in our behalf, although I confess it does not clear up all 198 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. difficulties to my mind. However it is always well to bring into prominence the solemn obligations which the confessional lays upon the priest. And I hope the Polish story may produce a good effect. If it is possible to prevent direct questions being put to the prisoner, I see no reason why the supposition should not be brought forward in the defence." "You are right," responded Father Regent. "I gladly yield to your better judgment. We take leave of you Mr. Meunier, with a good hope that your skill will avail in rescuing the innocent and preserving the honour of our clergy. You may rely on our prayers and holy sacrifices to assist you." uThank you, Father, I never had more need of them in conducting a case. When I think what is at stake, and how weak our defence is, I am almost inclined to despond. But I say to myself as I do to the prisoner: Courage and confidence!" The two clergymen shook hands with the solicitor and departed. As they were descending the stairs, Father Regent's companion said to him: "I am afraid there is little chance for us; the Counsel seems obliged to buoy himself up with false hopes." "I trust it will come right in the end. It is God's concern, after all, and He will in some way or other make all turn out for the best," was Father Regent's rejoinder. CHAPTER XVI.

A pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Mary Magdalen.

Passion-week was drawing to a close, and the day appointed for the trial was approaching. The Montmoulin case was the talk of all Aix, and the town was divided into two hostile camps ; one party asserting loudly that the prisoner was guilty of murder, and of which the principal partisans were to be found in the clubs and coffee-rooms, and among the writers for the Press ; whilst the other believed iu the innocence of the accused, prayed that he might win the day, and expressed their opinion more or less openly. In Mr. Lenoir's household Father Montmoulin had a staunch supporter in the person of the good wife, who defended him with a loyal heart and a glib tongue. Woe betide the neighbour, even the customer, who ventured within the precincts of the baker's shop to cast a doubt on the Priest's innocence! A broadside was immediately opened upon him. Mr. Lenoir himself was by no means as positive on the point at issue. Naturally in his wife's presence he was careful not to admit the possibility of a doubt, for the peace and comfort of his house was dear to him. Nor when the children whom he had taken in out of charity were by, did he allow a syllable to escape his lips to the effect that the result of the trial might not be what was expected;

(199) 200 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. he would not vex Charles, for he was fond of the boy. But to himself he said : "I cannot understand

how a Priest could do such a deed ; but the facts of the case which one reads and hears, seem all to be dead against him." The truth of the matter was, that since Lenoir had been summoned to appear as a witness, on account of his having driven Loser into Aix, on which occasion the wily sacristan had fascinated him by a recital of his exploits, he considered himself to be on the side of the prosecution, and spoke up boldly on behalf of his "friend" Loser, whom the adherents of Father Montmoulin regarded as the probable criminal. He had a little dispute with his wife on this subject, and made her very angry by venturing to say a word in favour of the rascal, as she denomin- ated him, who had not been to his Easter duty for years. "Mind," she cried resolutely, "that you do not utter a syllable in Court on behalf of that wretch, who you may be sure, was the one who stabbed the poor lady."

' '

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 201

about it. If I am called as a witness, it is my duty to appear in Court, and state the truth to the best of my knowledge." "Dear me, how unfortunate! Must you really

give evidence that will be damaging to the Priest 1 I could never sleep in peace another night if I had to own to myself that I had said anything which contributed to the unjust condemnation of an innocent person. That comes of so much talking and boasting! You must needs to tell everyone how you drove that miserable sacristan to the station, and how he had related to you all manner of wonderful achievements, every one his own invention, as sure as I stand here. And then people say, we women are the babblers ! ' At this juncture, when Mr. Lenoir was at a loss what answer to make, and consequently was in danger of losing his temper, for goodnatured as he was, he could at times be angry, master Charles entered the room with a downcast air. On his way back from school some one had called out after him that his uncle would be sentenced to death next Monday, and his mother and grandmother sent to the House of Correction. Both husband and wife sought to console the little fellow, and in doing so the conjugal differences were forgotten. "How could anyone be so cruel!" cried the good wife. "Never mind, Charles, all will go right. Tomorrow we will make the pilgrimage we have talked about so long, to Holy Cross, and pray to the blessed Mother of Dolours, whose feast is kept tomorrow. Andrew, you will drive us to the foot of the hill, will vou not T' ?

202 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

"You can have the pony and trap, and John shall drive you," replied the worthy baker, rejoic- ing to find peace was restored. "You know, my dear, I cannot possibly get away myself tomorrow."

J "May Julia come too ' asked Charles, already more than consoled by the prospect of the pilgrimage, which in his childish faith he believed would have the happiest results for his uncle.

"To be sure she may, you and she and I ; we will entreat the holy patron of Provence to intercede for your relatives." Early the next morning Mrs. Lenoir and the two children started on their way. It was a perfect day, almost like summer, such a day as we sometimes have in the end of May, although it was but the end of March, and the spring, that comes so early in the south, was nearly over. As yet the landscape was in all its fresh vernal beauty ; on all sides the eye rested, on dewy meadows, verdant foliage, well-cultivated gardens, smiling farms and homesteads lighted up by golden sunshine on the grassy hillsides, whilst over all stretched the deep blue canopy of heaven. The birds trilled as merrily their spring- tide lay as they did centuries ago, when the wandering troubadour wended his way by these same mountain paths to the proud Castle of Aix, where the Counts of Provence held high festival, and minstrel and minnesinger found a hearty welcome and a liberal guerdon. No thoughts of byegone times occupied the minds of our pilgrims, but the beauty of the day and the mirthful song of the birds had the effect of raising the spirits of the whole party. Only when A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 203 a turn in the road brought into view the distant Church and Convent of Ste. Victoire did the children's faces cloud over, and their eyes fill with tears. But the passing sadness was quickly dis- pelled, and when the hamlet of Croy Eouge was reached, they alighted at the Golden Lily Inn whose sign-board showed the ancient fleur-de-lys, in the cheeriest frame of mind. There they left pony- cart and driver, and after taking some refreshment, they began to climb the steep side of the mountain. The old forest at its foot was first passed through, one of the few forests in Provence which the axe of the woodman had mercifully spared. Then came the mountain itself, with its rocky wall, resembling grey granite, which appeared to rise almost perpendicularly from the plain below. On the north side, looking towards Aix and the heights of Ste. Victoire, at a giddy height in the wall of rock, is situated the holy cave, wherein tradition says, St. Mary Magdalen passed the last years of of her life in contemplation and extraordinary penance. Thousands of pilgrims have in the course of centuries visited this sanctuary, and found solace and succour in times of sorrow and distress. Thither Mrs. Lenoir and the two children were bound, as they followed the narrow zig-zag path that wound round the side of the mountain. For the good baker's wife the ascent proved no easy task. From time to time she was forced to stand

still, panting for breath, while the children scampered like chamois up the steep and stony path, and Tight glad she was when the narrow platform before the cave was reached, close to which stands 204 a victim: to the seal of confession. the tiny house, built against the rock, where the two Dominican monks who are in charge of the sanctuary have their dwelling place. Before entering the cave, Mrs. Lenoir sat down to rest awhile, and enjoy the view of the country, which lay stretched out before her like a vast pano- rama, shut in on the north-east by the peaks of the lesser Alps. At her feet far down below, was the forest, diminished by distance to the propor- tions of a small copse; to the west was a wide expanse of plains and hill-country, watered by the Arc and its tributaries, while more to the right, the rocky summits of Ste. Victoire were discernible, towering above the lesser hills. The eyes of our pilgrims naturally turned in that direction. UI can see the point where the cross of Provence must be," said Charles, u but I cannot see the cross itself, nor can I perceive the church and convent of Ste. Victoire." "Harms' camp hides the church and the village from our sight," replied Mrs. Lenoir, uand the distance is too great for you to see the cross. — Pray do not go so close to the railing, you might slip and fall down this giddy height! Come, let us go into the grotto, and pray fervently for your uncle and grandmother." They went accordingly into the sanctuary, and all three knelt down before the picture' representing the great penitent held aloft by angel's hands whilst raised in an ecstasy above the tops of the mountains. 1 'Look children, you see how the angels carried St. Mary Magdalen, our great patroness and pro- A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 205 tectress of Provence, liigli above the mountains, every day, that she might join in their prayers and praises," said Mrs. Lenoir. "Jfow you lay your petition before her, and commend it to her earnestly. For great is her power with our blessed Lord, beneath whose cross she stood, and who appeared to her and spoke lovingly to her after His Eesur- rection." Charles and Julia looked with feelings of wonder and awe at the old painting, dimly lighted by the flickering flame of two silver lamps, and kneeling before it, they addressed to the Saint, whose figure was shrouded in this mysterious twilight, their childish petitions on behalf of their unfortunate relatives. "Pray for us O kind Saint! Pray with the blessed Mother of God for Mother and Grandmother, that they may be let out of prison, and for poor

! ' Uncle that he may be proved innocent ' Then they recited Ave after Ave, until they were tired, and their eyes grew heavy. The tapers which Mrs. Lenoir had lighted on the stand beside the picture were not half burnt down, when she saw that the boy's curly head had sunk on his clasped hands and he was fast asleep. Julia noticing this, pulled her brother's sleeve, and whispered "For shame!" but very soon after she too was overcome by drowsiness, and leaning her head against the back of a chair, slumbered as soundly as he. Mrs. Lenoir did not rouse the sleepers until she had finished saying her beads, and was about to leave the Chapel. "You have been asleep, instead of saying your prayers," she said to them with a smile when they regained the open air. '

206 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

"Oh, I prayed for a long time and very hard first," Charles answered; "then I thought the Saint nodded at me, but I believe it was I who nodded, and I fell asleep just a little. It was so dark in the grotto and the gnats buzzed so loudly." ''Just a little," Julia said laughingly. "You slept like a top, I pulled your sleeve but you did not notice it. ' "Do not you find fault with your brother," interposed Mrs. Lenoir. "You fairly snored in your corner. Well children, it was no sin, and I do not think your prayers will be heard any the less for it. Now let us drink some of the water from the spring which rose miraculously out of the solid rock on purpose for the Saint, and then we will climb up to the top of the mountain, where she sang the praises of God with the choirs of angels." They took a draught of the clear cool water, and bathed their sleepy eyes with it, before regaining the narrow zig-zag path leading through the wood to the plateau at the summit of the mountain. On this spot was a small Chapel of the most unorna- mental description, erected in commemoration of the miraculous converse which the Saint, as the legend tells, was accustomed to hold with angelic visitants in that lonely place. After spending two or three minutes in prayer, Mrs. Lenoir led the children to the southern brow of the mountain, and directed their attention to the magnificent view to be obtained from that lofty eminence on which they were standing. "Look," she said to them, "there on the right, where the haze lies thickest, is Marseilles ; Toulon A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 207 is on the left, and over there, far away on the distant horizon, you can just see the lovely island of Hyeres." "And the sea rolls between, the deep, blue sea, bearing the ships with their white sails ! Julia, do you see that large steamer with the long trail of smoke behind it 1 It is on a ship like that that I mean to go to savage countries, to convert the heathen." When enough had been seen of the green shores and the blue waters of the Mediterranean, the little party descended the mountain, and repaired to the Golden Lily, where they had ordered dinner to be ready for them on their return. During their absence the man who drove them there had told the landlord and the waiter who the children were, and what was the object of their pilgrimage. Everyone in Croy Eouge had of course heard of Father Montmoulin's arrest, and everyone was looking forward eagerly to the on-coming trial. The barmaid who had lifted the children out of the cart on their arrival, and who had fallen in love with the goodlooking little boy, afterwards said to the man: "So those are the nephew and niece of that poor Priest, about whom people say such unkind things ! I could have a word to say about the matter, if only master would let me. But he always says : You hold your tongue, or they will summon you to appear in Court, and you will have to go to Aix to give evidence. And Heaven only knows what annoyances you will get into. Besides your" evidence would do the Priest no good. As he talks like that, I have said nothing, but still I cannot help thinking I ought to." !

208 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

Then John questioned the woman about it, and she told him that one day in the first week of Lent, on Tuesday, she thought, when she opened the house-door in the early morning, she saw the sacristan of Ste. Victoire coming along the road at a quick pace. He looked so strange that she did not recognize him at the first moment, but as he hurried past she knew him by the scar on his cheek, though his hat was pulled over his eyes, and he turned his face away. When news came of the murder at Ste. Victoire, she told the landlord that she had seen the man, for there was something about his appearance that roused her suspicions.

However her master took no heed of it, saying there was every proof that the clergyman had committed the murder, so she held her tongue, for she did not want to have anything to do with courts of law. But now that she had seen the poor children, she almost thought she was bound in conscience to tell what she had seen. And she concluded by asking the man what he thought about it The baker' s employe was not the most sagacious of mankind. Yet it struck him that the information his fair consultor could give might be of some importance, so after pushing aside his hat and scratching his head, he said it might be as well to ask his mistress her opinion, when she came back from the Grotto. "For," he added confidentially, "she is a shrewd woman, and master and mistress too, though she is but a little body." To this the girl agreed, and the whole story was repeated to Mrs. Lenoir on her return to the inn. She listened attentively, and raising her eyes to A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 209

Heaven, exclaimed : "I really believe the children's prayers have been heard! Put the pony to at once, John. As soon as we have had dinner we will drive home. I think what the barmaid has to tell may be of no slight consequence. It has been my opinion from the first that this worthless rascal of a sacristan is the real culprit, though my husband thinks so much of him. Of course the girl will have to give evidence. What is her name?" UI heard them call her Annie," the man replied. "I will give her something, and ask what her other name is. If I ask her to come and see us in Aix, then I can impress upon her the importance of giving her testimony on behalf of the good Priest." Mrs. Lenoir was as good as her word. A few minutes later she learnt the name of the girl, Anne Joly, and inscribed it duly in her notebook. She had no difficulty in persuading her to come to Aix at the time of the trial and appear in Court. The only objection the girl urged was that she had not a good enough dress, and this obstacle Mrs. Lenoir at once removed by saying she had a very pretty shawl that she would give her. With light hearts the little party entered upon the journey home, and before sunset the town was reached. Mrs. Lenoir gave orders to drive straight to the solicitor's house. She found him in his office, and on sending in word that she had an important communication to make concerning the Montmoulin case, she was forthwith admitted to his presence. She told her tale somewhat less concisely than the solicitor could have wished, but at the end he seemed very well satisfied, although ' '

210 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. he did not hold out too bright hopes to his visitor. 4 'The incident interests me," he said, "and I thank you for informing me of it. I hope we may be able to turn it to account. I must request you however, not to say much about it, or our opponents— ' a Oh I understand what you mean. But I am not one of those people who must talk about everything. And you really hope that you will succeed in triumphantly proving his Reverence to be innocent 1 ' "Most assuredly I do. But now in the interest of my client I must deny myself the pleasure of further conversation with you. You will excuse me, Madam; after the trial I shall be at your service." As soon Mrs. Lenoir had left the room, the solicitor rang for one of his clerks, and told him to go at once to the law-court. "I want the name of this person, to be added to the witnesses for the defence. There is no time to be lost, for the Public Prosecutor might take exception to it later on. And order a carriage for me tomorrow morning at 6 o'clock, to go to Croy Rouge. If this new witness is what I venture to hope, she will be of great service to us. A ray of light at last T But whether it will be sufficient to dispel the darkness, I cannot venture to say." The next day towards evening, our little friend Charles might be seen pacing up and down in the square before the town hall. Several times he passed before the famous clock-tower, the lower part of which dates from the time of the Bomans, and which is the admiration of every stranger. The child's demeanour was irresolute, and now a victim: to the seal of confession. 211 and again lie glanced timidly at the large house on the other side of the street, where the Chief Judge resided, who, he had been told, would have to pronounce sentence on his uncle. Finally, when the clock struck six, he summoned up all his courage, walked determinately across the square to the door of the great house, and with a beating heart pulled the brightly-polished bell handle. An old servant in livery opened the door, and looked wonderingly at the handsome boy, who lifting his cap from his curly head, modestly asked if he could see the worshipful the Judge. "What is your business with his Worship, my little man?" inquired the servant in no unkind manner.

< 'Please Sir, I am the nephew of the good Priest who has been accused falsely by wicked people, and I want to explain that to the Judge. And I want to beg him to let my grandmother and mother out of prison ; they have done nothing at all that is wrong."

' 'Poor little lad ! I am afraid your representations will not go for much. Yet I will ask if master will see you, he seems in a very good humour today." A few minutes later Charles was ushered into a grandly furnished drawing-room, where an elderly gentleman, very nicely dressed, was sitting. He looked the boy up and down, as with some hesitation at first, then with tolerable fluency, he laid his petition before him. The little fellow's frank countenance and modest mien prepossessed the Judge in his favour, and when Charles naively " :

212 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. stated his readiness to swear in Conrt to his uncle's innocence, the listener could not repress a smile.

' Then he said : 'Tell me child, who put this strange idea into your head?" For he thought it was a piece of acting, which his relatives had put the boy up to, for the sake of producing an effect. Charles related the story of the innocent miller who was falsely accused of murder just like his uncle, and who was acquitted, because another man deposed to his guiltlessness on oath. He told the tale well, and the Judge heard him to the end. "It was this story," the boy concluded, "that made me think I might do the same for my uncle, who is really a good and holy man. And since I was told that you Sir, were kind and just, I took the liberty of coming to ask you how I was to take the oath, and get my uncle released." "Well, my man," the Judge answered, stroking the boy's head, "you have told your tale and stated your case admirably. You will make a lawyer some day. There is one difficulty though children cannot take an oath in a court of law." "What a pity! But I am not a child now." "You have not yet reached the age prescribed by law." "And people will not believe my word, though I never told a lie ? "I have no doubt that you are fully persuaded of your uncle's innocence, but unfortunately that is not enough for us. But you shall not have come to me for nothing ; I promise to do all in my power in your uncle's behalf. And as for your grandmother and mother, you shall be allowed to visit them, as soon as the trial is over." A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 218

The boy expressed his thanks, and departed with a light heart, and a nice cake in his pocket. The Judge sighed as he turned over the minutes of the case and said to himself: "Poor little fellow! I could not let him know what a bad lookout there is for his uncle." CHAPTER XVII.

In Court.

The eventful day came at last. Long before the doors were opened, an eager crowd thronged the square before the Court of Justice and filled the adjacent streets. The mob swayed impatiently, each individual being anxious to get in first and secure a good place in the gallery. "It is no use pushing," the doorkeeper said to them. "The doors will not be opened until eight o'clock, and then only persons who have tickets will be admitted. Two hundred tickets have been issued, and that is about as many as the gallery holds." "Tickets!" ejaculated one of the crowd, "what have we got a republic lor 1 Is there not i Liberty, equality, fraternity' over the door? We are all equal in the eyes of the law. I shall complain to the Chief Judge." "You are welcome to do that, my good fellow. But we have none but sober folk in Court, and you are already the worse for drink."

' 'See how these insolent officials trample on the

' rights of the people, ' angrily retorted the tipsy man. "You be quiet," said a neighbor, "or the police will run you in again for being disorderly. There is no equality now in France ; do you think if you or I had put a knife into an old woman people would have wanted tickets to witness the trial? Come, there is no chance to get let in here, we will go round to the other door, where the judges and (214) ' " ;

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 215

witnesses go in, and tell them a bit of our mind about the reverend prisoner. So saying the two friends went round to the principal entrance, where already witnesses, members of the jury, or officials of the Court were beginning to arrive. When the Mayor of Ste. Victoire was recognized he met with quite an ovation for his sagacity in laying his hand on the doer of the bloody deed. After him came a party of clergymen, Father Regent and the old white-haired Priest of La Grange, with some of the Seminary professors and other ecclesiastics. The mob received them very differ-

ently ; hisses and groans and even words of abuse were heard, for the accusation under which one of their number lay, emboldened the irreligious and ungodly to manifest openly their hatred of the servants of God. Indignant at their reception, the aged Pastor of La Grange stopped, and turning round on the topmost step of the flight that led to the door, said: "Is it usual to insult the clergy in

this manner in Aix f 7 Almost at the same moment the Presiding Judge drove up in his carriage. The people cheered him, but one voice called out to him not to let the Priest off with a whole skin. The Judge looked coldly at the rabble, and said: "Silence! It is not for \ french citizens to anticipate the decisions of Justice and abuse either witnesses or the representatives of the law. I shall have a military cordon placed

round the Court, if I hear any more of these dis- turbances." This speech had a quieting effect on the crowd 216 a victim: to the seal of confession. but it was whispered by some that the Judge had gone over to the party of the Clericals. Others said, no, he only spoke as he did to show that he favoured no party. Then the Public Prosecutor made his appearance ; he too, was received with cheers. Not so Mr. Meunier, the Counsel for the defence ; he carried a large portfolio under his arm, and was hissed by the bystanders, one of whom bade him beware how with his tricks and his hair-splitting he got the prisoner off the punishment he deserved. But when the old gentleman calmly went up to the speaker, and taking out his pocket-book asked his name and address, the crowd fell back, saying: Take care, or we shall get locked up. *'Yes,' J replied the solicitor, u anyone who fears the consequences of insulting a gentleman in public, had better mind his manners." In consequence of this procedure on Mr. Meu- nier' s part, the rest of the witnesses and jurymen were allowed to pass without remark. But when the prison-van with the prisoner came in sight, the uproar was tremendous. Father Montmoulin, in the narrow, closely-shut compartment where he sat, heard above the rattling of the wheels upon the stone-paved street, the furious cries of the people, desirous to see him delivered over to the executioner. The van drove through the'gates into an inner courtyard, the gates being instantly shut, so that the Priest was not seen when he alighted, and was conducted into the building between two constables; otherwise there were doubtless many amongst the on-lookers, who would have felt deep ;

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 217

sympathy with hini, as with words of prayer on his lips, he went to meet his fate. The excitement had not yet subsided when Mr. Lenoir with his wife and the two children, and the girl Joly made their way up to the Court. The baker, Charles and Julia, and the barmaid joined the other witnesses, while Mrs. Lenoir, thanks to a ticket Mr. Meunier had given her, was admitted to the gallery. There she deftly elbowed her way to the front, so as to obtain a good view of the Court, apologising as she did to a gentleman on the plea of her short stature, and the fact that her husband and foster-children had to give evidence. With a smile the gentleman allowed himself to be dislodged from his place by the bustling little woman. The high, spacious Court was lighted by a dome. At the far end, on a raised platform were the table and chairs of the Judges ; that of the Presiding Judge being somewhat higher than the others. Above his seat a large crucifix hung on the wall. Along the wall on the right were the seats appropriated to the jury; on the left was the prisoner's dock, slightly raised above the level of the floor. In front of this the Counsel for the defence had his seat, that of the Prosecutor being opposite. The ushers of the Court were still engaged in arranging the benches, and laying books and papers on the Judges' table when Meunier entered in gown and wig, and going up to his desk, opened his portfolio to see that his papers were in order every sheet was in its place. He glanced at the clock: five minutes more, just time to collect his !

218 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

thoughts. He seated himself, and fixing his eyes on the crucifix, murmured a few words of prayer. But almost immediately some of his fellow jurists came in, and began to talk to him. Then the Public Prosecutor appeared, and passed to his place, bowing distantly to T\lr. Meunier. The latter crossed over and held out his hand; the other, a much younger man, just gave him the tips of his fingers, with a formal acknowledgment of his friendly advances. "If I may be permitted to make one request," he added, "I must beg that you will not spin out this vexatious case to an unnecessary length. I see you have a whole list of witnesses who apparently are called for no other purpose than to testify to the irreproachable antecedents of the accused. This is quite superfluous; I am prei>ared myself to call special attention to the fact that the reverend gentleman has hitherto enjoyed a blameless reputation. You can strike off half the names on your list." "I shall certainly do my utmost to avoid length- ening out this vexatious case, as you very justly designate, the one on which we are engaged, and I shall perhaps be able to dispense with one or two witnesses. May I on my part proffer a request It is that you will not allow the charge brought against an individual priest to be regarded in any wise as an aspersion on the priesthood, in general, for that would give me much pain." "Ah, you are thinking of the old saying: ab uno disce omnes, by one you may judge of all. If you do not provoke me—But the clock is striking and here come the judges." A VICTIM OF THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 219

Mr. Meunier regained his seat in all haste while the judges in their robes of office entered by the great folding-doors and solemnly took their places. The jurymen did the same and the chat- tering in the gallery ceased. Every eye was turned

to the door on the left,' through which the prisoner was to be brought in. At a sign from the Judge it was opened, and Father Montmoulin appeared, conducted by two warders. Pale and downcast, yet placid and composed in his bearing, he walked across to the middle of the room, then he stopped, and raising his eyes, he bowed to the judges. At the same moment he caught sight of the crucifix, and a melancholy smile passed over his countenance. There was the consoler whom he needed, to whom in his affliction he must continually look. He seemed to hear the Man of Sorrows say to him: Take up thy cross

and follow Me ; and involuntarily he laid his hand on his heart and answered: Give me grace, Lord, that I may follow Thee. The upward glance and the gesture were not unnoticed either by Judge or jury. The Judge

' asked himself : 'Is it possible that the man is such

? ' a hypocrite ' And the Prosecutor muttered under his breath, loud enough to be heard by the jury: "What an actor the fellow is!" But the general impression made by the unhappy Priest on those present was anything but unfavorable. Meanwhile the prisoner took his stand in the dock, with the warders on either side of him, the jury. being opposite. He evidently felt that all eyes were upon him, and a slight flush tinged his 220 a victim: of the seal of confession.

cheek. The Presiding Judge then opened the proceedings with a few appropriate sentences. A frightful crime had been committed, the murder with robbery of a lady highly esteemed for her charity and good works, and what was yet worse, suspicion pointed to the Priest of the parish, her confessor, as the perpetrator of the deed. It was the duty of the administrators of justice to decide, without regard of person, whether the accused was guilty or not guilty. Nothing must be allowed to

bias the mind of the jury ; it was much to be regretted that this unhappy occurrence had been discussed by the press from the standpoint of politics, and even employed to the furtherance of political aims before the guilt of the prisoner had been judicially proved. The interests of justice demanded a total exclusion of anything like party spirit from the

law courts ; no consideration of person or calling, but only well substantiated facts must have weight. He had been sorry to hear remarks from the people in the streets which could only be justified by abhorrence of the crime and the false, preconceived idea that the prisoner was proved to be guilty. He warned all persons present against any expression

of feeling, either of approval or disapproval, as if the least disturbance was made, he would instantly order the gallery to be cleared. After the usual preliminary questions had been put to the prisoner, the ordinary exhortations addressed to the Counsel, and the customary oaths administered to the jury, each one responding to his name, the President admonished the accused to listen to the accusation which was then read aloud A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 221

by the clerk of the Court. It was to the purport that Francis Montinoulin, clerk in holy Orders, Parish Priest of Ste. Victoire, there present, did on the 20th February of the current year, wilfully, designedly and of set purpose, murder the widow Marie Blanchard, aged 65 years, and rob her of the sum of £480. Although this charge had long since been made known through the public papers, yet the formal reading of it produced a great impression. Some of those present looked with compassion, others with abhorrence, at the accused, who listened with closed eyes, an involuntary shudder running over him at the word murder. At the close a glance at the crucifix enabled him to regain composure, and to answer the question whether he pleaded guilty or not guilty in a calm clear voice : not guilty. Then the Public Prosecutor rose to open the case against the prisoner. He began by expressing his regret that the duties of his official position laid him under the obligation of proceeding against the member of a profession which had the strongest claim to respect and veneration. And if the sensi- bilities of the faithful were deeply wounded, he

must beg them to cherish no ill will against the individual whose business it was to conduct the prosecution, but let the odium rest upon the criminal who, oblivious of his sacred calling, had caused so crying a scandal. Not only he himself, but the Mayor of Ste. Yictoire, and the magistrate on whom devolved the duty of instituting the first judicial inquiry, had with the greatest reluctance admitted the possibility that a member of the 222 A victim: to the seal of confession. priesthood had perpetrated so foul a crime. Only when facts so glaring as to leave no doubt on the matter came to light, was the conviction forced upon them and upon all the public functionaries who took part in the examination, that the Bever- end Mr. Montmoulin was one of the number of priests — no very small number either — who dis- graced their cloth and the class they belonged to. He entertained no doubt that the result of the trial would be to convince all unprejudiced persons, even those who had the highest opinion of the clergy, of the prisoner's guilt, so weighty was the evidence against him. "The mere reading of the report of the judicial examination and the facts of the case is in itself sufficient to show that no one else could have done the deed," he continued. He then proceeded to relate the course of events with which the reader is already acquainted: how tidings reached the

Mayor that the old lady was missing ; how he immediately went to the prisoner, imagining that

some accident had occurred ; how he found in him a state of unaccountable agitation, which first led the Mayor to suspect the existence of some crime, and how reluctantly the Priest agreed to the house being searched. And no wonder, for he knew this search must inevitably lead — as the event proved —to the discovery of the murder sooner than he had anticipated. The report of the judicial inquiry was then read slowly and distinctly. Three times the Prosecutor interrupted the reader, to direct the attention of the jury to the extraordinary behaviour of the '

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 223

Priest in his first interview with the Mayor, on the discovery of the corpse of the murdered lady, and the sight of the blood-stained knife. The friends of the accused felt their hearts sink when they heard this overwhelming evidence. The President then asked the prisoner whether he acknowledged the report to be correct; he answered: l 'As regards the facts, yes; as regards the explanation of those facts, no." "Then you allow that the Mayor and the gentlemen who accompanied him found you pacing rest- lessly up and down your room at a late hour. How do you explain that, as you professed to be unwell ? ' "I had been in bed all the afternoon, and had to say my breviary." 1 'Those gentlemen all agree in stating that the impression made on them was that you were not in the least surprised to hear of Mrs. Blanchard's disappearance, and your manner led them to con- clude that you were already acquainted with the fate that had befallen her." "How was that possible, unless you suppose that the criminal acquainted me with it." "You evade my question. Did you or did you not know that this crime had been committed?" "As it is not presumable that the perpetrator of the deed acquainted me with it, I could only know of it if I had done it myself; and again I repeat I am entirely innocent of it." Here the Prosecutor interposed to bid the jury observe that the accused did not attempt to deny that the tidings brought by the Mayor caused him 224 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

little or no surprise. This in conjunction with other evidence, confirmed the statement that he was himself the murderer. The Counsel for the defence answered that the circumstance of his client evincing no confusion should rather be taken as a proof of his innocence.

But if, as his visitors imagined, though they might easily be mistaken on this point, the news of the unhappy lady's disappearance did in reality cause him no great surprise, "I shall be able," he said, "when the right time comes to clear up this difficulty in the most satisfactory manner. The explanation would take too long now." The Prosecutor declared that he was most anxious to hear this explanation. Perhaps Mr. Meunier's piety led him to believe that an angel from heaven, or the spirit of the murdered woman, had appeared to the reverend gentleman! A laugh ran round the gallery, and even the jurymen smiled. The remark of the defence, that this reply was not pertinent, passed unheeded. It was generally thought that the answer made by the accused was anything but satisfactory. The Judge then questioned the accused in respect to his behaviour when the proposal to search the house was made, and the "frightened glance" which the Mayor alleged he cast upon. the door of the room where the body lay, and again his answer was somewhat evasive. He was then asked how it was that he before anyone else saw what was hidden beneath the pall 1 "I saw the feet of the murdered lady projecting from it." A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION". 225

"You. also took the initiative in protesting your innocence before anyone accused you of the crime'?"

"I did so because the Mayor treated me as if I was a convicted criminal, though he did not say so in so many words." An explanation of the spots of blood upon the Priest's cassock was then required. The prisoner repeated what he had already said, and on the garment in question being produced in Court for examination, an expert pronounced several of the spots to be congealed blood, others being doubtful. The counsel for the defence drew attention to the fact that the stains were all from the knee down- wards, which corroborated the statement of his client, whereas had they been occasioned by the blow he was said to have inflicted, they would have been upon the upper part of the cassock and the sleeves. This argued in favour of the prisoner, although the Prosecutor attempted to show that he might have thrown his victim down first, and afterwards stabbed her. But any favourable impression made upon the jury was effaced by the answers the prisoner made regarding the knife and other blood-stained articles found in his kitchen, and now produced in Court. The knife, which he acknowledged to be his, was said exactly to fit the wound that proved fatal to the deceased lady. The marks upon it were human blood, and there was no room for doubt that it was the instrument wherewith the murder was committed. The prisoner could only put forward the supposition that the murderer made use of his knife, and replaced it in the kitchen after the deed, with the object of causing him to be suspected. 226 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

He was then asked if lie alluded to any individual in particular? and replied that he was not aware that he had any personal enemies. The Judge then reproved him for endeavouring to elude his question. "I did not ask you," he said, " whether you had any personal enemies, but whether there was any individual whom you had reason to suspect." "Without the plainest proof I have no right to accuse anyone of such a deed," Father Montmou- lin replied. "Granted that the murderer took your knife with the view of diverting suspicion from himself, it would have been enough if he had only made use of it, and left it ; is it probable that he would carry it up to the kitchen, together with the basket and the cloth, exposing himself to the risk of being- seen, and hide them there?" "His motive must have been to strengthen the evidence against me." The counsel for the defence here begged the gentlemen of the jury to observe that had his client been guilty, he would surely have concealed the blood-stained articles, and not left them in the sight of all. The Prosecutor replied that he might have forgotten to conceal them in his agitation , or left them in sight purposely, in order that the folly of doing so might argue the presence of a third person, which he would presently show to have been impossible. The counsel for the defence asserted himself prepared to show the contrary ; and after the production of the candlestick, found, as the reader will remember, under the body of the A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 227 murdered woman, the cross-examination of the prisoner was closed, and the Judge ordered the witnesses to be called. During a short pause in the proceedings whispered comments were freely exchanged in the gallery. The calm, placid demeanour and gentle responses of the Priest prepossessed all the women at least in his favour, and few of those present could believe him guilty, although the circumstantial evidence, and still more his inability to account for the presence of the blood-stained articles in the kitchen, told strongly against him in the minds of all who were present. CHAPTER XVIII.

The Witnesses are called.

The evidence of the first witnesses who were called offered little or no points of interest. The Mayor and other public functionaries from Ste. Victoire repeated the deposition they had made and put in writing at the time the murder was discovered. When interrogated as to the character the Priest bore in his parish, all were obliged to own that they knew nothing against him ; only the landlord of the Golden Rose declared in a bombastic manner that he had always held him to be an arrant hypocrite. And when asked on what this opinion was grounded, he exclaimed: "Is it not enough that he is a Priest?" Thereby meriting a sharp reproof from the Judge. Considerable amusement was caused when old Susan made her appearance in the witness-box. Her dress alone was enough to provoke laughter. She wore her gay cotton dress with the large flowers freshly washed and starched for the occasion, and a shawl of brilliant colours which might have become her well, had she been forty years younger. Finally her withered, wrinkled face looking out from beneath a straw hat loaded with faded flowers had such a comical effect that the Judges could hardly keep their countenance. Even round the lips of the accused a sad smile played. "The good (228) '

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 229

old soul!" he said to himself. "No doubt it is in my honour that she has thus adorned herself." Susan made an elaborate curtsey first to Father Montmoulin and then to the Chief Judge. After she had sworn to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, she deposed how she missed the knife at breakfast time, three hours before the

murder ; how Father Montmoulin dismissed her at 10 a. m. with orders not to return until the next

morning ; and how she met Mrs. Blanchard at the Convent door.

On being asked if there was not a second knife

of a similar description, she said: "No ; they had

only the one." On being asked if it did not strike her as singular, that her services should be dis- pensed with at so early an hour, she replied : "I

scolded his Reverence for it, because he was not well. But he has his fads, sometimes he likes to get his own supper, especially in Lent, for he keeps the fast very strictly." And then she was asked whether there was anyone else in the Convent at the time that Mrs. Blanchard was murdered, and told to consider her answer well. Perfect silence prevailed in the Court, one might have heard a pin drop, as the sayiDg is, for everybody was listening with breathless attention. "I have been thinking about that," the old woman replied, "ever since poor master was taken into custody, and I can only say this : the sacristan must surely have been hid somewhere there ! ' A murmur of astonishment ran through the Court. The President commanded silence, and

i ' asked the witness : What makes you think that % '

230 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

Did you see him anywhere f Kernember you are on your oath." "No, I did not see him. But he must have been there. No one but that rascally fellow would have committed the murder." "I am in a position to prove," interposed the Prosecutor, "that the sacristan could not possibly have been in Ste. Yictoire at that time. It is mere suspicion on the part of this good woman." But Susan was not to be abashed. "Oh," she said, "uo doubt the devil brought him there." "What," exclaimed the President, "you surely do not believe— ' "Of course I do believe! If the foul fiend could take up our Blessed Lord and set Him on a pin- nacle of the temple in Jerusalem, as we read in the Gospel, he would have no scruple in conveying that wretch of a sacristan, who never goes to his duties, to the Convent to kill and rob the poor old lady and bring our good Pastor into this terrible fix. I know another story of how he carried a lawyer from Paris to the Gallows-hill near Mar- seiles in half-an-hour. Would your Worship like

' to hear the story % J A roar of laughter resounded on all sides. The Judge dismissed the witness, saying he should not have thought there was so much superstition amongst the peasantry, a remark which sorely offended old Susan. When tranquility was restored, the Prosecutor proceeded to call the witnesses to prove an alibi for Loser r whom hitherto they had unfortunately not succeeded in tracing. Efforts had been made A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 231 by the defence to attach suspicion, he said, to this man, who was thoroughly to be respected and had served his country well, but research only tended to show that it was impossible for him to have been in Ste. Victoire on the 20th February. The first witness was the landlord of the Golden Rose, who related how, in the presence of a numerous company, Loser had, on the evening of the 19th ult. given his keys into his safe keeping, saying he was off to Marseilles on business; that business being to claim a legacy of fifteen hundred or two thousand pounds, bequeathed to him by a rich relative in Lorraine.

The Counsel for the defence here asked if the prosecution was aware that the story of this legacy was entirely fictitious ?

The Prosecutor replied that it was true that Loser had drawn largely on his imagination, and he could not deny that this fact told against him, and might even cause him to be suspected, if the alibi were not so well authenticated. As it was, he could only say the man had indulged in a little harmless boasting. "Such a falsehood," Mr. Meunier replied, "could hardly be glossed over as harmless boasting. To me it appears only too obvious, that Loser invented the story of the legacy to account for his possession of the large sum of money which he hoped to acquire by the crime he meditated. I beg the gentlemen of the jury to observe, when the evidence for the alibi is given, what prominence and publicity he sought to give to this pretended journey to Marseilles. This, together with the !

232 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

audacious lie about his legacy, will show you the character of the man, whom my learned colleague designates as 'thoroughly to be respected.' " The baker Lenoir next entered the witness box. To his wife's great annoyance, he appeared quite proud of having driven the valiant ex-soldier to the station on the eventful evening, and confirmed the statement that he had asked for a ticket to Marseilles. The clerk at the booking office recog-

nized Loser's photograph j so did the waiter in the refreshment room, and one of the porters and two other railway officials. They all remembered seeing the man with the ugly scar on the platform just before the express train to Marseilles came in.

Mr. Meunier asked these witnesses if it had not struck them that the man made himself intention-

ally prominent. Some said yes ; others said no, he only seemed anxious not to miss the train.

The guard was next called ; after giving his evidence he was subjected to a sharp cross-examination by Mr. Meunier as to whether he was certain that the man, whom he had noticed on account of the scar on his face, had really travelled in the train. The guard said he could swear to having clipped his ticket, and found him a place just before the train left the station. He had not seen him afterwards, as he had not been to that com-

partment again, the train being very ' long ; he thought — but he could not swear to this — that he had seen him again on arriving at Marseilles. The Judge again asked: "Then you can swear that the man entered the train and travelled all the way in it } ' " '

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 233

"He certainly got in, " was the reply, "consequently he must have travelled with it."

' ' 'You cannot be positive about the latter point, interposed the counsel for the defence. "Yes I can," the other replied somewhat testily, 1 'do you think anyone can leave the train with the guard standing by, and he not see if? "I do not see that it is at all impossible. Per- haps his Worship would kindly inquire of the other railway officials who are present what their opinion is." This Avas done; all affirmed that it was most improbable, if not impossible, that anyone should alight from the carriage he had just entered without being observed by one or other of the railway servants. The station-master also declared that he remembered the evening in question, and was sure that no one remained on the platform after the departure of the train.

Still Mr. Meunier was not satisfied. i 'It appears to me that this very important point has not been sufficiently cleared up," he said. "I caused inquiries to be made amongst the raihvay officials at Marseilles, and succeeded in discovering the ticket- collector who took the tickets on the night in ques-

tion ; he said that he did not recollect seeing the man who was noticeable on account of his scar."

1 ' 'He told me the same, ' the Prosecutor rejoined, "but at the same time he remarked that he had not time to scrutinize the faces of the passengers, his business was to see that their tickets were all right. Thus it is plain that the man may have passed unnoticed. In fact, I consider an alibi to 234 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. be clearly proved, unless it be supposed that he was spirited away out of the train in some miraculous manner." The counsel for the defence seeing the ground thus cut away under his feet, endeavoured to prove that the sacristan might have returned by the first train the next morning. In this however, he utterly failed, as Loser must have been back at Ste. Victoire before seven, in order to have taken the knife out of the kitchen, if he were indeed the murderer. He was obliged therefore to resume his former position, and re-assert that the sacristan might have stepped out of the train at the moment of starting, and slipped unperceived by a back way out of the station. He said he could produce a witness who had seen him coming from Ste. Victoire on the morning of the murder, he must consequently have been there at the time it was committed. He had intended to call this witness later, but begged to be allowed to call her at once. Permission was of course granted, and the barmaid from Croy Rouge was summoned. Now when, on the Saturday morning before the trial, the Prosecutor found the name of Anne Joly added to the list of witnesses, and heard that Meunier had driven over to Croy Rouge, he thought it worth while to go over himself in the afternoon and ascertain who this new witness was. What he heard there might have altered the features of the trial, had he known it from the outset. But now, only the day before the proceedings were to commence, he had gone too far, and he would not allow even to himself that he might be wrong in his A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 235 opinion as to the guilt of the prisoner, and had gone on a false track. So there was no alternative but to render the barmaid's deposition valueless. He made a few inquiries as to her character, and returned to Aix without much apprehension as to the influence her evidence might have. Anne Joly stepped into the witness-box with a complacent smile, curtseying right and left, little suspecting what arrows the gentleman who talked so affably to her on the previous Saturday evening, now had in store for her. After she had answered the usual questions before she took the customary oath, the Prosecutor rose, and said he objected to this witness ; then he asked her how she came by that pretty new shawl which became her so well 1 For a moment the girl was taken aback, then she answered pertly that she did not see what that mattered to him ; the shawl was not stolen. "It does matter to me, I will tell you all about it," he answered; "The shawl was given you by a certain Mrs. Lenoir, on condition that you should give evidence on behalf of the Eev. Mr. Montmoulin. Can you deny that V 7 The baker Lenoir could hardly keep his seat, when he heard this assertion. He glanced up at his wife, and saw how she wrung her hands in consternation. The barmaid blushed crimson, and murmured something unintelligible. But the counsel for the prisoner quietly came to her aid, and by a few adroit questions made it apparent that the shawl was not given her as a bribe, but was merely a present to compensate her for her trouble in coming to Aix. After a little more cross-questioning, 236 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

this view of the matter was admitted. Mrs. Lenoir was however not acquitted of blame for her share in the transaction. But before the witness was sworn, the Prosecutor brought forward witnesses

to speak of her character ; nothing very bad was alleged against her, but she was represented as a gossip and chatterbox, and the landlord of the inn went so far as to assert it to be his opinion that the story was a fabrication on the girl's part to give herself importance. Again the Court deliberated as to admitting her

evidence ; finally she was sworn, but not until the Judge had read her a lecture on the sacredness of the oath, and the penalties attached to perjury. Consequently the girl, bewildered and frightened, began to cry, and allowed herself to be so brow- beaten by the Prosecutor that she hardly knew what she said, and her evidence, from which Mr. Meunier hoped so much, produced anything but the desired effect. On the other hand the next witnesses, called for the prosecution, did little to further their cause. No sufficient motive could be found for the crime. The trifling debt owed by the prisoner or his mother, the order for the books, the small expense of furn- ishing a room, were too contemptible to be urged

as inducements for so revolting a deed. . Nor was it made apparent that there was sufficient ground for suspicion of complicity to justify the arrest of the prisoner's mother and sister, as the accusation rested on the children's assertion that their grandmother had brought "a lot of money" with her from Ste. Victoire. They were examined, but A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 237

Mr. Meunier had no difficulty in explaining away their statement. When Charles was about to leave the witness- box, he held out his finger, as he was accustomed to do at school, as a sign that he had something to say. The Judge gave him permission to speak, and the boy said: "The gentleman with the black beard who has been talking against my uncle all the morning, could not explain how the candlestick which was on the altar got into that terrible room. I can." Then he told how he had been afraid to go through the long corridors in the dark, and had taken the candlestick, and how the sight of the death's head had scared him so much that he let it fall and fled upstairs. "And so," he concluded, "you see, Sir, what that gentleman said was quite untrue, that my uncle lighted the poor lady down the stairs and then killed her. How could he thiuk of such a thing! And you Sir, why do you not punish him for lying?" The judges smiled, the jury laughed outright, and the people in the gallery began to apj)laud the forward boy, but at this juncture the President stopped the proceedings, as noon was long past, and the Court rose. Father Montmoulin was conducted to the cell of the accused, which was in a back part of the building. There his dinner was served, but it will be readily imagined that he had no heart to eat, and scarcely touched the dishes set before him. "If only it was all over!" he said to himself, leaning back in his chair and resting his head against the wall. In this position he fell asleep, being tired 238 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. out, and dreamt that St. John Nepoinucene, whom he had so frequently invoked, appeared to him, holding out a crown. He inquired whether it was the victor's wreath, and the Saint answered: "Not yet ; the crown of thorns must come first." And as he held out his hand for it, he woke, and found his Counsel standing before him. li I congratulate you," the solicitor said, "on the good use you have made of this interval. I only wish the jury could have seen you, it would have done more towards convincing them of your innocence than all my arguments. But I see that you have hardly taken anything; that is. unwise, as the trial may be protracted to a late hour, and you need to keep up your strength. "Well, we have done pretty well so far. We have gained several points, though not all. I think I managed to make the alibi doubtful, and as for the motive of the crime alleged, not one was worth a moment's consideration. Your little nephew spoke out bravely, that sort of thing has a very good effect on the jury. I still hope for an acquittal, though we must be prepared for everything. You are not like most of my clients, you know the power of prayer. But

what I wanted to ask was this : Would you like me

to call your mother to give evidence ? I expected that the Prosecutor would have done so. I suspect he thought it wiser not to summon hex, lest she might soften the hearts of the jury." "Pray do not do anything of that sort. I should indeed be sorry to expose my poor mother to so painful a trial. Besides I beg you to remember that I do not ask for pity, but justice from my A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 239 judges. An acquittal which arose from a sense of compassion alone, not from the persuasion of my innocence, would have no value in my eyes. For the sake of my office I desire my character to be fully reinstated. Every thing else is a matter of indifference." "Very well, we will do our best with the help of God." After an interval of two hours, the proceedings were resumed, the witnesses for the accused being- first heard. Father Montmoulin's former teachers testified to his having always been exemplary in his conduct while under their charge, those who had been his fellow students said the same, never had he manifested any tendency to cruelty, decep- tion or love of money. He had been a frank, merry youth, a favourite with all his comrades. The Seminary professors, amongst them Father Eegent, who was universally known and respected, gave evidence to the effect that both as a Seminarist and a Priest, he had been a man of the highest morals and blameless life. The venerable Pastor of La Grange said that the accused had lived with him for ten years, and he had only found one fault in him, too great zeal and excessive liberality towards the sick and poor. He would give them his last sixpence, almost the very clothes he wore, so that he (the speaker) had to reprove him for not dressing well enough for his position. It was utterly incompre- hensible how anybody could possibly believe such a man to be guilty of robbery with murder. Several poor people were also called to testify to Father Montmoulin's kindness of heart, and his 240 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

benefactions to them. All this seemed to impress the jury. But the Prosecutor grew impatient, and at length rising* to his feet and addressing the Judge, he said: "My lord, it appears to me that my learned colleague is taxing our patience unne- cessarily. As I told him at first, I am more than willing to admit that the character of the accused

has hitherto been blameless. Is it not superfluous to bring forward this endless array of witnesses V The Judge replied that he did not place any restrictions on the defence, and he left it to the Counsel to decide whether he need produce any more evidence to prove a fact which no one doubted. Mr. Meunier only asked permission to bring forward two more. One of these was the lad who had acted as guide to the Priest, when on the night before the murder, he had gone to administer the last sacraments to a dying man, and after spending the night at his bedside, had returned at daybreak through storm and rain to Ste. Victoire. Is it possible, the solicitor asked at the close of the narrative, that a man of such heroic devotion to duty, should a few hours later, stain his hands with the blood of a defenceless woman for the sake of a few pounds ? The last witness was Dr. Corbillard, who had made the post-mortem examination of the murdered lady. Although not a religious man himself, he spoke in the most emphatic manner of Father Montmoulin's humane and gentle character, adding that he was sincerely grieved that he should have fallen under suspicion, as he would never have dreamt him to be capable of committing such a deed as that of which he was accused. —

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 241

"And supposing," Mr. Meunier inquired, "the Court should find him guilty—I hope I am putting an impossible case—-is there any explanation of the act which you as a medical pratitioner could give!" "Well," the doctor replied, "I confess I have given a good deal of thought to that subject of late, and have arrived at the conclusion that the opinion of some physicians, who allege that a temporary aberration of intellect may be the explanation of many apparently unaccountable actions, is not alto-* gether unfounded. Galenus wrote of old : cerebrum obscura textura, obscuriores functiones, morbi obscuris- simi. (The brain is a mysterious organ, mysterious in its functions, still more mysterious in its dis- eases.) In fact a temporary pressure upon one of the cells, a temporary inflammation of certain parts, may be productive of aberration of intellect for a time, a passing fit of insanity. Under such circumstances a man is not responsible for his actions, and will probably have no recollection of anything done while in that condition." "Would he not even be conscious that he had

' been in this morbid state? ' inquired the Prosecutor. The doctor hesitated, and then answered somewhat doubtfully that such could hardly be the case; that these instances of temporary insanity were rare, and were invariably preceded by symptoms of nervous derangement, such as he had never remarked in the accused.

The Judge then asked the prisoner if he had anything to say to this suggestion. Father Montmoulin replied that he certainly was feeling unwell at that time —but '

242 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

The Judge here cautioned him against saying anything to incriminate himself. The prisoner thanked his lordship. "I cannot," he added, "avail myself of the doctor's theory. I am perfectly convinced that when the unfortunate Mrs. Blanchard left my presence I was in complete possession of all my senses. I was saying my breviary at the time when the foul deed must have been done, and after that I laid down upon my bed." The counsel for the defence then resumed his seat, saying with a somewhat melancholy expression that he had no more witnesses to produce. The interest manifested by the on-lookers was evidently intense. "What a fool," whispered a man standing close to Mrs. Lenoir, who professed to take a perfectly unprejudiced view of the proceedings. "He ought to have taken his cue from the counsel, he might have got off on that plea. Now he has cut his own throat ! ' "Do you think so really?" Mrs. Lenoir replied under her breath. "I should have thought his rejecting that suggestion was just a proof of his innocence." The Presiding Judge now announced he was about to have the Prisoner's Mother brought in, that the jury might decide whether she was or was not guilty of receiving the money her son was said to have stolen. The Prosecutor wished to prevent this, but his opposition was overruled. Mrs. Montmoulin was according led in the Court. Grief and anxiety concerning her son, together with the hardships of a five weeks' con- A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 243 finement in prison, had changed the old lady sadly. Ten years seemed to have been added to her age, as she tottered into Court, bent and infirm. "When her eyes fell upon her son, standing in the dock between two warders, she sobbed aloud, and sank weeping into the chair which the Judge ordered to be placed for her. Father Montmoulin was scarcely less moved at the sight of his mother, whom he would hardly have recognized. But he controlled his emotion, and raising his eyes to the crucifix, murmured: "Lord, give us both strength to bear this trial; Thou knowest by whose will we are here." The mother seemed to understand the meaning of her son's glance, she folded her hands and answered the questions addressed to her with calmness. These referred to her past life and the straitened circumstances in which she found herself at present, although through thrift and industry, she had contrived to maintain herself without any pecuniary assistance from her son, with the exception of the twenty pounds which had been a present to him from the lady who was subsequently murdered. Her statements bore the stamp of truth, but the Prosecutor did his utmost to represent the story of the gift of the money as highly improbable. After a long cross-examination the poor woman was allowed to depart, which she gladly did, after a long, sad look at her unfortunate son. OHAPTEE XIX.

Sentence is passed.

After conferring with the judges, the President made a sign to the Prosecutor, who forthwith commenced his speech. Mr. Joubert was an able forensic orator, much dreaded as an opponent. He began by speaking of the sympathy which everyone present must feel for the aged lady who had just been interrogated in the Court. Even if the prisoner were guilty and she were an. accomplice in his crime, every humane heart must feel more or less compassion for her. This natural feeling must however not be indulged, nor allowed to weigh an iota in the balance of even-handed justice. They were pledged to exercise judgment and reason, and not permit themselves to be swayed by the impulses of the heart. "When this introduction was ended, he entered upon the cause with calmness and deliberation. The conviction, he said, had forced itself immediately upon those who conducted the inquiry, that the bloody crime was the act of one person, one who was acquainted with the circumstances and familiar with the place. Hence at the outset suspicion fell upon the sacristan Loser, one or two other persons whose innocence was so obvious that their names had not been mentioned in the trial, and the Parish Priest himself. The behaviour of the latter at the judicial examination, at the search (244) A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 245 made on the premises and on the discovery of the body had been such as to arouse the strongest suspicion. The blood-stained knife bearing his name, and the other things found in the kitchen, all pointed to him as the perpetrator of the crime. He need not speak of the spots of blood upon the cassock the Priest was wearing. Every atom of the evidence tendered spoke so loudly of the prisoner's guilt, that he must needs stop his ears with both hands, who would not hear its voice. Now, if ever, the saying of Marcus Tullius was applic- able : The fact speaks for itself, and that is in itself always the strongest proof. * And yet, considering the blameless antecedents of the prisoner, those who examined the case were not satisfied with this evidence. It did in fact only afford the greatest probability. They might go so far as to state the case thus : The murder was committed on the morning of the 20th February between 10 and 10:30 a. m. Now at that hour there was absolutely no one in the house except the Priest: therefore the Priest is the murderer. The first part of the argument is admitted both by the prisoner and his counsel ; it is also confirmed by evidence. The counsel for the defence has done his utmost to prevent us from delivering the logical conclusion, and he has signally failed. It has been proved that Loser on the evening before took the express train, which does not stop at any interme- diate station, to Marseilles, hence it is demonstrated that he could not have been in Ste. Victoire at the time of the murder. The inconsistent and untrust-

Res loquitur, judices, ipsa, quae semper plurimum valet. 246 a victim: to the seal of confession. worthy evidence of the barmaid at Croy Rouge therefore bears a lie on the face of it. Consequent- ly the Reverend Mr. Montmoulin was alone with the lady at the time the crime was committed and on the spot where it was committed. "The matter is so selfevident that I need waste no more words on it." The motive of the deed was not equally apparent, that must be acknowledged, and inquiry failed to throw any light upon it. For his part, he said, he felt persuaded that the pecuniary embarassments of his relatives led to the deed. The alleged present of money to be expended on the purchase of books, and the liquidation of a small debt, was too improbable to be believed. But the question why the deed was done was one thing, and another the question by whom it was done. The answer to the latter was so transparently clear and so abundantly proved that he did not doubt for a moment that the j ury would all say with him : The prisoner at the bar has so far forgotten his sacred calling, as to stain his consecrated hands with the blood of a defenceless woman, his own parishioner, one who was a mother to the poor and a benefactress to himself. And this he did of malice aforethought, as was shown by his having abstracted the knife for the purpose before seven o'clock in the morning; by his having dismissed the servant ; by his having selected the most suitable spot for the execution of this sinister design. The ridiculous alternative, trumped up by the Counsel in his inability to urge a more plausible theory, that of temporary insanity was too contemptible to require a refutation. On A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFi:SSION. 247

that plea every criminal might elude justice. "The

' only tenable conclusion, ' he said in termination of his speech, "is this: The Priest Montmoulin murdered Mrs. Blanchard wilfully and in cold blood. Your verdict, gentlemen of the jury, will consign him to the penalty he deserves." The impression made by this speech, delivered in a masterly manner, might be seen from the countenances of the jury. The audience in the stranger's gallery exchanged glances, which intimated as plainly as words could have done, that they considered the prisoner's fate to be sealed. Father Montmoulin himself listened with closed eyes, pale, but perfectly composed, his lips occasionally mov- ing in silent prayer. When his Counsel rose to answer, he looked up at him almost compassionate-

ly, as if to say : My dear Sir, you have a difficult, and I fear a thankless task before you. Mr. Meunier was a conscientious lawyer, but as a speaker he was by no means equal to the Prose- cutor. His defence was carefully elaborated, but it was dull and tedious, more suited to influence the judges than the jury. He began by portraying at considerable length, the early years of the prisoner, depicting him as a clever pious boy, an exemplary Seminarist, a model Priest, from whom even the enemies of the clergy in general could not withhold a tribute of praise. And now they were expected to believe that this gentle, guileless, un-

selfish man was a thief and a murderer ! He, who would share his last crust with the poor, was said to have robbed his benefactress of a sum which was the property of the poor, and for the sake of !

248 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. this money, of which he could easily have obtained possession some other way—for instance, he might have said it had been stolen from his desk in the night—he had assassinated a woman most helpful to him, and moreover done so in such a clumsy manner as to cause suspicion to fall upon himself immediately! Who would be so credulous as to believe this possible ? They were not in presence of a psychological problem, but of an psychological impossibility. Such a man could never have done such a deed There must then be another answer to the question : "Who committed the crime ? than that given by the Prosecutor, and any and every solution of the puzzle would appear more probable than his. The Court might perhaps think it ridiculous on his part, but in reality, he would sooner believe the extraordinary suggestion of the old servant, than believe so excellent a priest to be capable of the work of an assassin. But it was not necessary to have recourse to the preternatural, to find a key to the enigma. The sacristan Loser was just the sort of man to be guilty of such a deed, and the alibi proved by the Prosecutor rested, as a matter of fact, only upon the evidence of one railway guard, who might well be mistaken. Indeed he must have been mistaken, as was shown by the evidence given by the barmaid of Croy Eouge, as she confidently asserted that she had seen the sacristan on the morning of the crime, and under very suspicious circumstances. True, the girl wavered somewhat afterwards in her statement, but it did not require very much A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 249 of the skill as a lawyer, for the possession of which he scarcely envied his learned colleague, to confuse and bewilder an ignorant peasant girl. Then Loser's mysterious disappearance immediately after the crime had been committed seemed a corroboration of his guilt. How was it to be explained % How could it be that every effort to ascertain his whereabouts had failed 1 A man with a clear conscience would not hide in that manner. Finally he must say that he considered the prosecution had taken matters too much for granted in regard to the alibi, which he thought anything but satisfactory, and justice required more thorough search to be made for the missing man than the time and means at his disposal had permitted him to make. Had the Counsel closed his speech at this point it might have been better for his client. But in the conscientious desire to leave no argument un- urged, he wished to give an explanation of the embarrassment exhibited by the prisoner when first confronted with the Mayor, on which the latter had laid great stress as a proof of guilt. He admitted that it looked as if the Priest were at least privy to the crime, and might be accounted for by his having been acquainted with it. He then in a lengthy speech, described the way in which, in consequence of a confession made to him, a Priest might acquire the knowledge of a crime, and yet be unable even indirectly to reveal it. His client had of course not given him a hint as to this being so -in the present instance, yet he could not help surmising it to be the case, as this supposition 250 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFP^SSION. alone would explain all that now appeared unintelligible. At any rate it was a possible solution, and he begged the gentlemen of the jury to take it into serious consideration in pronouncing their verdict. He related the story of the Polish Priest, which bore so singular a resemblance to the case before them, and which was no fiction, but an incident which occurred quite recently, reported in all the public papers. He asked the jury therefore to beware lest they should inadvertently condemn as a common murderer one who was a victim to the sacred duties and solemn obligations of the priesthood. Father Montmoulin followed the latter portion of this speech with the closest attention. Hope again sprang up within him, and he secretly re- newed the vow he had made that, in case of his acquittal, he would, with the permission of his superiors, enter a Missionary Order. But the reply of the Prosecutor blighted all his hopes. Mr. Joubert rose to his feet almost before his opponent had uttered the last word. Some excitement was visible in his manner as he indignantly repelled the imputation of having neglected to take any step which could in the remotest degree further the interests of justice. No means had been left untried, he said, in order to find and produce the sacristan Loser, for he knew that the defence would require his presence. Only when it became evident beyond a doubt that the man could not have been at Ste. Victoire at the time, was the fruitless attempt to trace him finally abandoned. He then cast bitter scorn on the seal of confession, of which !

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 251

mention had just been made in the theory pro- pounded by the defence, declaring it to be at variance with the canons of equity and the law of the land. The instance adduced by his learned colleague bore the stamp of falsehood, but even granting it to be true, no one could see any analogy between that and the present case as regarded Loser. Loser, who was known not to have been to confession for many years, and whom, for that very reason the clergy had endeavoured to oust from his post; could it be credited that so "stub- born a sinner" having committed so heinous a crime, would have crawled with blood on his hands to the foot of the cross 1 Credat Judaeus Apella Rather than admit such a supposition as that, he would believe in the intervention of preternatural agency, and declare with the devout old cook, that the devil had conveyed the sacristan to the spot to commit the murder, and then hurled him body and soul into hell! After this sally, which provoked an outburst of laughter, the Prosecutor proceeded gravely to describe Loser, whom the clergy abused and perse- cuted, as an enlightened and most respectable man, a thorough patriot, who had risked his life and shed his blood in the defence of his country. He was one of the little band of heroes who on a bitterly cold January night in 1871, succeeded, in a district occupied by the enemy, in blowing up the bridge of Fontenay — a deed which might have resulted in the destruction of the hostile army, had there been a leader capable of following up this advantage. And this was the man on whom the ;!

252 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

Counsel for the defence almost at hap-hazard — or perhaps on the principle: the end justifies the means—was determined to affix the charge of murder "And as for the argument whereon the defence mainly rests : Such a man could not be guilty of such a crime, it is valueless ; for one may reverse it, and draw from it this conclusion : The man who has committed such a crime, who is proved to have committed it, is not the saint which the Coun- sel for the defence would make out the prisoner to be, but an impostor, a hypocrite, from whose countenance the mask has been torn. And as such he stands before us—behold him, when I cast this accusation in his teeth, an accusation which would arouse the indignation of every man of honour.

What does he do ? He turns up the whites of his eyes, he looks sweetly at the crucifix, as if to say: Lord, I thank Thee that I am not as these sinners, who calumniate Thy servants ! — I have done : I have nothing more to add but this : Gentlemen of the jury, do your duty.'jyC The Prosecutor had spoken fluently and ably he had carried his hearers with him, especially when he spoke of Loser as one of the heroes of Fontenay, he woke an echo in the heart of every lover of his country. Meunier felt that he was defeated; he replied in a few sentences, reiterating his former arguments, and asserting that with all his rhetoric, more befitting a demagogue than a barrister, the Prosecutor had actually disproved nothing. Now, as before, there was really nothing to support the charge, except the testimony of one railway guard, who was supposed to be infallible. A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 253

He emphatically denied the statement that the seal of confession was morally wrong, because it was

contrary to the civil law ; for the divine law was above human law. The Prosecutor had scoffed at the example of the Polish priest, but for all his sarcasm he could not show it to be fictitious. And as for the laurels Loser professed to have won on the battle field, far be it from him to pluck one leaf away, only it must be acknowledged that a sharp- shooter of the Yosges, who boasted of the blood he had shed, was a more likely person to have done the deed in question than a peaceful, law-abiding Priest. (Here there was a disturbance in the gallery, quickly silenced by the President). Fin- ally, his client had been denounced as a hypocrite, and his heroic courage, his truly christian behaviour during the whole of this terrible period of trial, pronounced to be mere deceit. Had matters come to such a pass in France, that a man in deep affliction, whose honour and whose life were at stake, could not breathe a prayer, or look to Heaven for help, without encountering mockery and scorn? Never in the course of his experience, he could confidently assent, had he seen a prisoner who bore so completely the stamp of innocence as the prisoner at the bar. It might be expected of him, in conclusion, to urge some plea which might dispose the jury to clemency. It would be easy to do so ; he need but remind them of the aged and heartbroken mother, who, if her son were condemned to death, .would lose in him the staff of her declining years. But he would not enter on this theme, as he would be acting contrary to the expressed wish of the pri- 254 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. soner. "I do not ask compassion of my judges, but simple justice. Life and liberty would be worthless to me, unless I was fully and freely acquitted of the charge brought against me." Such were the words the accused had addressed to him, and all that remained for him on his part to say was this : Gentlemen of the jury, weigh what you have heard in the scales of justice, and there is no doubt that you will fully and freely acquit the prisoner. Mr. Meunier then bowed to the President of the

Court, to intimate that his task was ended ; and the President forthwith proposed to the jury the question to which they had to return an affirmative or negative answer: Is the prisoner at the bar guilty of the crime of murder laid to his charge 1 He then addressed a brief exhortation to the jury, and they retired to consider their verdict. The judges also withdrew, and the prisoner was removed to a place of solitary confinement. A hot discussion immediately commenced in the stranger's gallery concerning the prospects of the accused. Some considered his guilt as proved, others relucts utly admitted it, because of the absence of any one else who could have committed the murder. The reference to the incident at Fon- tenay during the Franco-German war, was a happy hit on the part of the Prosecutor, as it gave Loser a place amongst the military heroes of. that unfortunate period. Joubert was universally acknowledged to have pleaded his cause with far more ability than Meunier yet the victory of the former ; was, as a man who had some acquaintance with legal matters informed Mrs. Lenoir, not yet certain. ;

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 255

For the (*) law provided that if all the judges present were of opinion that the decision of the jury was erroneous, the prisoner might be tried again at the next Assizes before another jury. Or, if the jury gave the verdict of guilty by a majority of one only, the judges were to vote, and reckon their votes with those of the jury, whence it might happen that the prisoner whom the jury had condemned on the majority of one vote might be acquitted. Half an hour had passed, when the bell was heard which announced that the jury had come to a decision. Instantly the hum of voices caused the judges resumed their seats, the jury reentered their box. The President addressed to the jury the customary question, to which the foreman replied: "We find the prisoner guilty of wilful murder, with robbery.' 7 "How did the votes stand V J "Eight for the verdict and four against it." A murmur ran through the Court. All doubt was now at an end. Had the votes been seven against five, the votes of the judges might have turned the scale in the prisoner's favour. One of the judges voted with the majority, and consequently no alternative was left to the Presiding judge but to pass sentence on the prisoner. Father Montmoulin was conducted back into the Court, and the clerk announced to him the verdict of the jury. The President then asked him whether he had anything to allege wherefore the sentence of death should not be passed on him. He replied

(*) Code* d' instruction Criminelle, Art. 352. 256 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. with the same composure and resignation that had characterized him from the outset : "I have nothing to say against the verdict. I forgive all who have taken part in passing it. I die innocent." The President then read aloud article 302 of the Penal Code, and declared Francis Montmoulin here present, Parish Priest of Ste. Victoire, to be guilty of murder with robbery, and in accordance with the enactments of the law of the land, he was condemned to die by beheadal. The time and place for the execution of the sentence would be fixed later on. The prisoner listened to the sentence of condemnation with unruffled serenity, and almost with gladness of heart. He raised his eyes to heaven, and in a low tone uttered the ejaculation, Deo gra- tias! In the stillness that prevailed, some persons who were near caught the words, and a voice shouted: Hypocrite, assassin that you are! The President instantly called for silence, and severely censured the utterer of those opprobrious epithets. He next spoke a few words of warning to all present, and exhorted the prisoner to accept the verdict submissively and tranquilly, and prepare himself for death. He then declared the trial to be at an end, and the Court rose. As the President, accompanied by two of his inferior judges was descending the flight of steps leading to the street, he said in a grave, almost sorrowful tone: "I am sorely afraid that we have condemned an innocent man to death." "So am I," answered one of those with him. "At any rate the evidence of his guilt appeared to !

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 257 me anything but conclusive. These trials by jury have their weak side, when the jurymen are haran- gued as was the case with them today." ''Human justice is not infallible," said the other. "One must be content if one has done one's duty, and observed all the legal forms." Meanwhile the prison-van drove back to the prison, followed by a rabble shouting, Hypocrite, Murderer! The mother of the condemned man heard this outburst of vulgar spite in her cell in the house of detention. She listened, and caught these words, uttered by a passer-by: "They have sentenced him to death ; he will be guillotined, I dare say not later than next week." It was what she had expected. But yet what a terrible blow? What a sword of sorrow pierced her maternal heart at that moment CHAPTER XX.

Once more in the Rue de la Colombe.

On Good Friday Mrs. Montmoulin and her daughter were released from detention, as the Pro- secutor deemed it unwise, seeing how little ground there was for suspicion, to prefer a charge against them, for inquiry had in fact been advantageous rather than disadvantageous to them. "The Pri- soner,' 7 he said to the magistrate who made the examination of the case, "must have concealed the stolen money somewhere in the old building, or perhaps buried it in the garden. Either he has told his mother already where it is hidden, or he will do so at the last interview before his execution. Let the old woman and her daughter be strictly watched, and believe me, before very long you will have the evidence of their complicity, which is now wanting, marked out before you as plain as can be." The period of detention, combined with anxiety about her children, and heart-rending suspense concerning her brother's fate, had quite undermined Mrs. Jardinier's health. Her hair had become grey, and grief had traced deep lines on her kind and comely countenance. As to her aged mother, she was so broken down as to appear almost decrepit. On hearing that she was to be set at liberty, she could only throw her arms round her daughter's neck and between her sobs ejaculate

' the words : 'My son — your brother — condemned to death!" (258) "

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 259

u "O mother," the daughter replied, he is less to be pitied than we are. All will soon be over for him, but for all the remainder of our lives we shall be branded with the mark of his shame. —What is to become of us ? "How can you think of us/' the mother an-

swered, "it will be with us as God pleases. Blit- he, a Priest, condemned to death as a murderer!" "He will die innocent. But how are we to get along with this disgrace attaching to us 1 How am I to keep and educate my poor children'?" The Governor and other prison officials who witnessed this scene were evidently touched, though they were pretty well hardened to tears and lamentations. The Governor endeavoured to console the unhappy women by informing them that the prisoner bore himself with serene, almost cheerful resignation. "And after all," he continued, "the guillotine is by no means a painful death, not nearly so much so as many a natural death. How one sees poor creatures writhing in agony on their beds, until death comes to deliver them from their sufferings. Now with the guillotine it is one, two, three; a man is strapped to the plank, pushed under the beam, down comes the knife, and before he has time to think about it, all is over. Hullo, what have I said % the old lady has fainted ; bring some water quick, and a glass of wine." When Mrs. Montmoulin had recovered, she still felt so weak that a cab had to be fetched to take her and her daughter to their home in the Eue de la Colombe. On the way they stopped at the house of the kind baker, who had been so charitable as 260 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. to take the children in, to inform their good friends of their release from prison. The children were at church, and Mrs. Lenoir invited their mother to come in and await their return. But she declined, saying her aged mother was so unwell, that they had better go home at once, and asking her to send the children as soon as they came back. With heartfelt thanks for the great kindness that had been shown them, the two women went on their way to the home they had left a month before, the key of which had been given to them when they left the prison. When they got there all looked desolate enough. Mrs. Jardinier made her mother lie down on the couch in the sitting-room, while she opened the windows and took down the shutters, so as to let light and air once more into the rooms. Then she hastened into the kitchen to light the fire, in order to make a cup of tea for her mother. — But when she looked around there was nothing of all she wanted. In the shop the x^olice had turned every thing upside down. In the money-box there were only a few shillings, and the poor woman did not know what to do. Now for the first time she realized the full extent of the calamity which had come upon them through her brother's misfortune. They would lose all their friends, all their customers, for who would frequent the society or come to the shop of the sister of a priest who had been executed? She would be ashamed to look anyone in the face. She wanted all manner of provisions —a little wine for her mother, but she could not resolve to show herself out of doors. People would A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 261 point the finger of scorn at her in the street. And then the money she had on hand was barely sufficient for present needs. Who would in future let the sister of a felon have the necessaries of life on credit? Overcome by a sense of her misery, the poor woman sat down on a chair in the shop, and covering her face with her hands wept bitterly. Her mother heard her in the adjacent room, and calling her, attempted to comfort and encourage her. "We must bear the cross with Francis, my dear child," she said. "Remember this is Good Friday; Easter will come in its turn." "There will be no Easter for us again on earth," her daughter answered amid her sobs. "Who knows but there may"?" rejoined the mother. "And if not, think how short time is compared with eternity. What if here on earth we have to bear the cross and shame with our Lord and His Saints, all will soon be over!" "I would sooner have died with him. It would have been easier than to bear the misery and disgrace that his death brings upon us and our innocent children. It is more than I have strength to endure!" and her tears burst forth afresh. She had dried her eyes and set to work again, when the door opened and in came Mrs. Lenoir, bringing the two children, and a large, well-filled basket. "There children," she said, as she set the basket down, "go and comfort your mother and grandmother, and if I can be of any service, you just come round and tell me." Then she turned to the two women, and expressed her sympathy in a few kind words. Before bidding them goodbye 262 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

she promised to come again that evening or the next morning, and bring a bottle of old Bordeaux, which she said was the medicine Mrs. Montmoulin most needed. "Do not thank me," she concluded. "It has been such a pleasure to have the children with me, that I feel myself the obliged party." So saying the good little woman slipped away, thinking her friends would rather be alone just then, and also because she could scarcely restrain her feelings on seeing what a sad plight they were in. \.For meeting the children again under such circumstances was almost more pain to them than pleasure. "O Mother, how old you have got!" Julia exclaimed. "You look almost as old as grandmother, your hair is quite grey. And grandmother's hair has turned perfectly white." "I wonder my hair has not turned white," Charles gravely remarked. "They say anxiety changes its colour, and I have been in the greatest anxiety about Uncle and all of you the whole time." The two women could not help smiling at this, and the boy's mother said he was now relieved of a great part of his anxiety. Then she busied herself with Julia's help in getting the dinner. In the basket Mrs. Lenoir had brought they found everything that was wanted. The children ate the simple meal with great appetite, but their mother could hardly swallow a morsel. For many years she had struggled to keep herself, and it went hard with her to be beholden to the charity of a baker 7 s wife. During dinner Charles gave an account of his visit to the President of the Court of Justice, A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 263 and announced his intention of paying him another visit, to beg him not to have his uncle executed. But his mother told him he must not think of taking such a liberty ; besides the Judge could not alter a sentence that was once passed. By this time it had become known in the neigh- bourhood that the mother and sister of the condemned Priest had been released from detention, and had returned home. They appear to have had no part in the crime, said some. Others shook their heads and said nothing had been proved against them, but one could hardly believe good of the mother and sister of a Priest who had been found guilty of murder and robbery. Many however felt for them the profoundest compassion. But all were curious to see the neighbours after their return, and hear what they had to say about the execution. Thus under one pretext or another all found their way to the modest house in the Rue de la Colombe. Some expressed their sympathy with the clergyman who was unjustly condemned, or with the relatives who had to suffer on his account through no fault of their own. But whilst they spoke thus, their cold and contemptuous looks be- lied their words, and showed the true feelings that actuated them. Others repeated what they had heard this one or that say about the unfortunate Priest and his relatives, while they professed to be themselves convinced of his innocence, and only wanted to know if it was quite certain that he would be executed. One can imagine what Mrs. Jardinier felt when '

264 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. questioned on this painful subject by these heartless people. At length she could stand it no longer, and withdrew to the room where her mother was lying down to rest, leaving her little girl to serve the customers and satisfy their curiosity. But soon she found it necessary to protect herself from their ill-timed intrusion, so she put up the shutters, and fastened a paper outside with the words: "This shop will be closed for a few days," denying herself to all visitors on the plea of her mother's indisposition. "Our position here is intolerable," she said to herself. ' 'I can remain here no longer, we must leave Aix. Yet what can I do % We must either beg or starve. Have compassion on us in our trouble, O merciful Father of the widow and orphan ! ' Towards evening two visitors came, against whom the door could not be shut. The first was Mrs. Lenoir. No one who looked at her could doubt that her sympathy was unfeigned, and she expressed it by deeds as well as by words. She took in the situation at once, and understood how severely her friends were tried. She asked Mrs.

Jardinier if she did not think it would be well for her to leave Aix for a time, until this unhappy affair had blown over. There were some relatives of hers living in Lambesc, who were good Catholics, and who she was sure would be pleased to help

Mrs. Jardinier if she could open a little business there; and she herself and her husband would willingly lend her a few pounds on very low interest, or without any interest at all. She would very much like to take the children to live with her '

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 265 permanently, as she had got very fond of them, but she thought it would be better for them to leave Aix for at least a few weeks. Mrs. Jardinier thanked the good baker's wife most gratefully, both for her past kindness, and the generous offer of help for the future ; she said she should only be too glad to escape from her present surroundings, but she feared what had happened would be known in Lambesc and indeed everywhere, and she would be shunned in consequence. Under these circumstances she could not venture to accept a loan, as she saw no probability of being able to repay it. * 'There is nothing for me," she said, "but to earn my bread by the labour of my hands. Mother is so broken down by grief, that she cannot carry the cross much longer. But the children—I know that I cannot support them if I have to go into service and yet I do not know how I shall bear being separated from them." The two friends were still in consultation when the door bell rang and almost directly Charles came in to say Father Regent was there. Mrs. Lenoir took leave at once, begging that her proposal might be thought over, and the reverend gentleman was shown into the little room. He inquired first in the kindest manner after Mrs. Montmoulin, and on hearing how very much she felt the blow, he said: "I expected that it would be so. And for you too, this trial is a very heavy burden. I should not have intruded on you in your affliction were it not that I hoped to be of some comfort to you, if only by assuring you of my heartfelt sympathy.' 266 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

He then asked if lie could see Mrs. Montmoulin,

and on Julia's being sent to ask if her grandmother Avas well enough to receive him, the old lady came down, leaning on her granddaughter's arm, for she said she could not trouble so honoured a visitor to climb the steep stairs to her little room. Father Eegent began by telling her that he and all his clerical brethren were fully and entirely convinced of her son's innocence, nor had the Archbishop the least doubt on the subject. They all took the deepest interest in the fate of the unfortunate prisoner, and also in what concerned his mother and sister personally. For himself, he said, he was persuaded that Father Montmoulin was not only innocent of the crime laid to his charge, he had not the slightest doubt that he was unable to clear himself because the obligations of his sacred office sealed his lips.

How it was, he could only conjecture, as he knew nothing for certain, but he could confidently assert that if his friend — her son — were put to death through this unjust sentence, he would die a martyr's death and the crown of martyrdom would be awarded to him. Though his fellow-men might regard him as a murderer, the day would surely come when earthly shame would be changed into heavenly glory, and a cruel death would open to him the gates of eternal life. Then the pious Priest spoke to them of Him who for our sake was unjustly condemned and put to a cruel and ignominious death, a death of expiation which they commemorated on that very day in common with the whole Church. His words, inspired by faith and charity, fell like soothing '

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 267

balm on their wounded hearts ; with tears in their eyes they thanked him for the solace he had afforded them, and they promised to bear the suffering and shame that must be their portion patiently in imi- tation of their crucified Lord. After this Father Kegent spoke of the future, and Mrs. Jardinier told him how dark a prospect it offered. "I thought," he replied, "that after what had occurred it would be impossible for you to remain in Aix. But do not be downhearted. I spoke to the good old Priest of La Grange about you, and he said I was to ask you if you would like to go to him as his housekeeper; and as his presbytery is large, he would allow your mother to occupy a small room in it. I think it would be the very thing for you ; talk it over, you need not decide today. As for the children, you must make up your mind to part with them, almost all parents must, when they send their children to school. I hope to get Julia taken free by the Sisters of St. Joseph at Aries, a good education will be given her there, suitable to her station. And my little friend Charles, of whom his teachers give an excellent report, would doubtless be delighted to go to the Missionary training college at Marseilles. He is too young, but at a word from the Archbishop an exception will be made in his favour. What

' do you say to this proposal % What could the two women say, but that they were truly grateful to the kind Priest. The children too, when they were called, were delighted witH the prospect. Julia said she would go anywhere, so long as she could go out of Aix, for she 268 A YICTI51 TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. was ashamed to be seen out of doors. Charles said he should be a missionary very soon, and being at Marseilles, he told his mother, he would be able to embark on one of the ships going out to the West Indies whenever his Superior considered him to be sufficiently prepared. Just as Father Kegent rose to take leave, Mr. Meunier, the solicitor, came in. He begged the kind Priest to stay a few moments longer, as he was very desirous to hear what he thought about a matter which he had to lay before the two ladies.

The matter was this : Mr. Meunier stated that after consulting Father Montmoulin, and asking the opinion of some of his colleagues, he had decided against appealing to a higher Court, as it would probably be useless, and would involve great expense. Father Montmoulin had negatived the proposal most emphatically. If the appeal were granted, he said, I should have to appear again in Court, and that I have no wish to do. It is high time that nothing more should be said or written about this scandal with which I am connected. A fresh trial, if an adverse sentence were given, as is most probable, would only give the affair greater publicity and greater importance^ I will not speak of the torture that a second trial would inflict on me. I would rather die than appeal against the verdict ; circumstances render it a matter of impossibility to prove my innocence. Some weight may perhaps be attached to my assertion when on the scaffold. "That," Mr. Meunier continued, "is what our poor friend said, and I really think he is right. T asked him if he would ' ' :

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 269 not petition for a pardon, we could get many sig- natures here and in the neighborhood. He would not hear of this, but I have come to hear what you say to it, and 1 consider myself very fortunate to have found Father Eegent here, as I should certainly have gone to ask his opinion." Father Eegent said he should like to hear first what Mrs. Montmoulin thought about the suggestion. After a moment's reflection, she said : "If the pardon were granted, what would be done with

' my son f The solicitor shrugged his shoulders, and said

"Of course he would not be executed, and if his life were spared, we might hope that some fortunate chance might render his innocence apparent. Any- thing is better than death." "Would he be imprisoned for life?" again inquired the mother. "I hardly think that," Mr. Meunier replied. "It is most likely that his sentence would be commuted to penal servitude for life, or transportation." "To see my son in a convict's dress, dragging a chain, with fetters on his wrists, doing the hardest most degrading work with a gang of the lowest convicts, and hear people pointing him out as a priest, is more than I could bear. No, it would be worse than death for my Francis. I do not call that a pardon. What do you say, daughter: should you like to meet your brother in the streets under such conditions 1 '

"No, Mother, I think as you do about it. We will not petition for a pardon, especially as Francis himself does not wish it." 270 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

"I should not wish it in his place," Father Regent said. "As I told you, I look upon his as a martyr's death. Who would refuse the crown when it is placed almost within his grasp f " uFroni what Father Montmoulin said to me," the solicitor rejoined, "he appears to take the same view as his mother. Very well, as your Reverence approves of the refusal to appeal, we will abandon the idea, and not avert, or postpone the sacrifice of which her son is the innocent victim." CHAPTEE XXI.

A fresh and a heavier Cross.

The Easter festival was over, and the rest of Easter week had run its course. The prisoner in the condemned cell was prepared for death and daily, hourly, he expected the announcement that his sentence was to be carried out on the morrow. He was perfectly calm and resigned to his fate. The warders declared that they had never known a man under sentence of death look forward with

so little dread to his last hour ; with such an utter absence of either braggadocio and feigned bravery, or fainthearted despondency: of abuse of judge and jury, or stoical indifference, or again of com- plaining and lamentation. His demeanour was grave, and he spent a great deal of time in prayer, but he was not melancholy ; on the contrary, he seemed to possess inward peace and even joy, in- comprehensible to the prison warders. Could they have looked into his soul they would have seen that though nature shrunk from the manner of the death awaiting him, the cause of it filled his heart with consolation. "I die a victim of my sacerdotal obligations,' 7 he said to himself. "My death will be regarded by the Church as equivalent to martyrdom, like that of St. John Xepomucene. The Church teaches that such a death washes away sin and removes the penalty of sin, and that the individual whose

(271) 272 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

privilege it is to suffer it, receives the crown of a martyr and enters immediately upon eternal felicity. Regarded in tlie light of faith I am the happiest of

mortals ; I only fear that I am not worthy of this supreme happiness." Such were Father Montmoulin's dispositions subsequent to his condemnation. He offered to

God the sacrifice of his life, and prayed that it might be accepted. It was more the hope of obtaining this glorious crown than dread of a convict's life that actuated him in his unqualified rejection of Meunier's suggestion that he should petition for a pardon. The lawyer guessed the reason, and did not press him further. So did Father Regent. "I understand your motive," he said, "and should do the same in your place. You are not bound to take steps to avert a death which will be attended with such great blessings for you." This utterance of the venerable Priest was a real consolation to Father Montmoulin, as it re-

lieved his mind of a scruple which he had felt till then. He had a yet greater consolation in receiving Holy Communion, which Father Regent obtained permission to bring him several times. It was also a comfort to hear that his mother and sister had been set at liberty, and that their maintenance was provided for. He could now look forward tranquilly to the solemn hour when he should pass from the scaffold to the tribunal of the Great Judge, who knew his spotless innocence. Low Sunday came, and the poor Priest in his prison cell could not think without a pang of the A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 273 children whom he had been preparing for their First Commiiion. He would never see them again, he said to himself. And what would they think of him ? And the other members of his flock, would they really believe that their pastor was guilty of murder and theft! He asked for writing materials, and wrote a touching letter to those who were making their First Communion and all his parish-

ioners ; a letter which he desired to be read, if the Archbishop consented, on the Sunday after his execution. He also wrote to the Archbishop, to his dear friend Father Regent, and to the solicitor who defended him, expressing his gratitude to them and bidding them farewell. Finally he wrote a farewell letter to his mother and sister, begging them to spare him and themselves the anguish of a last interview. Death would not separate him from them in spirit, and instead a painful parting on earth, they should look forward to a joyful reunion hereafter. This letter he wished to be delivered at once ; the others after his execution. On the following morning the prisoner was handcuffed and conducted from his cell into a larger apartment. "Is it for execution V he asked the warders who came to fetch him, turning very pale. They replied that he would know presently. Father Montmoulin found the officers of justice assembled in the room to which he was taken. The clerk of the Court again read the sentence of death; he then said that, as the fixed time allowed for petitioning for a reprieve or a pardon had expired, the sentence now had the force of law. The Presi- dent next inquired of the prisoner whether his not 274 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. haviDg appealed against his sentence was to be regarded as a tacit acknowledgment of its justice. Against this the Priest emphatically protested, solemnly asserverating his complete innocence. He was perfectly willing to allow, he said, that his judges had acted in good faith and had been mis- lead by circumstantial evidence through no fault of their own. But at any rate now, when he could no longer have any hope of saving his life by denying the truth, when he was in fact about to appear before the judge who cannot be deceived, they might believe his protestation that he died innocent. The calm and innocent manner in which he pronounced these words made a perceptible impression even upon the Public Prosecutor. After a brief pause, the President drew a document from his pocket, explaining that with the unanimous concurrence of his colleagues upon the Bench, the majority of whom were of opinion that the guilt of the prisoner was not fully proved, and in consideration of the previous blameless life of the condemned man, he had thought it his duty to memorialize the Home Secretary on his behalf. His representations had had the desired effect, and the sentence of death was commuted to penal servitude for life, and transportation to New Caledonia. The clerk would read the pardon, and the fresh sentence, now in force, to the prisoner. But Father Montmoulin, who had listened un- moved to the sentence of death, was seen to change colour, and stagger as if he had received a blow. He would have fallen, had not one of the warders quickly stepped to his side and steadied him. They " :

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 275

were obliged to let him sit down for a few minutes to recover himself; at length he so far regained his composure as to stammer forth a few words of thanks to the President for the trouble he had given himself on his behalf. "But whether this service that you have rendered me, my lord, is really a boon, God only knows," he added. "I thought to lay down my cross tomorrow, or even

today ; and now a yet heavier one is laid on my shoulders, one which I must bear for it may be many years to come." The Judge looked astonished and somewhat embarrassed. Addressing his colleagues, he said "This is the first time in all my experience that a prisoner condemned to death did not wish for a pardon. I do not think he is bound to accept it,

so if the prisoner p refers death— Father Montmoulin interrupted him. "I think I am bound to accept the pardon, because I am innocent, and life and death are in my hands. Were I guilty I should desire the utmost rigor of the law as a means of expiating my crime. As it is, I believe I ought not to refuse the prolongation

of life which is offered to me, however heavy a

burden it may be." The President and the inferior Judges discussed this point, and agreed that the prisoner was right. At the. same time they felt more than ever convinced of his innocence. A guilty man would have been

overjoyed at obtaining a pardon ; at any rate, it was out of question that anyone would dissimu-

late . so far as to feign indifference. But their private opinion could do nothing to alter an ac- 276 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. complished fact. The verdict could only be reversed by another trial, and this would only be granted on the ground of new and incontrovertible evidence of the prisoner's innocence. Such evidence was not forthcoming. So the President once more asked the question : "Prisoner, do you accept the pardon offered you?" "I believe my duty requires me to accept it." "Let the prisoner be handed over to the Gover- nor of the prison that the sentence of transportation may be carried out according to law." The order was written out by the clerk, signed Dy the President, and stamped with the seal of the Court of Justice, to be delivered to the Governor. A sergeant of justice was deputed to accompany the prisoner to Marseilles, whence a vessel was to sail in the course of the week carrying convicts to New Caledonia. Father Montmoulin bowed to the officers of the law, and trembling in every limb, followed the sergeant to an apartment where he was ordered to strip off his clothes, and put on the convict's dress. Despite his entreaty he was obliged to do this with the sergeant and one of the warders looking on. Tears rose to his eyes as he took off his cassock. It was taken from him and tossed contemptuously into a corner. "There," the sergeant said, "we will give you a neat twill jacket instead of that black scare- crow thing." The linen Father Mont- moulin had to put on bore the convict stamp, and the number by which he was thenceforward to be known. "Your name is not Montmoulin any ' '

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 277 longer," they said to him, "it is number 5,348, and lest you should forget it, it is marked on every article of your clothing. We had a rascal here from Paris who always pulled off his jacket if anyone asked him his number, saying : I have no memory for figures you can look for yourself. ; What is that you got on your shoulders'?" "It is my scapular."

"Off with it. I never in my life saw such a tiling on a convict." Therewith the man rudely pulled the consecrated pledge of Our Lady's protection out of the Priest's hand. "Now on Avith the striped jacket. What a fine fellow your Reverence looks in it! Only your beard is a little stubbly still. Anything more you want?" "I am under the obligation of reciting the Brev- iary every day, so I must ask you to let me keep the one I have." The man laughed loudly. "I like that!" he said. "What next! Perhaps you. would like to say Mass every day, and preach a sermon to your saintly comrades. It might be useful to them. Set your delicate conscience at rest you will not ; see the inside of a Breviary again, and as for what you are pleased to call your priestly functions, you may say goodbye to that tomfoolery forever and a day ! ' "I beg you will not speak so disrespectfully of the sacerdotal office," Father Moutmoulin rejoined indignantly. "What the deuce! Just hear him! He thinks one ought to treat the like of him with respect!

Are you ready now % ' "

278 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

"I am ready to own that appearances are against me," the prisoner sorrowfully replied; he then added in a tone of humble entreaty: "I may at least take my rosary with me, I have said it every day since my First Communion." "Nothing of the sort! The rules do not allow convicts to take anything with them." "It is also a remembrance of my poor mother— The warder, who had grown quite fond of the prisoner while under his charge, here somewhat timidly interposed : "You may just as well let him keep the toy, Mr. Sergeant, he can do no harm to himself or anybody else with it."

1 "What business is that of yours ? He shall not take rubbish with him. Now put on his handcuffs, and the prescribed fetters on his ankles, while I go and see if the State carriage is ready for his Majesty." So saying, the sergeant left the room. The warder seized the rosary and thrust it into Father Montmoulin's pocket. "You shall not be deprived of the thing, if it will be a comfort to you," he said kindly, "even if it costs me my place. As true as I stand here, I believe you innocent of the crime for which you are condemned. Forgive me for putting these fetters on your legs, I cannot help it. I trust it will not be reckoned to me as a sin, because my calling obliges me to treat a Priest in this way." "You need have no fears on that score, my good man," Father Montmoulin replied, "God will reward you for the kindness you have shown me.

Oblige me, if you can, by taking my farewell greet- ing to my mother and sister in the Eue de la A VICTIM TO THE REAL OF CONFESSION. 279

Colombe. It seems as if I was to be hurried away so soon that I shall not have a chance of seeing them again. It is perhaps better that it should be so. How it would grieve my poor mother to see me in these clothes. Please tell them I shall remember them every day in my prayers.' 7 The entrance of the sergeant put an end to the conversation. Father Montmoulin was conducted into the presence of the Governor, who read the rules aloud to him, and warned him that in case he should make his escape, and be taken again on French territory, he would be publicly branded, and condemned to compulsory labour for life. He was then taken by an escort of police to the prison van; one constable got in with him, the sergeant mounted the box by the driver, and away they went out of the prison courtyard to the railway station. The news that the Priest had been pardoned, and was to be removed to Marseilles, soon got abroad in the town, and a crowd of the lowest of the people collected at the station to indulge in a few parting insults, since they could no longer hope to see him on the scaffold. When the prison van drew up outside the station, it was greeted with groans and hisses. The police had some difficulty in getting the prisoner out in safety. "String him up to the nearest lamp-post," the people shrieked, and a shower of stones was flung at the unoffending clergyman. One stone, thrown by a street arab, struck him in the face, so that the blood began to flow; the police were obliged to hurry him into the building by a side door, and across the platform to the carriage awaiting him, 280 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. before the doors were opened to the public. A basin of water had. to be fetched to wash the blood off his face ; it chanced that the guard who brought it was the very man who at the trial had tendered evidence so disastrous to the prisoner, namely that the sacristan had gone off by train on that momentous night. The man started when he recognized the Priest. "Sir, I said what I certainly believed to be the truth at the time," he said. "Since then I have had misgivings, I may have been mistaken. For- give me, if my evidence injured your cause." "I have forgiven you and everyone else long ago," Father Montmoulin replied, holding out his hand to the man. The train soon started on its way. Through the iron bars of the narrow window of the compartment set apart for the transport of convicts, in which Father Montmoulin travelled, he saw the towers of Aix once more, and behind them the rocky heights of Ste. Yictoire, at the foot of which his own parish lay, which, as he thought, he was never to behold again in this life.

He felt as if his heart would break, so overwhelming was his grief. Till now, since he received the pardon, he had not had time to think over and realize his fate. Now he could do so undisturbed, for the sergeant opposite him sat silent, smoking a short pipe. He had imagined all so different for himself ; the short passage to the scaffold, the last absolution pronounced by the priest as he ascended the steps, a final declaration of his innocence be-

fore the assembled multitude ; then a quick, almost A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 281 painless death, and after that the entrance upon eternal felicity, on which the teaching of the Church permitted him confidently to count. And now, on account of this miserable pardon, just as he thought he was nearing the haven of peace, he was flung back amid the tempestuous waves of the ocean of life. And what a life! "Unhappy man that I am," he said to himself, "I was not worthy of the glorious crown towards which I presumptuously ventured to

7 stretch out my hand.' . For the first time he fully realized the awful burden which the seal of confession lays on a priest. He felt it in his case to be intolerable, and a kind of desperation came over him. With all the force that faith gave him he endeavoured to struggle against it ; and though his will was steadfast during this storm of temptation, he could not help feeling its terrible bitterness. Everything seemed to him a disgust and a weari- ness, and the wish arose within his soul : "Would that some accident would happen to this train-, and all could be ended, once and forever!" But the devout Priest checked this involuntary thought, and exclaimed with St. Peter: "Lord

! ' save me, or I perish ' And then he had recourse to prayer. In this dark night of desolation bor- dering on despair, the words of the Psalmist rose to his lips ; the cry of a soul in dire distress, sorrowful even unto death. "Out of the depths I

have cried to thee, O Lord ; Lord hear my voice. Let thine ears be attentive to the voice of my supplication." "Save me, Q God ; for the waters are come in, even unto my soul. I stick fast in the ;

282 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

mire of the deep ; and there is no sure standing. I am come into the depths of the sea ; and a tempest hath overwhelmed me. I have laboured with crying; my jaws are become hoarse; my eyes have failed while I hope in my God." Gradually peace returned to the troubled soul.

The temptation departed, grace conquered ; and Father Montmoulin was able to make this farther oblation of himself to God. It did not become easy, nor was it bereft of its exceeding bitterness but it was rendered less djjfccult, less appalling, by the remembrance of the Eedeemer, who for our sakes drank to its dregs the chalice of suffering, and endured the cruel death of the cross. OHAPTEB XXII.

New Caledonia.

Father Montmoulin had not represented his lot to himself in very brilliant colours on the way to

Marseilles ; but on arriving there, he found the reality far worse than he anticipated. In the prison at Marseilles, where he remained a few days awaiting the departure of the ship, he had a foretaste of what he would have to endure on the voyage. Till then he had been in solitary confinement, and nothing had interrupted his thoughts and prayers. Here he was penned in a common room with over a hundred other convicts, and was not alone for a single moment. And what company was he in ! The scum of society : thieves, burglars, forgers, murderers, anarchists—the lowest and vilest of mankind. Even the sight of all these countenances bearing the stamp of vice and moral degradation was painful in the extreme. And then to hear their filthy conversation, the oaths and blasphemies whereby they gave utterance to their hatred of God and man! With the quick perception of the criminal, his fellow convicts knew instantly that the fresh arrival who, pale and horror-struck, was thrust in among them, was not one of them. Consequently everyone felt him to be an enemy.

. "Hullo!" cried a brutal-looking fellow from

Lyons, who had killed his wife in a fit of intoxica- (283) "

284 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. tion, staring at him with vulgar curiosity, "what a sweet creature we have got here! Look at his smooth hands, I bet he has never earned twopence in all his life! And look at his face! It is like the saints one sees in the prayerbooks ! "It makes me sick to see him," interposed a burglar from Toulon, "he smells of incense and wax candles! Deuce take me if he is not a sacristan or even—" "A priest, sure enough!" exclaimed a Paris pickpocket, who had got behind the new comer. "Do you not see the place where his tonsure has been? What a joke! His Eeverence shall preach some of his sermons to us, and sing a High mass for our benefit." "A priest, a parson! " they roared and shouted. One began to bawl a requiem, another knelt down and began a mock confession for the entertainment of his fellows, saying such horrid things that the Priest, in shocked astonishment, put his fingers to his ears; others inquired of him what good work he had done, to be rewarded with the honour of their society. In a word, the oaths and revilings on all sides resembled nothing, the unhappy Vicar of Ste. Yictoire thought, but the torture a lost soul endures in the company of the damned. "This is hell upon earth," he said to himself with a shudder. He spent five days in the prison at Marseilles before the convicts were embarked on board the transport ship Durance. Chained together in couples, they marched through the streets, with a strong escort of police, down to the harbour. On a victim: to the seal of confession. 285 the way thither, Father Montmoulin saw a priest with whom he was acquainted, coining out of a church. The Priest scanned the ranks of the convicts as they filed past him with a sorrowful expression ; he was evidently looking to see if the Priest of Ste. Victoire was among them, for his supposed crime and his pardon were known far and wide by means of the daily papers. At length his eyes fell on the object of his search ; he recognized him more through his timid, shamefaced demeanour than from his features, for the calamity that had overtaken him had altered and aged him sadly. The Priest's countenance changed, and he raised his hands with a gesture of dismay. A blush of shame dyed Father Montiuoulin' s cheeks ;

he cast down his eyes ; that was the last expression of sympathy that he would meet with for many a long day. On board the Durance the convicts were con- fined in the hold, packed closely together, and chained at their benches to rings in the side of the vessel. As long as the vessel remained in the harbour they were not allowed to go on deck. Fancy all these men full of hatred and every evil passion, shut up together in this narrow, and almost dark space! And when after many weary hours had elapsed, the engine began to throb and the screw to revolve, and the steamer, getting into open water began to roll as the waves, driven by a stiff southwest wind, broke against its sides, sea sick- ness, miserable enough under any circumstances, made itself felt in the crowded hold, the state of things became deplorable indeed. What Father 286 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

Montmoulin had to suffer in the company of those degraded criminals beggars description. Happily, after a few days of almost insufferable misery, calmer weather set in, and the convicts were allowed to go on deck for at least several hours. The Durance had passed through the Isthmus of Suez, and was steaming south down the Eed Sea. The heat increased day by day, and in the hold of the steamer it was hardly to be borne. Whenever the order was given to the prisoners to go back to that ill-ventilated, unsavory place of confinement, Father Montmoulin felt as if he could endure his lot no longer. Already three of his unfortunate fellow- sufferers had thrown themselves overboard, in order to escape from their misery, and if the Priest's faith in God, the sole disposer of life and death, and his belief in a life to come had been less firmly rooted, he also would have scarcely been able to resist the temptation of self- destruction. Presently, when the vessel had reached the Indian Ocean, and was pursuing its course over the wide expanse of waters towards the south coast of Australia, Father Montmoulin became seriously ill, so that the ship's doctor ordered him to have a better berth assigned him, apart from the other convicts. For weeks he hovered between life and death in high fever. The doctor watching by his side when he was delirious, was astonished at the pure and pious fancies that flitted across the dis- eased brain of his patient. He thought he was preaching in his parish church on the subject of the seal of the confessional ; or he was catechising :

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 287 the school children, and again confession and the secrecy to be observed was the theme of his instruc-

tions ; or he was talking to his mother with filial affection and simplicity ; once in his wanderings he fancied himself in Court, and cried excitedly "They will condemn me, and I cannot, I dare -not say who did it." The doctor felt convinced that the man was innocent, and intimated as much to the Captain, very emphatically. The Captain shrugged his shoulders, and said: "Number 5,348 is the parish priest of Ste. Victoire, who was tried for murder. I read the whole account of the trial in the Figaro, and no doubt of his guilt was left on my mind. I confess it seems highly improbable that a man could keep up the part of a deceiver in a state of delirium. But granted that he were innocent, we could do nothing to alter his lot. You could not induce a Court of Justice in France to try the case over again on your psychological grounds." "But we ought perhaps do something to make his lot less hard," the doctor replied. "I can do nothing. I have the command of the ship, and I do not meddle in other men's business. If you chose, you can speak to the Commandant of the jail on the island, to whom I have to hand over the convicts, but I warn you, you will do so at the risk of being laughed to scorn." Then the Captain turned on his heel, and went off to his own cabin. The Durance was nearing the straits which separate the southeast point of Australia from Tasmania. They had got in sight of Cape Wilson, 288 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. which stretches far out into the wide passage, when Father Montmoulin, leaning on the doctor's arm, once more came up on deck. "Is that the coast of my future home?" he asked with a melancholy smile. "That is the most southerly point of Australia. We are a good distance from New Caledonia yet. I thought for some time, you would not reach your destination, but your strong constitution conquered. How do you feel in this invigorating sea breeze?" "Much better, thank you. But for your kind care I should now be lying at the bottom of the blue water." "And you think it would be all the better for you if you had died? I can understand your feelings." "I think it is all for the best as God has or-

dained ; but I cannot deny that listening only to the voice of nature, I should infinitely prefer death to my present lot."

' 'Yet I am glad that I succeeded in pulling you through," the doctor rejoined. "The fact is I believe in your innocence, and I trust it may be made apparent some day." The prisoner's countenance brightened. "God bless you for saying that," he replied, pressing the doctor's hand gratefully. "It is the first word of human sympathy that I have heard for weeks. I cannot venture to entertain the hope of obtaining justice on earth, but I look forward to it all the more confidently hereafter." The doctor turned away, to hide the emotion that these words awoke within his breast. In common with many other medical students he had A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 289

made shipwreck of his faith through the pernicious teaching of unbelieving lecturers. Now he was compelled to acknowledge that there was something sublime in the courage wherewith belief in the justice of God and in the immortality of the soul inspired a man. What would an unbeliever have done in the place of this priest % he asked himself. He would long ago have made away with himself in utter despair. Could Father Montmoulin have foreseen that his patient endurance was the germ which ulti- mately bore fruit in the doctor's conversion, that knowledge would have given him far more pleasure than the kind words that were addressed to him. Onwards sped the Durance, now in a north- easterly direction, and ere long the mountain heights of New Caledonia appeared on the horizon. On the fiftieth day of the voyage the white foam that marked the coral reefs surrounding the island became visible. At a signal from the steamer a tiny boat came tossing on the waves, bearing the pilot, who was to guide the vessel through the dangerous entrance to the harbour, and before long the Durance cast anchor in the roadstead between the j)eninsular Duclos and the island of Nu. The

convicts were all marshalled upon the deck ; Father Montmoulin took his place among them, in irons like the meanest. On the beach the barracks of the convict's prison stood in long rows, covered to right and left by the cannon of the forts, while the barren hills of the little island rose in the background. To the left, behind the bay in which lies Porte de France, 290 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

the chief town of New Caledonia, which was not discernible from the ship, the rocky summits of the large island rose to the clouds. A tropical sun poured its dazzling beams on this unfamiliar landscape, and even the most degraded criminal could not repress a sigh, as the thought rose in his mind how far his home was left behind. Father Mont- moulin, at any rate, felt this keenly, when the vision of his country and all who were dear to him rose up before him, and he realized that half a hemisphere separated him from them, and he could not hope ever to see them again. There was no time however to indulge in melancholy reflections just then. The Commandant of the island of Nu came on board, to take the convicts over into his charge. He inspected each one singly, man by man, or rather number by number, and No. 5,348 came in his turn. "This convict was very ill on the voyage," the ship's doctor remarked. "He does not appear to be accustomed to hard labour. I should advise his being given work in the hospital, for a time at

least." Then he added, dropping his voice : "He

is a priest, and I fully believe him to be innocent."- The Commandant knitted his brows angrily,

and said frigidly : "Number 5,348 will receive the same treatment as the other convicts. Those who have been pronounced guilty by the verdict of the French courts of justice, we consider to be guilty. A priest who disgraces his sacred office has the least claim of anyone to lenient treatment. I shall have him examined by the medical official at the hospital, and act according to his rej)ort." A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 291

After this speech, which was uttered in a lower tone, but every word of which reached Father Montinoulin's ear, as he stood by the Commandant, the latter turned to the convicts, and said in a loud voice: " Attention! I give you all to understand that you have not been sent over here from France in order that you may live in idleness at the expense of the State, and I promise you, that if one of you fails to conform to the strict regulations of the place, I will lead him the life of a dog. He shall be put out in the sun, hands and feet chained together, till he thinks he is in a frying pan. Do you understand? But those who are docile and willing to work, will have it made easier to them. So you can choose for yourselves. One thing more: It may occur to some of you, as it has to others before now, to make an attempt to escape. Now I tell you as a warning : First, all the sentries carry loaded muskets and have orders to shoot down any convict who is out of bounds. Secondly, the nearest land lies thousands of miles away to the west; and how any man can swim from this shore to that, without a boat and without provisions, is his lookont, not mine. Thirdly, there is the interior of the island, from which some skilful swimmers have at times contrived to make good their escape. Well, I wish a pleasant voyage to those who imitate them. Most of the fugitives were eaten by the cannibals, the others came back to the coast in a pitiable state of starvation, and gave themselves up at one or other of the French stations. I can assure you the reception they met with took away all desire to make another little holiday trip. Do you all understand? Right about, march!" 292 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

The Durance now lay alongside the landing- place, and the convicts marched one by one, under military escort, past the Commandant to the barracks, which were shut in by high pallisades. There more than a thousand convicts were to sleep on the bare boards. Some who happened to be on the spot when the new arrivals marched in, greeted them with morose, scornful looks, and muttered curses. And when evening came, and the whole body of the convicts already on the island, who during the day had been at work in companies in the gardens and on the public build- ings, under the surveillance of the guards, returned to their quarters, and discovered the unwelcome accession to their numbers, occasioning a further restriction of elbow-room and breathing-space, a regular storm broke out. There was an outcry of anger and spite such as only those who were hardened in vice and crime were capable of exhibiting, and scenes similar to that which marked Father Montmoulin's entrance into the prison at Marseilles were enacted. "His Reverence" was singled out as a special object of persecution, and even some of the warders did not scruple to manifest their hatred of religion, by victimising the innocent minister of religion who was now in their power. And this life — this hell on earth — would last on and on ; for how many years ? The head physician, who examined No. 5,348, saw no reason why he should be exempted from the general rule. Consequently the next morning Father Montmoulin had to shoulder a spade, and accompany a detachment of convicts who were inak- A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 293 ing a road up to the top of the highest hill, where a post of observation was established. Even the sturdiest labourers, horny-handed sons of toil, long- accustomed to the use of spade and pick axe, could scarcely stand the hard labour under the scorching- sun of the tropics. The first day proved almost too much for Father Montmoulin panting with ; fatigue, bathed in perspiration, with bleeding- hands he returned in the evening to the barracks, too utterly exhausted to eat more than a mouthful of the coarse fare — some ill-cooked yams—provided for the convicts' supper. Aching in every limb, he stretched himself on the hard planks that formed his bed, and it was long ere he found relief in sleep. The rosary, which he managed to recite unobserved, while muttered execrations were heard around, was his only solace. When on the following morning the bugle-call sounded, and he had to get up and turn out, and with blistered hands resume his toilsome labours, he comforted himself with the thought that this sort of thing could not lafcjfc very long; a merciful fever would surely soon deliver him out of his misery.

But it was not so. Every day he was better able to bear the life to which he was condemned. His vigorous constitution accustomed itself to the climate and to the hard labour, and he fared better in this respect than some men of stronger build, whose health had been undermined by an irregular life. When the rainy season set in, he had several attacks of fever, and was obliged to go into the infirmary for a few days, where the Sisters of St. Joseph from Cluny acted as nurses. But his 294 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. recovery was rapid, so rapid in fact, that his cherished wish, to receive Holy Communion, was not fulfilled. He confided to one of the Sisters the fact that he was a Priest, but she had so often been deceived by convicts, that she had learnt not to believe what they said of themselves. How could it be possible that a priest should be sentenced to transportation with the lowest criminals, she asked herself, turning away incredulous and annoyed from the side of the sunburnt man with the untrimmed beard. Father Montmoulin was greatly pained to find the Eeligious did not credit his statement. ''I belong now to the off-scouring of the earth, the outcast of the people," he said to himself. "I must learn to submit to my fate, and renounce all hope as far as this world is concerned." "When a year had gone by, Number 5,348 was sent with some other numbers to the east coast of New Caledonia to work in the copper mines of Balaad. Week after week and month after month Father Montmoulin wheeled his barrow full of the ore that had been dug out during the day to the crushing mills. A second year passed away ; he no longer kept account of the weeks and months. The third year of his exile was already far advanced on its course ; he had ceased to think of any change or amelioration of his lot as possible. Many of his companions in misfortune had died, and been buried privately on the outskirts of the primeval forest. When would he too be laid to rest beneath the wide- spreading banyan tree, whose branches overshadowed the grass-grown mounds which no cross marked 1 One wish alone remained in his heart: that one of the Marist missionaries in "

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 295

Balaad would visit him when his end drew nigh and administer the last sacraments to him. But even of this there seemed little prospect. There was no lack of zeal on the part of the missionaries, they would gladly have hastened, though the distance was considerable, to the bedside of

each or any of the convicts ; but neither the guard nor attendants on the sick would take the trouble to send all the way to the Mission house. Determined to make an effort to ensure for himself this last privilege. Father Montmoulin found an opportunity of speaking to a native Christian, vdio was employed in the crushing mills. By means of signs more than words, he made him understand that he wanted him secretly to procure for him a pencil and paper, promising to give the native, if he would execute this commission, a few copper coins which from time to time had been allowed him for tobacco, as the reward of good behaviour. Upon the scrap of paper thus obtained, Father Montmoulin wrote a few lines in Latin, addressed to the Superior of the Mission, entreating him for the love of God to assist in his last moments a dying priest, who, known as number 5,348, was amongst the convicts at work in the copper mines. "Now," he said to himself, "if I am again laid low by fever, surely someone will for the sake of the pence I shall save up for the purpose, be found willing to take this note to the Marist Fathers, and then I shall await my last hour in peace. Or will the sacrifice, which the seal of confession requires of me, extend so far as to oblige one even at the moment of death to forego the consolation of receiving the last sacraments 1 It must be as God wills ! '

CHAPTEE XXIII.

An unexpected visitor.

In the meantime Father Montmoulin and the trial that excited so much interest in Aix, were well nigh forgotten. Events succeed each other so rapidly now-a-days, and in three years' time so much happens, that a nine days' wonder is soon over and gone. Even the anti-clerical journals seemed to have consigned to oblivion the scandalous occurrence at Ste. Yictoire. On a cold stormy evening in February, 1891, the solicitor Meunier was working by lamplight in his office at a law suit concerning some right of way, a tedious and tiresome litigation, which he had to bring into Court a few days later. After a glance at the window, against which the wind was driving a shower of snow and frozen rain, the solicitor was just putting together his papers, pre- paratory to leaving off work, when the office boy entered and announced that a stranger wanted to see him on urgent business. "A stranger at this time and in this weather!" Meunier exclaimed in surprise. "What is his name 1 ' "He would not tell his name Sir," the boy replied. Then he added, "If I were you Sir, I would not let him in. He is fairly well-dressed, but there is something so strange and wild in his manner."

(296) A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 297

Mr. Meunier lighted a cigarette, and stood for a minute irresolute, without answering. Then he decided that it would be best to see the man. "Show him in," he said to the servant, "but do you stay within call, in case I should want you." Then he stationed himself on the hearthrug, with his back to the fire, awaiting his visitor. The stranger entered in an evident state of excitement. As he advanced into the room, and the light fell upon his countenance, the solicitor started involuntarily. "I believe you are the lawyer who defended the Priest of Ste. Victoire in the law-courts three years ago, are you not?" the stranger inquired, as he stood twisting about a grey felt hat nervously in his hands. "I am, Sir: at your service. And I fancy I know who you are, although, as far as I am aware, I have never seen you before," Mr. Meunier replied. "I daresay you do. The sabre-cut across my face makes me a marked man. Yes, I am the sacristan Loser, whom you vainly endeavoured to trace." The solicitor did not utter a syllable. He looked at the pale, agitated face of the man before him, and saw from the working of his features the force of the struggle that was going on within his breast. He guessed that he had come with the purpose of making a confession. For a few minutes not a sound was heard but the crackling of the logs, the ticking of the clock, and the rattling of the hail upon the window panes. At length Meunier broke the silence. "You wish to tell me something, Mr.

Loser, I think," he said gravely. 298 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

"Yes, that is what I have come for all the way fro in Valparaiso in South America. And now that I am here, I cannot bring myself to say it." The man stopped short, and wiped the perspiration from his temples. Then in a hoarse voice he jerked out the words: "The Priest is innocent. It was I that did it." It cost him an immense effort to utter these words ; as soon as the strain was removed, he burst into convulsive sobs. Mr. Meunier pushed a chair towards him, and Loser dropped into it, utterly broken down ; it was a long time before he could recover himself sufficiently to answer the questions addressed to him. In fact the solicitor felt some doubt as to whether he was in his right mind. "Have you come over from South America with the purpose of making this confession ? "What was the motive that induced you to do so? " he inquired. "To make reparation, to make atonement," groaned Loser. "It leaves me no peace!" The solicitor thought of the terrible fate which he had been unable to avert from the innocent priest and the members of his family, merely through his inability to trace this man, who now sat before him, and who, as it appeared to him, had done his very utmost to cast the guilt of his bloody crime on one who was blameless. His heart swelled with just indignation. Then again he could not resist a feeling of sincere compassion for the wretched criminal, tormented by the stings of conscience, who declared himself desirous to make all the reparation within his power. These two feelings struggled for the mastery within his '

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 299 breast. At length he said, not unkindly, but with

l an accent of reproach : 'Unfortunately you come rather late with your self -accusation. How will you atone for all the misery that you have brought upon the unhappy Father Montmoulin, and his aged mother?" Loser sprang to his feet and wrung his hands. "Good God!" he exclaimed, "is not that what I say to myself by day and by night! Have pity on me Sir. I know that I cannot undo the past, but I can expiate my crime by laying my head upon the block." Compassion got the upper hand in the solicitor's mind. He stretched out his hand to his visitor, and said : "Pardon me. I did not mean to wound you. Besides, you can make satisfaction in what is most important. Father Montmoulin was not executed, thank God! As far as I know, he is still alive in New Caledonia. His mother and sister also are both living. And the terrible scandal that the whole affair caused, the shame attaching to Father Montmoulin' s name will be removed by your confession. If only you could have resolved to do this act of justice sooner, when the innocent man was undergoing his trial ! ' "Indeed, it never occurred to me for a moment that the suspicion of murder would fall on Father Montmoulin," Loser replied. "I was on board ship, on the way to Buenos Ayres, while the case was being tried here. Besides I thought for certain, that he would at any rate, when it came to that, say that he had seen me, or even that I had been to confession to him ; in fact I believed it most 300 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

likely that he would not consider the seal of confession binding on him in regard to a penitent who had sought safety in flight. And for the matter of that, I persuaded myself that what the clergy preached about the secrecy of the confessional was all idle talk, and confession itself only invented by them as a means of obtaining influence. I had read so much of that sort of thing in bad books and infidel papers. That is what I thought then, and I blamed myself for having been such a fool as to go to confession in the first access of terror and agitation produced by the fatal deed of which I was guilty." "Then it was as Father Begentand I surmised. Father Montmoulin was made a victim to the seal of confession ! " Mr. Meunier exclaimed. "Yes, he was a victim to the seal of confession," Loser replied iu a sorrowful tone. "It was the knowledge of that fact that brought me to a better mind, and made me resolve to offer reparation and make amends for my crime. I will tell you how it came about." Then Loser began a lengthy narrative, to which the lawyer listened with ever-increasing interest. He told how he had made good his escape, taking his passage on board a vessel bound for Buenos Ayres. On arriving at the port, he was sorely afraid of being recognized by the scar on his face, and arrested by the police ; for he had little doubt that Father Montmoulin would, either directly or indirectly, have indicated him to the authorities as the probable murderer. But to his astonishment no one said a word to him, and he at once joined a party of Italian emigrants, who were going across a victim: to the seal of confession. 301 the Pampas to the silver-mines of Potosi in Bolivia.

Phenomenal luck attended him ; the funds wherewith he started were multiplied tenfold, but no accession of wealth brought peace and content to his mind. After journeying to and fro he crossed the Andes, and purchased a hacienda near Valpa-

raiso ; for he felt satisfied that his crime, of which he had heard nothing more, was long ago passed oat of mind, and thus he could under an assumed name, enjoy the proceeds of his theft without dread of a sword hanging over him. He was however mistaken; the blood he had shed cried aloud for vengeance, and gave him no rest. Nothing afforded him any pleasure ; not the fine estate, charmingly situated with a view of the beautiful bay of Valpa- raiso and the snow-crowned summits of the Andes; nor the splendid horses reared on his pastures, nor the moneys his manager brought in to him, nor the large dividends he received on the sums he had invested in the saltpetre mines of Tarapaca — in none of these things could he take real pleasure. After a time, he bethought himself of a plan whereby he could learn the truth concerning the consequences of his crime, in order, as he told himself, to set his mind at rest once for all. Accordingly he wrote under a false name to a well- known house of business in Aix, ordering a box of the dried plums for which Provence is famous, to be sent out to him, at the same time requesting that copies of the "Provence Gazette" for the last three years might be enclosed in the chest, and charged for with the goods. He wished, he wrote, while enjoying the delicious fruits of his native 302 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. country in a distant land, to revive happy memories of the past, and learn what had occurred there during his three years of exile. The merchant to whom he addressed the letter was pleased to comply with the request, as he believed he was doing a kindness to a fellow-countryman on the other side the Atlantic. "Two days before Christmas," Loser went on, "the case arrived. I locked myself into my room with the bundle of old newspapers and soon looked out the date of the momentous 20th February. In the next number there was the first report of the murder at Ste. Victoire, and the arrest of the parish Priest. I laid down the paper in consternation. In the following issues column after column was filled with mockery and abuse of the zealous pastor of Ste. Victoire, the chief grounds of suspicion against him being enumerated. The arrest of his mother and sister was also mentioned. Presently I came upon the most important part of the proceedings, the trial — it occupied twelve closely printed columns — with trembling eagerness I looked for the verdict—there it was. Condemned to death! My head swam; my senses seemed to desert me. You cannot conceive Sir, how this sentence cut me to the quick. I do not know how long I paced up and down the room before I could collect myself sufficiently to read through the trial. Midnight

struck before I laid the paper down. So it was actually true ; Father Montmoulin had not uttered a syllable that might reveal what I confessed to him, he had not so much as let it be known that I :

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 303

had been to confession to hiin, nay, be did not even own to having seen me that night! And all this because in his excessive conscientiousness, he feared lest he should in the slightest degree violate his duty as a Priest. It appeared to me that he never attempted in any way to shift the suspicion from his own shoulders to mine. He kept silence, although his silence entailed ignominy and death on himself, the cruellest grief on his mother, and would be the occasion of terrible scandal to untold numbers! All this forced itself upon me, as I read through the long account of the legal proceedings. When I had finished, I felt positively crashed with

shame and remorse ; I cried bitterly. Presently I turned to the newspapers again, m order to read the end of the matter. There were endless articles about the trial, and a great deal that was uncomplimentary was said of you, Sir, as the Counsel for the defence, and the failure of your attempt to exculpate your client by suggesting that he was probably pledged to secrecy by the obligations of the confessional, as had been recently the case with a Priest in Poland. And after all you were correct in your surmise! Other articles followed, making use of this affair at Ste. Yictoire to serve the ends of the anti-clerical party, casting contempt on the Church and her ministers. Fin- ally in turning over the pages these words in large type caught my eye The Ste. Victoire tragedy. Pardon of the murderer.

For a moment I breathed freely ; but alas, on looking farther I saw that the pardon only meant 304 A VICTIM OF THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. that the sentence of death was commuted to transportation for life. A description followed of the conduct of the prisoner, who had to exchange his priestly cassock for a convict's jacket, and of his embarcation on board the Durance for his life-long exile. I read it through to the end. By the time I had finished day was breaking, and I heard the cocks crowing in the grey dawn. I resolved to act promptly. I selected the newspapers which gave an account of the trial and the pardon, and folding them up carefully, I put them into an envelope and slipped them into the breast pocket of my coat. Then I took two thousand gold pesetas out of my cash-box, called the manager, as soon as I heard him stirring, gave him my orders, and without losing a moment, mounted my horse and rode over to the Jesuits' house in Valparaiso. I asked for the Kector, who I knew understood French, and to him I acknowledged my crime, begging him to assist me in expiating it. He entered into my feelings most kindly and compassionately ; he helped me to examine my conscience and prepared me to make a general confession of my past life. This took a long time, but it brought ease to my conscience, and the hope of forgiveness ; and this hope in the mercy of God encouraged me to perse- vere in my determination to do all within my power to make amends for my dreadful crime. The Priest of course made me promise to spare no effort to get the unjust sentence reversed, and the innocent prisoner liberated and his name cleared ; to restore the stolen money, and make compensation as far as possible to the relatives of the Priest A VICTIM OF THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 305 for all they had suffered. Above all the sad scandal that had been given must be removed. Not until I made a formal deposition in writing concerning the murder in Ste. Victoire, and signed it in the presence of a notary, did he give me absolution. Immediately after the Christmas, which I passed in the House of the Fathers, I made my will, disposing of my property in case of my death, and started on my way home, choosing the overland route as the quickest and safest. I reached Buenos Ayres just in time to catch the steamer which was leaving for Bordeaux. Yesterday we landed, and I came straight on here by train; my first inquiry was for your residence, Sir, as I had seen your name as the Counsel for the unhappy Priest. So here I am, ready to make amends and atonement to the utmost of my power. 7 ' Mr. Meunier had listened with rapt attention to this lengthy narrative. At its close, he pressed

Loser's hand and said : "In spite of your past errors, I cannot help respecting you for what you have done. I regard you now as my client, and I assure you your confession will be safe with me. You did well to come to me first of all. We will certainly have all amends made as far as possible, but more need not be done than is necessary. You shake your head? Just hear me out. It will be quite easy to make restitution of the stolen money and compensate the Montmoulin family for the pecuniary loss they have sustained, you have only to write a cheque on the Valparaiso bank • and leave it .in my hands. A reversal of the sentence can also be obtained, by means of which Father Mont- 306 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. moulin will regain his liberty, and be acquitted of all stain on liis character, without your appearing in Court in person. You simply have to sign a confession of your crime, which I will draw up. Asa precaution I will have your signature attested by two witnesses, but they need know nothing of the contents of the document to which you append your name. As soon as that is done, you can return to Chili by the next steamer, sell your estate and go off to North America or to Australia under an assumed name. I will see that you have time to get clear off, out of the reach of the law, before your deposition is laid before the authorities. The case will then be tried again, and the second hearing is certain to result in Father Montmoulin's acquittal. 1 ' Loser smiled sadly, as he answered: "My confessor in Valparaiso said just the same to me. He expressly told me that I was by no means bound to give myself up to justice, at the risk of being sentenced to death. It would be quite enough if I consented that my declaration, witnessed by the notary, were sent in to the judge. But that seemed rather a shabby thing to do. Father Montmoulin acted most generously towards me, though he was only fulfilling the obligations of his office. And then I thought the blood of the poor defenceless old lady, which I shed in such a brutal way, called for a more complete expiation of my crime. Be- sides, would not my personal evidence, given in public, do far more to obtain the acquittal of the prisoner who was so unjustly condemned, and by making a greater impression, contribute more to "

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 307 reinstate him in public opinion, than any written confession could do ! I said all this to my confessor, and he agreed with me. Therefore I begged him to keep my deposition, and in case I should repent of my resolution, or any accident should happen to me, after a fixed time to forward it to Aix. Then I set out on my journey hither." "Have you never since that time repented of

? ' your resolution ' the solicitor inquired. "I cannot deny that I have wavered several times. But reading the trial over again always confirmed me in the determination I had taken." "There is very little doubt that the verdict against you will be wilful murder, and you will be sentenced to death— "I expect nothing else." "The most favourable sentence we could look for would condemn you to the hard lot of a convict —penal servitude for life." "Through my sin Father Montmoulin has had

to endure that lot for nearly three years ; it is high time that I get his chains taken off, so we will if you please, not delay a single day longer." ' k This is then your free, deliberate determination?"

"I had time enough and to spare, to think it all over on the voyage. I beg you not to put my constancy to a fresh and painful trial, nor to postpone Father AEontinouliu's release for one hour longer than can be helped." "You are right. So let it be. May God give you strength to bear the weight of expiation, which you have voluntarily taken upon yourself." 308 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

Mr. Meunier himself accompanied the repentant criminal to the Police station, where he gave himself up to the astonished Commissioner of Police who was on duty at the time. By a curious coin- cidence, this man happened to be one of the Police agents who had gone with the examining magistrate to institute the inquiry at Ste. Victoire, and who had apprehended Father Montmoulin. "Mr. Superintendant," Meunier said to him, "I am sure that you will treat this gentleman, who has come all the way from South America to deliver himself up to justice, with the utmost leniency that the law allows." i 'Let me have the same treatment that the innocent Priest had," Loser said, in a voice of quiet resignation. Meunier took a friendly leave of him, and hastened away to the residence of the President, Mr. Justice Peultier. "It is Wednesday, " he said to himself, "so I shall find the Prosecutor Joubert and some other Justices there, I know they meet on this evening every week for a game of cards. There is ten striking! I hope I shall not be too late." He got there precisely at the right moment. The cards had been thrown down, and the friends were about to disperse, when Meunier was announced. The gentlemen, who had risen to depart, looked at each other and at him in questioning surprise. The new-comer apologized for intruding

upon the President at so unsuitable an hour ; he did so, he said, because he had something of great importance to communicate to them. The other gentlemen would perhaps kindly remain and hear '

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 309

what a singular thing had occurred. He then repeated the story he had just heard from Loser's lips. The lawyers listened with profound and growing interest, as was shown by the attention they paid to the narrator, and the questions which now and again one or other of them addressed to him. The Public Prosecutor remembered how ruth- lessly he had pilloried the unfortunate criminal, and regretted his sharp speeches. "You are quite convinced of the man's sanity? " he inquired, when Meunier had ended his narrative. "As sure as I have ever been of any man's," was the reply. "Heaven be thanked," exclaimed the President, "that I bestirred myself to get a pardon for Mont- moulin. We can now hope to be able to do something for him. That is to say if the poor fellow has not succumbed to the horrid climate, and the fearful hardships of a convict's life in the penal settlements." "At any rate the case must be tried over again on account of this confession," said one of the Judges. "Yes, of course," Joubert replied. "To-morrow morning I shall cross-examine this fellow Loser, and in my report recommend a revision of the proceedings. '

"And after looking through it I shall instantly apply to the Home Secretary, to have the man who was so wrongfully condemned cabled for to New Caledonia. In how long could we expect to get him back V said the President. "It would take several months, at any rate," Meunier answered. 310 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

"The telegraphic communication stops short at Brisbane in Australia. The telegram would have to be carried to Port de France by the next steamer touching at that port. Our unhappy friend may he at one of the farthest stations on the larger island, and then the journey. back would take five or six weeks." "Well, that will give us abundance of time to get everything ready, so that the case may be brought for a second time into Court immediately upon his arrival, and the wrong which has unfortunately been done him may as far as possible be set right. The fatal thing was that at the first judicial inquiry circumstances all seemed to point to him as the perpetrator of the crime, so that despite the able defence of our talented colleague here, there was from the outset little hope of an acquittal." "If the unhappy Prie'st had either when before the examining magistrate or in Court, given the least hint that the sacristan had been with him after the crime was committed, he would not have been condemned!" exclaimed the Public Prosecutor. "As the man went to confession to him, lie considered himself bound to deny having seen him." Meunier answered. "Father Montmoulin is truly a victim to the seal of confession." CHAPTER XXIV.

At home again.

On the morning of the next day, Loser repeated his self-accusation in presence of the Public Prose- cutor, and his deposition was sent in to the Minister of Justice the same day. A cablegram was forthwith sent to the Governor of Port -de- France, ordering him immediately to strike number 5348, Francis Montmoulin by name, off the roll of convicts, and send him, as a first-class passenger by the next ship that was sailing for France. He was wanted to appear at a new trial, since the real perpetrator of the crime for which he had been wrongfully condemned, had given himself up to justice. The message did not reach the Governor of New Caledonia for about a fortnight, as no steamer was leaving Brisbane for Port-de-France until some days after its arrival. The orders it contained were forwarded without delay to the

Commandant of the island ; but number 5348 was hundreds of miles away, at work in the copper mines in the north-eastern division of the larger island. A coasting-vessel was at once despatched to bear the joyful tidings to the convict, but several weeks elapsed before Father Montmoulin learned that he was to return to his country, and that the restitution of his good name, of his liberty, of the right to exercise his sacerdotal functions was in store for him. He could hardly believe this to be (311) 312 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. true when he heard of it; he sat down and cried like a child for very joy of heart. The Superior and some of the Marist Fathers from the Mission at Balaad, as soon as the news reached them, hastened to congratulate the Priest, of whose presence among the convicts they had till then been ignorant, on his release and the vindica- tion of his innocence. They brought with them a cassock, in order that he might exchange the convict's garb for a more befitting habiliment. With feelings of the deepest gratitude to Almighty God Father Montmoulin once more put on the clerical garment, and repaired to the simple little Mission chapel, to offer the Holy Sacrifice for the first time for more than three years. The good Marist Fathers sympathized in his joy, and the native convicts, to whom they explained, as well as they could, the severe trial that the "holy man" had undergone, pressed round him to kiss the hands that were hardened by toilsome labour, and to ask for his blessing. And then, accompanied by the good wishes and prayers of missioners and convicts, he set out on the long, long voyage homeward, over a wide stretch of the Pacific, over the Indian ocean, through the Eed sea. But as he neared the coast of Europe, and the shores of his native land, an element of anxiety, of dread, began to mingle more and more in his happy anticipation, his eager longing. How would it all end % Would his innocence be fully, indubitably proved % He was still a condemned convict, under the surveillance of an agent of the police, who accompanied him. And his aged mother % Would he find her still alive, re- A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 313 joicing to welcome back her dearly- loved Francis, once more free and acquitted of all stain, or would trouble and anguish of heart have brought her grey hairs in sorrow to the grave % No, she was yet living, and awaiting with anxious expectancy the arrival of the steamer that had her son on board. On the day following that upon which Loser had so suddenly re-appeared, Mr. Meunier had gone over to La Grange, to acquaint the venerable Father, under whose hospitable roof Father Montmoulin's mother and sister had found a home, with the jo3^ful intelligence that their friend's character would now be cleared of reproach in the sight of all men. The old Priest called his housekeeper, Mrs. Jardinier, and communicated to her the gladsome tidings ; then they both went to her mother's room, to prepare her to hear the good news. But before they could speak, the delight that beamed from their countenances apprised the old lady that something pleasant was to be announced to her, and her maternal affection quickly divined the message they came to bring, for what else could give her joy but good news about her son, of whom she thought day and night, for whose release she prayed day and night? "You have come to tell me something about Francis!" were the words wherewith she greeted them. "Yes, mother, the best news you can imagine," her daughter replied. "Has his innocence been proved at last?" she asked, pale and agitated. ."You have guessed aright," Mr. Meunier answered. "The real murderer has given himself 314 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. up to justice. And what is more, not only is your son's innocence fully and firmly established, but every one will now see that he was a martyr to duty, a victim to the seal of confession." "Glory be to God! Praise and thanks to His holy name," cried the aged mother, raising her hands to heaven, while her eyes brimmed over with happy tears. "Even if I never see my son again, I still say: May His holy name be praised and blessed evermore. My son's character is proved blameless, and the lamentable scandal that was given through him is changed into a triumph and glory for the priesthood." Many weeks came and went without Mrs. Mont- moulin hearing anything more of her son. In fact she did not even know whether he was living or dead. At length a telegram came from the Gover- nor of New Caledonia, to the effect, that Father Montmoulin had embarked on board the steamer "Liberty" for Europe. Mr. Meunier wrote to inform her of this, adding that the vessel might be expected in about six or seven weeks. At the end of the sixth week, the old lady could wait no longer, but must needs go to Marseilles, where a letter from the kind Priest of La Grange procured for her a friendly reception in a convent. There she had the opportunity of seeing her grandson Charles every day. He was now almost twelve years old, and quite a favourite in the Missionary College on account of his diligence and good conduct. Just then he was more than ever on his best behaviour, as he wr as preparing to make his First Communion. He had never forgotten to pray for A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 315 his uncle, and always said: "He is quite innocent, and I am sure God will make bis innocence plain.' 1 How delighted he was to hear that his prayer was granted ?

At length it was announced in the shipping news that the "Liberty" had left the Suez canal, and would probably enter the harbour of Marseilles in four or five days. On hearing this Mrs. Jardi- nier, having previously fetched her daughter from Aries, repaired to Marseilles, as did also Mr. Meu- nier, Father Begent, and several of the clergy; so that when the "Liberty" steamed into port, there was a goodly group of old friends assembled on the quay to welcome the home-coming Priest. As soon as the vessel cast anchor, they hastened on board, and the Captain conducted Father Mont- moulin to them. All stood aside respectfully, while he embraced his aged mother, his sister and her children. Tears filled the eyes of all the bystanders who witnessed the touching scene. The joy of meeting again was not unmingled with grief; for both mother and son read in each other's countenance at a glance how grievously each had suffered in the three years that were past; the mother had become a feeble, tottering old Avoman, and the son's hair was prematurely thin and grey. "What does it matter," he said when his mother had expressed her regret at this change, "what does it matter if my hair turns grey ten years sooner or later % My arms and hands are all the stronger," he added with a smile. The mother kissed the consecrated hands, now roughened and hardened by compulsory labour, 316 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

and said : "You are right, what does anything matter now that God has turned all to good ; let us give Him thanks ! Only do not grow proud through all the praise and notice that will be showered on you, in return for the shame and reproach of the last three years." Then the Priest caught sight of his venerable friend Father Kegent, and others whom he knew and loved ; he went up to them, and shook them heartily by the hand, but he was too much agitated to reply to their kind speeches otherwise than by a few broken sentences of grateful acknowledgement. Mr. Meunier handed him an official document, summoning him to appear in Court on Monday of the next week, and at the same time formally restoring him to liberty. A similar notification was delivered to the Police agent, who was in charge of him. That official withdrew at once, amid polite excuses, and Father Montmoulin was free to leave the steamer with his friends. Accompanied by them, he climbed the hill whereon stands the sanctuary of Notre Dame de la Garde; a place of pilgrimage whither the sailors and sea- faring inhabitants of Marseilles are wont to repair after a prosperous voyage, to give thanks to the blessed Mother of God. Before leaving the shrine, Father Montmoulin was seen to hang up beside the miraculous image a x>ortion of the manacles he wore in New Caledonia, and which he had brought away with him as a memento of the time he served there as a convict. On the following Monday, the legal proceedings were reopened in Aix. Father Montmoulin, at the pressing invitation of His Grace the Archbishop, ;

A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 317 occupied apartments in the archiepiscopal palace; and when he appeared in Court, it was in the company of the Archbishop and several of the principal ecclesiastics of the diocese. The building was crowded, more so even than it was for the trial three years before, if that could be possible. Care had been taken to reserve good places for Father Montmoulin's former parishioners. Dr. Corbillard was there, and also the Mayor, on whom recent events had made a deep and salutary impression. Seeing old Susan, he actually went so far as to offer her his hand, and ask her to forgive him, whereat the aged servant was moved to tears. "Aye, aye, Sir," she said, "we were all blind about the matter. But whoever could have thought that Loser had been to confession to him, and that he would become quite a changed man. Even Mr. Prosecutor would sooner have believed that the devil carried him to the place of the murder." Seats were reserved for Father Montmoulin's mother and sister, at their side were Charles and Julia, and at no great distance Mr. and Mrs. Lenoir had places. The little woman could not refrain from reminding her husband how sorely he had been deceived in the opinion he formed of the sacristan Loser, and that she had been right about him all along. "Thank God," answered the baker good humoredly, "that in this case you were right but that we know you always are. Now do be good enough to hold your tongue for half an hour, if you possibly can, for the lawyers are coming into Court. You shall talk as much as you like all this evening." 318 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

The proceedings did not occupy much time. As a matter of form, Father Montmoulin had to take his place in the dock. The President re-opened the case in a brief speech, in which he dwelt on the fallibility of the decisions of human justice, and expressed the gratification it gave him that a verdict, wrongfully given in consequence of delu- sive appearances, could on that day be at least in some measure set right. Loser was then brought forward ; his declaration was read aloud, and he himself cross-examined. In a clear voice, audible throughout the Court, he acknowledged his guilt, and said that he confessed the crime the same day to Father Montmoulin. This statement produced a stir among the audience, as the speaker evidently intended it to do, by the emphatic manner in which he made it. When he had ended, the President asked him what was the motive that prompted him to make this self-accusation. He answered: "partly the reproaches of my conscience, but prin- cipally the heroic devotion to duty exhibited by the clergyman, who chose rather to be condemned although innocent, in my place, than in the slightest degree to violate the seal of the confessional." Here again a murmur of applause was heard in the assembly. The Public Prosecutor rose next. In a few sentences he proposed that the Priest who had been unjustly convicted of murder should be acquitted. He also expressed his deep regret that he had taken an erroneous view of the case at the first trial, and under a false impression had thrown his weight into the wrong scale, and thus contributed to the A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 319 passing of a wrong verdict. The Counsel for the prisoner had nothing further to say on his part, he could only point to the heroic example of christian virtue given by his client. The jury withdrew, but only to return immediately and give their verdict: Not guilty. Thereupon the President solemnly annulled the previous sentence, and declared the Priest to be free and entitled to all civil rights and privileges. He too, emphasized the sacrifice which Father Montmoulin had so nobly made to his sacerdotal duty, saying he only wished that the law of the land empowered the judge to make temporal compensation to persons who had been unjustly condemned. What had occurred was due to the inevitable imperfection in the ad- ministration of justice on earth. Nothing could, in fact indemnify Father Montmoulin for the misery he had endured, the disgrace under which he had lain during the last three years. He concluded in the following admirable words : "It is cases such as these which prove to us that above and beyond the weak mortal judge, prone to err and liable to be misled, there is a supreme Judge, omniscient and almighty, at whose tribunal strict justice is meted out, and who will doubtless requite you to the full, Reverend Sir, for all that you have patiently borne for His sake." Mr. Justice Peultier had the reputation of sum- ming up well, but he had never spoken better than on this day. He awoke a sense of solemnity, almost of awe, in the hearts of all who heard him. He then went up to Father Montmoulin and shook hands with him ; all the representatives of the law 320 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. followed his example. The Prosecutor took the opportunity of publicly begging pardon of the Priest, to whom, it must be allowed, he had shown scant courtesy at the time of trial. Needless to say that the pardon was most heartily and gracefully given. Finally, the President conducted the liberated prisoner to his aged mother, who embraced her son with joy, amid the plaudits of the spectators. The Archbishop, Father Eegent, and others of the clergy also came up to their brother-priest and wished him joy. When all formalities were over, Father Mont- moulin with his mother and sister, were escorted back to the palace with quite a triumphal cortege, to take part at a banquet which his Grace gave in honour of the occasion, and to which many of his friends and well wishers had been invited. Charles and Julia were amongst the guests, besides the worthy baker and his wife, who had befriended them in the season of trial, and even for old Susan a seat was found at the table. At first the old woman felt quite out of place in such company, appearing very shy and embarrassed ; but she gradually found her appetite, and by the end of dinner under the influence of a glass of sweet mus- catel wine, she grew extremely talkative. In fact, she allowed Mr. Lenoir to re-fill her glass, until the generous, and to her unaccustomed beverage had, unawares to herself, got a little into her head; happily Mrs. Lenoir interposed at the right juncture, and took the old woman with her to her house, w7 here she administered a cup of strong- coffee to calm her somewhat excited brain. A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION. 323 with at Ste. Victoire gave him real pleasure, and it was with a heart overflowing with thankfalness that he intoned the Te Deum, standing before the high altar. Still greater was his joy and consolation, when, some days later, many members of his flock who had not approached the sacraments for years, at their head the Mayor and Dr. Corbillard, came to confession and on the following Sunday, to the great edification of all the congregation, were seen at the holy table. Then indeed did Father Montmoulin thank God with all his heart and adore the wisdom and goodness of Him who by His merciful disposal of events had caused the bitter wood of the cross to bear the sweet fruits of salvation.

What yet remains to be told ? Only that Father Montmoulin' s mother and sister went to live with him, and enjoyed a time of peace after all their troubles ; that Charles received his First Commun- ion from his uncle's hand, and then returned cheerfully to the Missionary College where he was to be prepared to enter upon his apostolic labours, and that Julia grew up to be a good-looking, pleasing girl, well-mannered and pious, but to the regret of the kind Sisters of St. Joseph, showing not a sign of a vocation to the religious life. That Mr. Meunier, acting in accordance with Loser's instructions, restored to the Guild of St. Joseph the £480 of which he had robbed them, together with the interest on that sum, so that the projected enlargement of the hospital was at last accom-

plished ; and also paid an indemnity to Mrs. Jardi- nier, whereby she and her children were placed out of the reach of want for the rest of her life. ;

324 A VICTIM TO THE SEAL OF CONFESSION.

And now there is but one thing more to mention we must not forget poor old Susan, who being past work, is allowed to live in the Presbytery as a pensioner on Father Montmoulin's bounty, nor omit to add that Mr. and Mrs. Lenoir drive over to Ste. Victoire two or three times in the course of the year. On these occasions the worthy couple do not neglect to take with them some particularly delicious specimens of the baker's skill, which are duly appreciated by the little circle of happy friends, as they chat together over a cap of excellent coffee.

A. M. D. G.

Date Due

OCT 3 f •gf NOV 31S

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