The service came to an end. The priest made a sign to the sisters, and
they withdrew. As soon as he was left alone with the stranger, he went
towards him with a grave, gentle face, and said in fatherly tones:
"My son, if your hands are stained with the blood of the royal martyr,
confide in me. There is no sin that may not be blotted out in the
sight of God by penitence as sincere and touching as yours appears to
be."
At the first words the man started with terror, in spite of himself.
Then he recovered composure, and looked quietly at the astonished
priest.
"Father," he said, and the other could not miss the tremor in his
voice, "no one is more guiltless than I of the blood shed----"
"I am bound to believe you," said the priest. He paused a moment, and
again he scrutinized his penitent. But, persisting in the idea that
the man before him was one of the members of the Convention, one of
the voters who betrayed an inviolable and anointed head to save their
own, he began again gravely:
"Remember, my son, that it is not enough to have taken no active part
in the great crime; that fact does not absolve you. The men who might
have defended the King and left their swords in their scabbards, will
have a very heavy account to render to the King of Heaven--Ah! yes,"
he added, with an eloquent shake of the head, "heavy indeed!--for by
doing nothing they became accomplices in the awful wickedness----"
"But do you think that an indirect participation will be punished?"
the stranger asked with a bewildered look.
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