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. "There is the private soldier commanded to fall into line--is he actually responsible?" The priest hesitated. The stranger was glad; he had put the Royalist precisian in a dilemma, between the dogma of passive obedience on the one hand (for the upholders of the Monarchy maintained that obedience was the first principle of military law), and the equally important dogma which turns respect for the person of a King into a matter of religion. In the priest's indecision he was eager to see a favorable solution of the doubts which seemed to torment him. To prevent too prolonged reflection on the part of the reverend Jansenist, he added: "I should blush to offer remuneration of any kind for the funeral service which you have just performed for the repose of the King's soul and the relief of my conscience. The only possible return for something of inestimable value is an offering likewise beyond price. Will you deign, monsieur, to take my gift of a holy relic? A day will perhaps come when you will understand its value." As he spoke the stranger held out a box; it was very small and exceedingly light. The priest took it mechanically, as it were, so astonished was he by the man's solemn words, the tones of his voice, and the reverence with which he held out the gift. The two men went back together into the first room. The Sisters were waiting for them.