"You can go home," said Jean, patting the man kindly on the shoulder. "There is no hope of a night's rest for me, after the affliction that has befallen us--I will take your place at the cauldron. Go home, my good fellow--go home." The man thanked him, and withdrew. Jean followed, and satisfied himself that the workman had really left the house. He then returned, and sat down by the boiling cauldron. Meanwhile, Louis and Thomas presented themselves at the priest's house. He had not yet retired to bed, and he received them kindly--but with the same extraordinary agitation in his face and manner which had surprised all who saw him on the previous day. The brothers were prepared beforehand with an answer, when he inquired what they wanted of him. They replied immediately that the shock of their father's horrible death had so seriously affected their aunt and their eldest sister, that it was feared the minds of both might give way, unless spiritual consolation and assistance were afforded to them that night. The unhappy priest--always faithful and self-sacrificing where the duties of his ministry were in question--at once rose to accompany the young men back to the house. He even put on his surplice, and took the crucifix with him, to impress his words of comfort all the more solemnly on the afflicted women whom he was called on to succour. Thus innocent of all suspicion of the conspiracy to which he had fallen a victim, he was taken into the room where Jean sat waiting by the cauldron of oil; and the door was locked behind him. Before he could speak, Thomas Siadoux openly avowed the truth. "It is we three who want you," he said--"not our aunt, and not our sister. If you answer our questions truly, you have nothing to fear. If you refuse----" He stopped, and looked toward Jean and the boiling cauldron. Never, at the best of times, a resolute man; deprived, since the day before, of such resources of energy as he possessed, by the mental suffering which he had undergone in secret--the unfortunate priest trembled from head to foot, as the three brothers closed round him. Louis took the crucifix from him, and held it; Thomas forced him to place his right hand on it; Jean stood in front of him and put the questions. "Our father has been brought home a murdered man," he said. "Do you know who killed him?" The priest hesitated; and the two elder brothers moved him nearer to the cauldron. "Answer us, on peril of your life," said Jean. "Say, with your hand on the blessed crucifix, do you know the man who killed our father?" "I do know him." "When did you make the discovery?" "Yesterday." "Where?" "At Toulouse." "Name the murderer." At those words, the priest closed his hand fast on the crucifix, and rallied his sinking courage. "Never!" he said firmly. "The knowledge I possess was obtained in the confessional. The secrets of the confessional are sacred. If I betray them, I commit sacrilege. I will die first!"