"An hour later I was on my way to Paris, and my father, at my request, asked an immediate audience with the Emperor. "I was received the next day. Napoleon III. was at work in a little room when we were introduced. I exposed the whole affair, even to the visit of the priest, and, in the midst of the story, the door opened behind the chair of the Emperor, and the Empress, who believed in him alone, entered. His Majesty consulted her. When she had run over the facts, she exclaimed: "'This man must be pardoned! He must, because he is innocent.' "Why should this sudden conviction of a woman so pious throw into my mind a terrible doubt? "Up to that time I had ardently desired a commutation of the sentence. And now I felt myself the puppet, the dupe of a criminal ruse, which had employed the priest and the confession as a means of defense. "I showed some hesitation to their Majesties. The Emperor remained undecided, solicited on one hand by his natural goodness, and on the other held back by the fear of allowing himself to play a miserable part; but the Empress, convinced that the priest had obeyed a divine call, repeated: 'What does it matter? It is better to spare a guilty man than to kill an innocent one.' Her advice prevailed. The penalty of death was commuted, and that of hard labor was substituted. "Some years after I heard that Moiron, whose exemplary conduct at Toulon had been made known again to the Emperor, was employed as a domestic by the director of the penitentiary. And then I heard no word of this man for a long time. "About two years after this, when I was passing the summer at the house of my cousin, De Larielle, a young priest came to me one evening, as we were sitting down to dinner, and wished to speak to me. "I told them to let him come in, and he begged me to go with him to a dying man, who desired, before all else, to see me. This had happened often, during my long career as judge, and, although I had been put aside by the Republic, I was still called upon from time to time in like circumstances. "I followed the ecclesiastic, who made me mount into a little miserable lodging, under the roof of a high house. There, upon a pallet of straw, I found a dying man, seated with his back against the wall, in order to breathe. He was a sort of grimacing skeleton, with deep, shining eyes. "When he saw me he murmured: 'You do not know me?' "'No.' "'I am Moiron.' "I shivered, but said: 'The schoolmaster?' "'Yes.' "'How is it you are here?' "'That would be too long--I haven't time--I am going to die--They brought me this curate--and as I knew you were here, I sent him for you--It is to you that I wish to confess--since you saved my life before--the other time----' "He seized with his dry hands the straw of his bed, and continued, in a rasping, bass voice: "'Here it is--I owe you the truth--to you, because it is necessary to tell it to some one before leaving the earth.