'The monster was quite a little woman, dainty, with very soft blue eyes, marvellously beautiful. As soon as she saw Pirot, she prettily thanked a priest who up to then had attended her, and expressed with easy grace her absolute confidence in the learned abbé. He saw at once how much she was loved by those who lived with her. When she spoke of her death, the two men and the woman burst into tears. She seemed to love them too, and was kind and gentle with them, not proud at all; she made them eat at her table. '"To be sure, sir," she said to Pirot, "you are the priest that the first president has sent to console me; it is with you that I am to pass the little that remains of life: and I have long been impatient to see you." '"I come, madam," answered Pirot, "to render you in spiritual matters what service I can. I could wish it were in any other matter than this." '"Sir," she rejoined, "we must submit to everything."' And at that moment, turning towards an Oratorian named Father de Chevigny, she said: 'Father, I am obliged to you for bringing this gentleman, and for all the other visits you have been good enough to pay me; pray God for me, I beseech you: henceforth I shall speak to scarcely any one but the father here. I have matters to discuss with him that are spoken of in secret. Farewell.' The Oratorian retired. Madame de Brinvilliers seems to have been won at the outset by the affectionate expression of her confessor, and by his sincere and sympathetic words. Judgment had not yet been pronounced. 'My death is certain,' she said; 'I must not delude myself with hope. I have to tell you the story of all my life.' But the conversation drifted away to what was being said of her in society. 'I can imagine pretty well that they are talking a good deal about me, and that I have been for some time a byword among the people.' And her eyes flashed.