“This evening, at nine. There will be no need of me till then. All depends upon the watcher. But I have chosen a pearl. I know her well.” “It was you, then, who brought this nun?” “Yes, and without your permission. Are you displeased?” “Not the least in the world. Only I confess--” “What! you make a grimace. Do your political opinions forbid your having your mother, I should say Madame Gerdy, nursed by a nun of St. Vincent?” “My dear Herve, you--” “Ah! I know what you are going to say. They are adroit, insinuating, dangerous, all that is quite true. If I had a rich old uncle whose heir I expected to be, I shouldn’t introduce one of them into his house. These good creatures are sometimes charged with strange commissions. But, what have you to fear from this one? Never mind what fools say. Money aside, these worthy sisters are the best nurses in the world. I hope you will have one when your end comes. But good-bye; I am in a hurry.” And, regardless of his professional dignity, the doctor hurried down the stairs; while Noel, full of thought, his countenance displaying the greatest anxiety, returned to Madame Gerdy. At the door of the sick-room, the nun awaited the advocate’s return. “Sir,” said she, “sir.” “You want something of me, sister?” “Sir, the servant bade me come to you for money; she has no more, and had to get credit at the chemist’s.” “Excuse me, sister,” interrupted Noel, seemingly very much vexed; “excuse me for not having anticipated your request; but you see I am rather confused.” And, taking a hundred-franc note out of his pocket-book, he laid it on the mantel piece. “Thanks, sir,” said the nun; “I will keep an account of what I spend. We always do that,” she added; “it is more convenient for the family. One is so troubled at seeing those one loves laid low by illness. You have perhaps not thought of giving this poor lady the sweet aid of our holy religion! In your place, sir, I should send without delay for a priest,--” “What, now, sister? Do you not see the condition she is in? She is the same as dead; you saw that she did not hear my voice.” “That is of little consequence, sir,” replied the nun; “you will always have done your duty. She did not answer you; but are you sure that she will not answer the priest? Ah, you do not know all the power of the last sacraments! I have seen the dying recover their intelligence and sufficient strength to confess, and to receive the sacred body of our Lord Jesus Christ. I have often heard families say that they do not wish to alarm the invalid, that the sight of the minister of our Lord might inspire a terror that would hasten the final end. It is a fatal error. The priest does not terrify; he reassures the soul, at the beginning of its long journey. He speaks in the name of the God of mercy, who comes to save, not to destroy. I could cite to you many cases of dying people who have been cured simply by contact with the sacred balm.”