There was no answer. The parents and daughter simply stared at their visitor. She continued— "I know that his life has been bad, but I thought that you would be glad to hear of his conversion." Then the Baroness could no longer contain herself. A torrent of words fell from her lips. She depicted the scandalous life of her son, who had been a real prodigal in every sense of the word, gambling away their wealth, bringing his mistress into their house, and disgracing their name. "But," said the Maréchale, "that was before his change. Do not bring up what he once was. Think of what he is now. He has been living among my children, and I can trust him to go in and out with them. I know something of real conversions, and I think I can judge. I assure you that he has become a new man, with new desires, new aspirations, a new nature." These assurances only led to another realistic description of his sins. "But," pleaded the Maréchale, "that was when he was Saul; now he is Paul." They stared and did not comprehend the meaning of her words. "Let him come back to the Catholic Church," said the Baron. That his son should profess to have been saved outside the holy Mother Church was evidently a last blow to his pride. "That is surely a secondary matter," said the Maréchale. "Considering what a sinner he has been, you should not mind by whom the change has come. He has been converted in the _Armée du Salut_, but there is only one God and one Saviour. Catholic and Protestant are alike if they have no life." But the Baroness drew herself up in her beautiful robe, and said— "Let him come back to the Catholic Church, or he will never receive another sou from us." The Maréchale saw that it was time to end the interview. "Very well, Baroness," she said, rising, "I will be your son’s mother. I will buy your son clothes and boots." With that she left their house disappointed and weary, having spent hours under their roof pleading their son’s cause, but they had never offered her so much as a cup of tea. On her return to Paris, she called Baron X. His face fell when she began to speak. She bade him be brave, described to him her interview with his people, and ended by saying, "I will be a mother to you, and you shall never lack for anything." He worked on with her in Paris for some months, and then he received a telegram, "Come quickly, father dying." The Maréchale rushed him off, and he afterwards gave her an account of his eventful journey. When he got home, he found the house silent, every sound muffled without and within. "Am I too late?" he asked. "No, hush! He has been asking for you all the time. Come quickly." Upstairs he went to his father’s room. Entering, he saw two thin white hands on the coverlet, and heard a voice— "Is it my son?" "Yes, father!" With one bound he was at the bed-side, and fell on his knees. With breath coming thick and fast, his father said faintly—