Adolphe.  Do you begin to suspect him also, Madame Catherine?

Mme. Catherine.  Yes and no.  I have got beyond having an opinion in this matter.  Have you not seen angels turn into devils just as you turn your hand, and then become angels again?

Commissaire.  It certainly does look queer.  However, we’ll have to wait and hear what explanations he can give.  No one will be judged unheard.  Good evening, gentlemen.  Good evening, Madame Catherine. [Goes out.]

Abbe.  This is not the work of man.

Adolphe.  No, it looks as if demons had been at work for the undoing of man.

Abbe.  It is either a punishment for secret misdeeds, or it is a terrible test.

Jeanne. [Enters, dressed in mourning] Good evening.  Pardon me for asking, but have you seen Monsieur Maurice?

Mme. Catherine.  No, madame, but I think he may be here any minute.  You haven’t met him then since—­

Jeanne.  Not since this morning.

Mme. Catherine.  Let me tell you that I share in your great sorrow.

Jeanne.  Thank you, madame. [To the Abbe] So you are here, Father.

Abbe.  Yes, my child.  I thought I might be of some use to you.  And it was fortunate, as it gave me a chance to speak to the Commissaire.

Jeanne.  The Commissaire!  He doesn’t suspect Maurice also, does he?

Abbe.  No, he doesn’t, and none of us here do.  But appearances are against him in a most appalling manner.

Jeanne.  You mean on account of the talk the waiters overheard—­it means nothing to me, who has heard such things before when Maurice had had a few drinks.  Then it is his custom to speculate on crimes and their punishment.  Besides it seems to have been the woman in his company who dropped the most dangerous remarks.  I should like to have a look into that woman’s eyes.

Adolphe.  My dear Jeanne, no matter how much harm that woman may have done you, she did nothing with evil intention—­in fact, she had no intention whatever, but just followed the promptings of her nature.  I know her to be a good soul and one who can very well bear being looked straight in the eye.

Jeanne.  Your judgment in this matter, Adolphe, has great value to me, and I believe what you say.  It means that I cannot hold anybody but myself responsible for what has happened.  It is my carelessness that is now being punished. [She begins to cry.]

Abbe.  Don’t accuse yourself unjustly!  I know you, and the serious spirit in which you have regarded your motherhood.  That your assumption of this responsibility had not been sanctioned by religion and the civil law was not your fault.  No, we are here facing something quite different.

Adolphe.  What then?

Abbe.  Who can tell?