“Yes,” said the archbishop; “yes, my daughter.”

“No, my father, no!” she said rising in her bed, the lightning flashing from her eyes.  “Not far from here there is a grave, where an unhappy man is lying beneath the weight of a dreadful crime; here in this sumptuous home is a woman, crowned with the fame of benevolence and virtue.  This woman is blessed; that poor young man is cursed.  The criminal is covered with obloquy; I receive the respect of all.  I had the largest share in the sin; he has a share, a large share in the good which has won for me such glory and such gratitude.  Fraud that I am, I have the honor; he, the martyr to his loyalty, has the shame.  I shall die in a few hours, and the canton will mourn me; the whole department will ring with my good deeds, my piety, my virtue; but he died covered with insults, in sight of a whole population rushing, with hatred to a murderer, to see him die.  You, my judges, you are indulgent to me; yet I hear within myself an imperious voice which will not let me rest.  Ah! the hand of God, less tender than yours, strikes me from day to day, as if to warn me that all is not expiated.  My sins cannot be redeemed except by a public confession.  He is happy! criminal, he gave his life with ignominy in face of earth and heaven; and I, I cheat the world as I cheated human justice.  The homage I receive humiliates me; praise sears my heart.  Do you not see, in the very coming of the procureur-general, a command from heaven echoing the voice in my own soul which cries to me:  Confess!”

The two priests, the prince of the Church as well as the humble rector, these two great lights, each in his own way, stood with their eyes lowered and were silent.  Deeply moved by the grandeur and the resignation of the guilty woman, the judges could not pronounce her sentence.

“My child,” said the archbishop at last, raising his noble head, macerated by the customs of his austere life, “you are going beyond the commandments of the Church.  The glory of the Church is to make her dogma conform to the habits and manners of each age; for the Church goes on from age to age in company with humanity.  According to her present decision secret confession has taken the place of public confession.  This substitution has made the new law.  The sufferings you have endured suffice.  Die in peace:  God has heard you.”

“But is not this desire of a guilty woman in conformity with the law of the first Church, which has enriched heaven with as many saints and martyrs and confessing souls as there are stars in the firmament?” persisted Veronique, vehemently.  “Who said:  Confess yourselves to one another?  Was it not the disciples, who lived with the Saviour?  Let me confess my shame publicly on my knees.  It will redeem my sin to the world, to that family exiled and almost extinct through me.  The world ought to know that my benefactions are not an offering, but the payment of a debt.  Suppose that later, after my death, something tore from my memory the lying veil which covers me.  Ah! that idea is more than I can bear, it is death indeed!”