“Madame,” replied the doctor, “you are right, and God is too just to add the horror of uncertainty to His rightful punishments.  At that moment when the soul quits her earthly body the judgment of God is passed upon her:  she hears the sentence of pardon or of doom; she knows whether she is in the state of grace or of mortal sin; she sees whether she is to be plunged forever into hell, or if God sends her for a time to purgatory.  This sentence, madame, you will learn at the very instant when the executioner’s axe strikes you; unless, indeed, the fire of charity has so purified you in this life that you may pass, without any purgatory at all, straight to the home of the blessed who surround the throne of the Lord, there to receive a recompense for earthly martyrdom.”

“Sir,” replied the marquise, “I have such faith in all you say that I feel I understand it all now, and I am satisfied.”

The doctor and the marquise then resumed the confession that was interrupted the night before.  The marquise had during the night recollected certain articles that she wanted to add.  So they continued, the doctor making her pause now and then in the narration of the heavier offences to recite an act of contrition.

After an hour and a half they came to tell her to go down.  The registrar was waiting to read her the sentence.  She listened very calmly, kneeling, only moving her head; then, with no alteration in her voice, she said, “In a moment:  we will have one word more, the doctor and I, and then I am at your disposal.”  She then continued to dictate the rest of her confession.  When she reached the end, she begged him to offer a short prayer with her, that God might help her to appear with such becoming contrition before her judges as should atone for her scandalous effrontery.  She then took up her cloak, a prayer-book which Father Chavigny had left with her, and followed the concierge, who led her to the torture chamber, where her sentence was to be read.

First, there was an examination which lasted five hours.  The marquise told all she had promised to tell, denying that she had any accomplices, and affirming that she knew nothing of the composition of the poisons she had administered, and nothing of their antidotes.  When this was done, and the judges saw that they could extract nothing further, they signed to the registrar to read the sentence.  She stood to hear it:  it was as follows: 

“That by the finding of the court, d’Aubray de Brinvilliers is convicted of causing the death by poison of Maitre Dreux d’Aubray, her father, and of the two Maitres d’Aubray, her brothers, one a civil lieutenant, the other a councillor to the Parliament, also of attempting the life of Therese d’Aubray, her sister; in punishment whereof the court has condemned and does condemn the said d’Aubray de Brinvilliers to make the rightful atonement before the great gate of the church of Paris, whither she shall be conveyed in a tumbril, barefoot, a rope on