“Where is Gabriel, dear mother?” inquired he.  “How is he?  As you have seen him, tell us all about him.”

“I have seen Gabriel,” said Frances, drying her tears; “he is confined at home.  His superiors have rigorously forbidden his going out.  Luckily, they did not prevent his receiving me, for his words and counsels have opened my eyes to many things.  It is from him that I learned how guilty I had been to you, my poor husband.”

“How so?” asked Dagobert.

“Why, you know that if I caused you so much grief, it was not from wickedness.  When I saw you in such despair, I suffered almost as much myself; but I durst not tell you so, for fear of breaking my oath.  I had resolved to keep it, believing that I did well, believing that it was my duty.  And yet something told me that it could not be my duty to cause you so much pain.  ‘Alas, my God! enlighten me!’ I exclaimed in my prison, as I knelt down and prayed, in spite of the mockeries of the other women.  ’Why should a just and pious work, commanded by my confessor, the most respectable of men, overwhelm me and mine with so much misery?  ’Have mercy on me, my God, and teach me if I have done wrong without knowing it!’ As I prayed with fervor, God heard me, and inspired me with the idea of applying to Gabriel.  ‘I thank Thee, Father!  I will obey!’ said I within myself.  ’Gabriel is like my own child; but he is also a priest, a martyr—­almost a saint.  If any one in the world imitates the charity of our blessed Saviour, it is surely he.  When I leave this prison, I will go and consult him and he will clear up my doubts.’”

“You are right, dear mother,” cried Agricola; “it was a thought from heaven.  Gabriel is an angel of purity, courage, nobleness—­the type of the true and good priest!”

“Ah, poor wife!” said Dagobert, with bitterness; “if you had never had any confessor but Gabriel!”

“I thought of it before he went on his journey,” said Frances, with simplicity.  “I should have liked to confess to the dear boy—­but I fancied Abbe Dubois would be offended, and that Gabriel would be too indulgent with regard to my sins.

“Your sins, poor dear mother?” said Agricola.  “As if you ever committed any!”

“And what did Gabriel tell you?” asked the soldier.

“Alas, my dear! had I but had such an interview with him sooner!  What I told him of Abbe Dubois roused his suspicions, and he questioned me, dear child, as to many things of which he had never spoken to me before.  Then I opened to him my whole heart, and he did the same to me, and we both made sad discoveries with regard to persons whom we had always thought very respectable, and who yet had deceived each of us, unknown to the other.”

“How so?”