But, on the other hand, he thirsted to know what had passed between the advocate and the count.  His ignorance on this single point aroused his curiosity.  However, as he could not withdraw he resolved to keep close watch upon his language and remain constantly on his guard.

The advocate ushered the old man into Madame Gerdy’s room.  Her condition, since the afternoon, had changed a little; though it was impossible to say whether for the better or the worse.  One thing was evident, her prostration was not so great.  Her eyes still remained closed; but a slight quivering of the lids was evident.  She constantly moved on her pillow, and moaned feebly.

“What does the doctor say?” asked old Tabaret, in that low voice one unconsciously employs in a sick room.

“He has just gone,” replied Noel; “before long all will be over.”

The old man advanced on tip-toe, and looked at the dying woman with evident emotion.

“Poor creature!” he murmured; “God is merciful in taking her.  She perhaps suffers much; but what is this pain compared to what she would feel if she knew that her son, her true son, was in prison, accused of murder?”

“That is what I keep thinking,” said Noel, “to console myself for this sight.  For I still love her, my old friend; I shall always regard her as a mother.  You have heard me curse her, have you not?  I have twice treated her very harshly.  I thought I hated her; but now, at the moment of losing her, I forget every wrong she has done me, only to remember her tenderness.  Yes, for her, death is far preferable!  And yet I do not think, no, I cannot think her son guilty.”

“No! what, you too?”

Old Tabaret put so much warmth and vivacity into this exclamation, that Noel looked at him with astonishment.  He felt his face grow red, and he hastened to explain himself.  “I said, ‘you too,’” he continued, “because I, thanks perhaps to my inexperience, am persuaded also of this young man’s innocence.  I cannot in the least imagine a man of his rank meditating and accomplishing so cowardly a crime.  I have spoken with many persons on this matter which has made so much noise; and everybody is of my opinion.  He has public opinion in his favor; that is already something.”

Seated near the bed, sufficiently far from the lamp to be in the shade, the nun hastily knitted stockings destined for the poor.  It was a purely mechanical work, during which she usually prayed.  But, since old Tabaret entered the room, she forgot her everlasting prayers whilst listening to the conversation.  What did it all mean?  Who could this woman be?  And this young man who was not her son, and who yet called her mother, and at the same time spoke of a true son accused of being an assassin?  Before this she had overheard mysterious remarks pass between Noel and the doctor.  Into what strange house had she entered?  She was a little afraid; and her conscience was sorely troubled.  Was she not sinning?  She resolved to tell all to the priest, when he returned.