Those reservoirs had emptied and
dried twenty years ago. But her heart cried. A new pain stabbed her,
causing the room to careen. She kissed him on the forehead. It was
all beyond her capacity for suffering. Her love belonged to God, not
to man. To remain was to lose her reason. She would go before the
delusion passed. In the corridor she would kneel and pray for this
dark soul which was about to leap toward the Infinite. On the
threshold she came face to face with Brother Jacques, whose pallor, if
anything, exceeded her own. She stopped, undecided, hesitant. . . .
Was it the color of his eyes?
"I have come, Sister, to give Monsieur le Marquis absolution." His
tone was mild and reassuring. Stuck between his gown and his belt was
the letter Jehan had given him to read. He had not looked at it yet.
"Monsieur le Marquis has called for me."
"You have full powers?" uncertain and distressed. She did not like the
fever in his eyes.
"I am fully ordained. I may not perform mass because of my mutilation,
though I am expecting a dispensation from his Holiness the pope." He
held out his hand, and her distrust subsided at the sight of those
reddened stumps.
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