"Ah, well, I brought you into the world carelessly, you have cursed me
out of it. We are quits. Begone!" There was dignity in his gesture
toward the door.
Brother Jacques did not stir.
"Begone, I say, and let me die in peace."
"I will give you absolution, father."
The fierce, burning eyes seemed to search into Brother Jacques's soul.
There was on that proud face neither fear nor horror. And this was the
hour Brother Jacques had planned and waited for! For this moment he
had donned the robes, isolated himself, taken vows, suffered physical
tortures! He had come to curse: he was offering absolution.
"Hypocrite, begone!" cried the marquis, seized with vertigo. He tried
to strike the bell, but the effort merely sent it jangling to the
floor. "Begone!"
"Monsieur!"
"Must I call for help?"
Brother Jacques could stand no more. He rushed madly toward the door,
which he opened violently. Sister Benie stood in the corridor,
transfixed.
"My son?" she faltered. A pathetic little sob escaped her. Her arms
reached out feebly; she fell. Brother Jacques caught her, but she was
dead. Her heart had broken.
Pages:
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574