proached the bed of the dying girl. She made him a slight sign with her head, and observing that he had a book in his hand:
"You will not read to-day," she murmured feebly.
Madame de Piennes glanced at the book, so-called; it was a bound chart of Greece, which he had purchased in passing.
The Abbé Dubignon, who had been with Arsene throughout the morning, observing how rapidly her strength was failing, wished to turn to profit for her salvation, the few minutes that still remained to him. He waved aside Max and Madame de Piennes, and bending over the bed of suffering, he addressed to the poor girl the solemn and consoling words which religion reserves for such moments. In a corner of the chamber Madame de Piennes was kneeling in prayer, and Max, standing by the window seemed transformed to a statue.
"You forgive all those who have injured you, my daughter," said the preacher, in a voice choked with emotion.
"Yes! May they be happy!" replied the dying girl, with an effort to make herself heard.
"Put your trust in God's mercy, my daughter!" continued the abbé. "Repentance opens the gates of heaven."
