My conscience, so sternly repressed by the iron
hand of necessity, tells me, at this final insult, that such
sacrifices are impossible.--My pride is gone; I do not say now, as I
did the first time, 'Go!' after receiving this mortal thrust. I have
lost the right to do so. I have flung myself before you like a
prostitute.
"Yes," she went on, in reply to a negative on Crevel's part, "I have
fouled my life, till now so pure, by a degrading thought; and I am
inexcusable!--I know it!--I deserve every insult you can offer me!
God's will be done! If, indeed, He desires the death of two creatures
worthy to appear before Him, they must die! I shall mourn them, and
pray for them! If it is His will that my family should be humbled to
the dust, we must bow to His avenging sword, nay, and kiss it, since
we are Christians.--I know how to expiate this disgrace, which will be
the torment of all my remaining days.
"I who speak to you, monsieur, am not Madame Hulot, but a wretched,
humble sinner, a Christian whose heart henceforth will know but one
feeling, and that is repentance, all my time given up to prayer and
charity. With such a sin on my soul, I am the last of women, the first
only of penitents.--You have been the means of bringing me to a right
mind; I can hear the Voice of God speaking within me, and I can thank
you!"
She was shaking with the nervous trembling which from that hour never
left her. Her low, sweet tones were quite unlike the fevered accents
of the woman who was ready for dishonor to save her family.
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