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who combined boldness and a convict's dexterity with the

knowledge peculiar to men of the world, especially as they would



not scruple to give a stab to ensure silence.

In two hours the bars were sawn through. Three men stood on



guard outside, and two inside the parlour. The rest, barefooted,

took up their posts along the corridor. Young Henri de Marsay,



the most dexterous man among them, disguised by way of precaution

in a Carmelite's robe, exactly like the costume of the convent,



led the way, and Montriveau came immediately behind him. The

clock struck three just as the two men reached the dormitory



cells. They soon saw the position. Everything was perfectly

quiet. With the help of a dark lantern they read the names



luckily written on every door, together with the picture of a

saint or saints and the mystical words which every nun takes as a



kind of motto for the beginning of her new life and the

revelation of her last thought. Montriveau reached Sister



Theresa's door and read the inscription, Sub invocatione sanctae

matris Theresae, and her motto, Adoremus in aeternum. Suddenly



his companion laid a hand on his shoulder. A bright light was

streaming through the chinks of the door. M. de Ronquerolles



came up at that moment.

"All the nuns are in the church," he said; "they are beginning



the Office for the Dead."

"I will stay here," said Montriveau. "Go back into the



parlour, and shut the door at the end of the passage."

He threw open the door and rushed in, preceded by his disguised



companion, who let down the veil over his face.

There before them lay the dead Duchess; her plank bed had been



laid on the floor of the outer room of her cell, between two

lighted candles. Neither Montriveau nor de Marsay spoke a word



or uttered a cry; but they looked into each other's faces. The

General's dumb gesture tried to say, "Let us carry her away!"



"Quickly" shouted Ronquerolles, "the procession of nuns is

leaving the church. You will be caught!"



With magicalswiftness of movement, prompted by an intense

desire, the dead woman was carried into the convent parlour,



passed through the window, and lowered from the walls before the

Abbess, followed by the nuns, returned to take up Sister



Theresa's body. The sister left in charge had imprudently left

her post; there were secrets that she longed to know; and so busy



was she ransacking the inner room, that she heard nothing, and

was horrified when she came back to find that the body was gone.



Before the women, in their blank amazement, could think of making

a search, the Duchess had been lowered by a cord to the foot of



the crags, and Montriveau's companions had destroyed all traces

of their work. By nine o'clock that morning there was not a sign



to show that either staircase or wire-cables had ever existed,

and Sister Theresa's body had been taken on board. The brig came



into the port to ship her crew, and sailed that day.

Montriveau, down in the cabin, was left alone with Antoinette de



Navarreins. For some hours it seemed as if her dead face was

transfigured for him by that unearthly beauty which the calm of



death gives to the body before it perishes.

"Look here," said Ronquerolles when Montriveau reappeared on



deck, "THAT was a woman once, now it is nothing. Let us tie a

cannon ball to both feet and throw the body overboard; and if



ever you think of her again, think of her as of some book that

you read as a boy."



"Yes," assented Montriveau, "it is nothing now but a dream."

"That is sensible of you. Now, after this, have passions; but



as for love, a man ought to know how to place it wisely; it is

only a woman's last love that can satisfy a man's first love."



End



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