e--to save me--leave me--five minutes."

She looked so pitiful that he rose without a word and asked with some
hesitation: "Shall I return presently?"

She nodded her head in the affirmative and he left her. She tried to
pray; she closed her eyes in order not to see Georges. She could not
pray; she could only think of him. She would rather have died than have
fallen thus; she had never been weak. She murmured several words of
supplication; she knew that all was over, that the struggle was in
vain. She did not however wish to yield, but she felt her weakness.
Some one approached with a rapid step; she turned her head. It was a
priest. She rose, ran toward him, and clasping her hands, she cried:
"Save me, save me!"

He stopped in surprise.

"What do you want, Madame?"

"I want you to save me. Have pity on me. If you do not help me, I am
lost!"

He gazed at her, wondering if she were mad.

"What can I do for you?" The priest was a young man somewhat inclined
to corpulence.

"Receive my confession," said she, "and counsel me, sustain me, tell me
what to do."

He replied: "I confess every Saturday from three to six."

Seizing his arm she repeated: "No, now, at once--at once! It is
necessary! He is here! In this church! He is waiting for me."

The priest asked: "Who is waiting for you?"

"A man--who will be my ruin if you do not save me. I can no longer
escape him--I am too weak--too weak."

She fell upon her knees sobbing: "Oh, father, have pity upon me. Save
me, for God's sake, save me!" She seized his gown that he might not
escape her, while he uneasily glanced around on all sides to see if
anyone noticed the woman at his feet. Finally, seeing that he could not
free himself from her, he said: "Rise; I have the key to the
confessional with me."

* * * * * * *

Du Roy having walked around the choir, was sauntering down the nave,
when he met the stout, bold man wandering about, and he wondered: "What
can he be doing here?"

The man slackened his pace and looked at Georges with the evident
desire to speak to him. When he was near him, he bowed and said
politely:

"I beg your pardon, sir, for disturbing you; but can you tell me when
this church was built?"

Du Roy replied: "I do not know; I think it is twenty or twenty-five
years. It is the first time I have been here. I have never seen it
before." Feeling interested in the stranger, the journalist continued:
"