ean and the boiling
caldron.

Never, at the best of times, a resolute man; deprived, since the day
before, of such resources of energy as he possessed, by the mental
suffering which he had undergone in secret, the unfortunate priest
trembled from head to foot as the three brothers closed round him.
Louis took the crucifix from him, and held it; Thomas forced him to
place his right hand on it; Jean stood in front of him and put the
questions.

"Our father has been brought home a murdered man," he said. "Do you
know who killed him?"

The priest hesitated, and the two elder brothers moved him nearer to
the caldron.

"Answer us, on peril of your life," said Jean. "Say, with your hand on
the blessed crucifix, do you know the man who killed our father?"

"I do know him."

"When did you make the discovery?"

"Yesterday."

"Where?"

"At Toulouse."

"Name the murderer."

At those words the priest closed his hand fast on the crucifix, and
rallied his sinking courage.

"Never!" he said, firmly. "The knowledge I possess was obtained in the
confessional. The secrets of the confessional are sacred. If I betray
them, I commit sacrilege. I will die first!"

"Think!" said Jean. "If you keep silence, you screen the murderer. If
you keep silence, you are the murderer's accomplice. We have sworn
over our father's dead body to avenge him; if you refuse to speak, we
will avenge him on you. I charge you again, name the man who killed
him."

"I will die first," the priest reiterated, as firmly as before.

"Die, then!" said Jean. "Die in that caldron of boiling oil."

"Give him time," cried Louis and Thomas, earnestly pleading together.

"We will give him time," said the younger brother.

"There is the clock yonder, against the wall. We will count five
minutes by it. In those five minutes, let him make his peace with God,
or make up his mind to speak."

They waited, watching the clock. In that dreadful interval, the priest
dropped on his knees and hid his face. The time passed in dead silence.

"Speak! for your own sake, for our sakes, speak!" said Thomas Siadoux,
as the minute-hand reached the point at which the five minutes expired.

The priest looked up; his voice died away on his lips; the mortal agony
broke out on his face in great drops of sweat; his head sank forward on
his breast.

"Lift him!" cried Jean, seizing the priest on one side. "Lift him, and
throw him in!"

The two elder brother