He had just expired.
The Bishop returned home, deeply absorbed in thoughts which cannot be known to us.

He passed the whole night in prayer.

On the following morning some bold and curious persons attempted to speak to him about member of the Convention G----; he contented himself with pointing heavenward.
From that moment he redoubled his tenderness and brotherly feeling towards all children and sufferers.
Any allusion to "that old wretch of a G----" caused him to fall into a singular preoccupation.

No one could say that the passage of that soul before his, and the reflection of that grand conscience upon his, did not count for something in his approach to perfection.
This "pastoral visit" naturally furnished an occasion for a murmur of comment in all the little local coteries.
"Was the bedside of such a dying man as that the proper place for a bishop?
There was evidently no conversion to be expected.

All those revolutionists are backsliders.