Amen.' Then she whispered softly: 'God bless my dear Luc Michee! Holy Mother pray for him!' These were her last words, and I took you from her arms.

What have you to say, Luc Michee ?" The woman in the gallery was weeping silently behind her thick veil, and her worn hand clutched the desk in front of her convulsively.

Presently she arose and made her way down the stair, almost unnoticed.

Two or three times Luc tried to speak, but could not.

"Lift me up," he said brokenly, at last.
Parpon and the Little Chemist raised him to his feet, and held him, his shaking hands resting on their shoulders, his lank body tottering above and between them.
Looking at the congregation, he said slowly: "I'll suffer till I die for cursing my baptism, and God will twist my neck in purgatory for--" "Luc," the Cure interrupted, "say that you repent." "I'm sorry, and I ask you all to forgive me, and I'll confess to the Cure, and take my penance, and--" he paused, for breathing hurt him.
At that moment the woman in black who had been in the gallery came quickly forward.