This man"-- he pointed to Charley--"is my friend.

Who seeks to harm him, would harm me.

Go hence and pray.

Pray for yourselves, pray for him, and for me; and pray for the troubled soul of Louis Trudel.

Go in peace." Soon afterwards the house was empty, save for the Cure, Charley, old Margot, and the Notary.
That night Charley sat in the tailor's bedroom, rigid and calm, though racked with pain, and watched the candles flickering beside the dead body.