The old priest was so deeply moved at the repentance of a being who had sinned solely through ignorance, that he left the room hastily lest she should see his pity.
Joseph returned to his mother's room about two hours after her confessor had left her.

He had been to a friend to borrow the necessary money to pay his most pressing debts, and he came in on tiptoe, thinking that his mother was asleep.

He sat down in an armchair without her seeing him; but he sprang up with a cold chill running through him as he heard her say, in a voice broken with sobs,-- "Will he forgive me ?" "What is it, mother ?" he exclaimed, shocked at the stricken face of the poor woman, and thinking the words must mean the delirium that precedes death.
"Ah, Joseph! can you pardon me, my child ?" she cried.
"For what ?" he said.
"I have never loved you as you deserved to be loved." "Oh, what an accusation!" he cried.

"Not loved me?
For seven years have we not lived alone together?
All these seven years have you not taken care of me and done everything for me?
Do I not see you every day,--hear your voice?
Are you not the gentle and indulgent companion of my miserable life?
You don't understand painting ?--Ah! but that's a gift not always given.

I was saying to Grassou only yesterday: 'What comforts me in the midst of my trials is that I have such a good mother.