“And think, think”—her voice sank —“of the horrible coarseness!” “What coarseness?” said Ann Veronica. . “I opened my eyes, and she was bending over my bedside. “Julian, I don’t know how to put this. But she did not listen long; she wanted to talk. Her head ached with a hollow pain. ‘Alors, I see it. To surrender himself to the law, to face trial and imprisonment, was out of the question. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him.
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