"I thought, perhaps," she said, "you would be glad to hear some tidings
of his last moments; and as I was with him when he died, I have come to
tell you that his death was that of a Christian, who hoped everything
from the merits of his Saviour."
"May his soul rest in peace," said the mother, crossing herself, and
mechanically putting her hands to her beads. "May his soul rest in
peace. And you were with him when he died, Mademoiselle, were you?"
"I knelt at his bed-side as the breath passed from his body."
"It would have been better for him had one of his own degree been there:
not that I doubt you did the duty of a good neighbour, as well as it
might be done by one like you. Might I ask you your name, lady?"
"My name is Agatha Larochejaquelin."
"Larochejaquelin! I'm sorry for it. It was that name that first led
Jacques into trouble: it was young Larochejaquelin that first made my
son a soldier. I will not blame you, for you say you were kind to him
at a time when men most want kindness; but, I wish that neither I nor
he had ever heard your name.
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