"
"According to your own admission you have been a liar and a
hypocrite for twenty-five years!" said Moretti bitterly, "You should
have made your confession before, and have made it privately. There
is something unnatural and reprehensible in the sudden blazon you
have made to the public of your gross immorality."
"'A sudden blazon' you call it,--" said the Abbe, "Well, perhaps it
is! But murder will out, no matter how long it is kept in. You are
not entirely aware of my position, Monseigneur. Have you the
patience to hear a full explanation?"
"I have the patience to hear because it is my duty to hear," replied
Moretti frigidly, "I am bound to convey the whole of this matter to
His Holiness."
"True! That is your duty, and who shall say it is not also your
pleasure!" and Vergniaud smiled a little. "Well!--Convey to His
Holiness the news that I, Denis Vergniaud, am a dying man, and that
knowing myself to be in that condition, and that two years at the
utmost, is my extent of life on this planet, I have taken it
seriously into my head to consider as to whether I am fit to meet
death with a clean conscience. Death, Monsignor, admits of no lying,
no politeness, no elegant sophistries! Now, the more I have
considered, the more I am aware of my total unfitness to confront
whatever may be waiting for me in the Afterwards of death--(for
without doubt there is an afterwards,)--and being conscious of
having done at least one grave injury to an innocent person, I have
taken the best and quickest way to make full amends.
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