The paper was not folded. She cast a glance upon it.

“You can read it,” said he.

She read:⁠—

“I beg Monsieur le Curé to keep an eye on all that I leave behind me. He will be so good as to pay out of it the expenses of my trial, and of the funeral of the woman who died yesterday. The rest is for the poor.”

The sister tried to speak, but she only managed to stammer a few inarticulate sounds. She succeeded in saying, however:⁠—

“Does not Monsieur le Maire desire to take a last look at that poor, unhappy woman?”

“No,” said he; “I am pursued; it would only end in their arresting me in that room, and that would disturb her.”