The moment supper was served，Mr．Follenvie appeared with his old phrase：“The Prussian officer orders me to ask if Miss Elizabeth Rousset has yet changed her mind．”
Ball-of-Fat responded dryly：“No，sir．”
But at dinner the coalition weakened．Loiseau made three unhappy remarks．Each one beat his wits for new examples but found nothing；when the Countess，without premeditation，perhaps feeling some vague need of rendering homage to religion，asked the elder of the good sisters to tell them some great deeds in the lives of the saints．It appeared that many of their acts would have been considered crimes in our eyes；but the Church gave absolution of them readily，since they were done for the glory of God，or for the good of all．It was a powerful argument；the Countess made the most of it．
Thus it may be by one of those tacit understandings，or the veiled complacency in which anyone who wears the ecclesiastical garb excels，it may be simply from the effect of a happy unintelligence，a helpful stupidity，but in fact the religious sister lent a formidable support to the conspiracy．They had thought her timid，but she showed herself courageous，verbose，even vio-lent．She was not troubled by the chatter of the casuist；her doctrine seemed a bar of iron；her faith never hesitated；her conscience had no scruples．She found the sacrifice of Abraham perfectly simple，for she would immediately kill fathar or mother on an order from on high．And nothing，in her opinion，could displease the Lord，if the intention was laudable．The Countess put to use the authority of her unwitting accomplice， and added to it the edifying paraphrase and axiom of Jesuit morals：“The need justifies the means．”
Then she asked her：“Then，my sister，do you think that God accepts intentions，and pardons the deed when the motive is pure？”
“Who could doubt it，Madame？An action blamable in itself often becomes meritorious by the thought it springs from．”
And they continued thus，unraveling the will of God，foreseeing his decisions，making themselves interested in things that，in truth，they would never think of noticing．All this was guarded，skillful，discreet．But each word of the saintly sister in a cap helped to break down the resistance of the unworthy courtesan．Then the conversation changed a little，the woman of the chaplet speaking of the houses of her order，of her Superior，of herself，of her dainty neighbor，the dear sister Saint－Nicephore．They had been called to the hospitals of Havre to care for the hundreds of soldiers stricken with smallpox．They depicted these miserable creatures，giving details of the malady．And while they were stopped，en route，by the caprice of this Prussian officer，a great number of Frenchmen might die， whom perhaps they could have saved！It was a specialty with her，caring for soldiers．She had been in Crimea，in Italy，in Austria，and，in telling of her campaigns，she revealed herself as one of those religious aids to drums and trumpets，who seem made to follow camps，pick up the wounded in the thick of battle，and，better than an officer，subdue with a word great bands of undisciplined recruits．A true，good sister of the rataplan，whose ravaged face，marked with innumerable scars，appeared the image of the devastation of war．
No one could speak after her，so excellent seemed the effect of her words．
As soon as the repast was ended they quickly went up to their rooms，with the purpose of not coming down the next day until late in the morning．
The luncheon was quiet．They had given the grain of seed time to germinate and bear fruit．The Countess proposed that they take a walk in the afternoon．The Count，being agreeably inclined，gave an arm to Ball-of-Fat and walked behind the others with her．He talked to her in a familiar，paternal tone，a little disdainful，after the manner of men having girls in their employ，calling her“my dear child，”from the height of his social position，of his undisputed honor．He reached the vital part of the question at once：
“Then you prefer to leave us here，exposed to the violences which follow a defeat，rather than consent to a favor which you have so often given in your life？”
Ball－of－Fat answered nothing．
Then he tried to reach her through gentleness，reason，and then the sentiments．He knew how to remain “The Count，”even while showing himself gallant or complimentary，or very amiable if it became necessary．He exalted the service that she would render them， and spoke of her appreciation；then suddenly became gaily familiar，and said：
“And you know，my dear，it would be something for him to boast of that he had known a pretty girl；something it is difficult to find in his country．”
Ball-of-Fat did not answer but joined the rest of the party．As soon as they entered the house she went to her room and did not appear again．The disquiet was extreme．What were they to do？If she continued to resist，what an embarrassment！
The dinner hour struck．They waited in vain．Mr．Follenvie finally entered and said that Miss Rousset was indisposed，and would not be at the table．Everybody pricked up his ears．The Count went to the innkeeper and said in a low voice：
“Is he in there？”
“Yes．”
For convenience，he said nothing to his companions，but made a slight sign with his head．Immediately a great sigh of relief went up from every breast and a light appeared in their faces．Loiseau cried out：
“Holy Christopher！I pay for the champagne，if there is any to be found in the establishment．”And Mrs．Loiseau was pained to see the proprietor return with four quart bottles in his hands．
Each one had suddenly become communicative and buoyant．A wanton joy filled their hearts．The Count suddenly perceived that Mrs．Carré-Lamadon was charming，the manufacturer paid compliments to the Countess．The conversation was lively，gay，full of touches．
Suddenly Loiseau，with anxious face and hand up-raised，called out：“Silence！”Everybody was silent，surprised，already frightened．Then he listened intently and said：“S-s-sh！”his two eyes and his hands raised to-ward the ceiling，listening，and then continuing，in his natural voice：“All right！All goes well！”
They failed to comprehend at first，but soon all laughed．At the end of a quarter of an hour he began the same farce again，renewing it occasionally during the whole afternoon．And he pretended to call some one in the story above，giving him advice in a double meaning，drawn from the fountain-head-the mind of a commercial traveler．For some moments he would assume a sad air，breathing in a whisper：“Poor girl！”Then he would murmur between his teeth，with an appearance of rage：“Ugh！That scamp of a Prussian．”Sometimes，at a moment when no more was thought about it，he would say，in an affected voice，many times over：“Enough！enough！”and add，as if speaking to himself，“If we could only see her again，it isn't necessary that he should kill her，the wretch！”
Although these jokes were in deplorable taste，they amused all and wounded no one，for indignation，like other things，depends upon its surroundings，and the atmosphere which had been gradually created around them was charged with sensual thoughts．
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