‘And on the front of the envelope?’
‘I see, written in what must surely be your own hand, the words: M. Erik Muhlheim, New York City.’
‘And the small leather bag?’
‘I have it in my hand.’
‘Open it if you please.’
‘Nom d’un chien! Gold Napoleons. I have not seen these since …’
‘But they are still valid tender?’
‘Certainly, and most valuable.’
‘Then I wish you to take them all, and the letter, and take it to New York City and deliver it. Personally.’
‘Personally? In New York? But, madame, I do not usually … I have never been …’
‘Please, M. le Notaire. There is enough gold? For five weeks away from the office?’
‘More than enough, but …’
‘My child, you cannot know this man is still alive.’
‘Oh, he will have survived, Father. He will always survive.’
‘But I have no address for him. Where to find him?’
‘Ask, M. Dufour. Search the immigration records. The name is rare enough. He will be there somewhere. A man who wears a mask to hide his face.’
‘Very well, madame. I will try. I will go there and I will try. But I cannot guarantee success.’
‘Thank you. Tell me, Father, has o
ne of the sisters administered to me a spoonful of tincture of a white powder?’
‘Not in the hour that I have been here, ma fille. Why?’
‘It is strange but the pain has gone. Such beautiful, sweet relief. I cannot see to either side but I can see a sort of tunnel and an arch. My body was in such pain but now it hurts no more. It was so cold but now there is warmth everywhere.’
‘Do not delay, Monsieur l’Abbe. She is leaving us.’
‘Thank you, Sister. I hope I may know my duty.’
‘I am walking towards the arch, there is light at the end. Such sweet light. Oh, Lucien, are you there? I am coming, my love.’
‘In Nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti …’
‘Hurry, Father.’
‘Ego te absolvo ab omnibus peccatis tuis.’
‘Thank you, Father.’
2
THE CHANT OF ERIK MUHLHEIM