He had confessed, and received absolution and the sacrament of his church at Remouille; and when he reached St.Laurent, nothing was left for him but to die.
He tried to thank her, as Agatha assisted him to the little chamber which she had prepared for him; but his own feelings, and his exertions in moving were at first too much for him.

The power of speech, however, soon returned to him, and he said: "How can I thank you, Mademoiselle, what am I to say to thank you for such care as this ?" "You are not to thank us at all," said Agatha, (there was one of the sisters of mercy with her in the room).

"We are only doing what little women can do for the cause, for which you have done so much." Again he essayed to speak, but the sister stopped him with a kind yet authoritative motion of her hand, and bade him rest tranquil a while, and so he did.

Sometimes Agatha sat by the window, and watched his bed, and at others, she stole quietly out of the room to see her other patients, and then she would return again, and take her place by the window; and as long as she remained in the room, so that he could look upon her face, Cathelineau felt that he was happy.
He had been at St.Laurent some few hours, and was aware that his precious moments were fast ebbing.

He hardly knew what it was that he longed to say, but yet he felt that he could not die in peace without expressing to the fair creature who sat beside him the gratitude he felt for her tender care.