The trial was too heavy, her innocence was too delicate to allow her to survive the murderous blow.

She complained no more; a sorrowful smile was on her lips; her eyes appealed to heaven, to the Sovereign of angels, against man's injustice.
When Goupil reached Nemours, Ursula had just been carried down from her chamber to the ground-floor in the arms of La Bougival and the doctor.
A great event was about to take place.

When Madame de Portenduere became really aware that the girl was dying like an ermine, though less injured in her honor than Clarissa Harlowe, she resolved to go to her and comfort her.

The sight of her son's anguish, who during the whole preceding night had seemed beside himself, made the Breton soul of the old woman yield.

Moreover, it seemed worthy of her own dignity to revive the courage of a girl so pure, and she saw in her visit a counterpoise to all the evil done by the little town.