of that godless and wicked
man who had planted every seed of perdition in "our Rita's" ill-disposed
heart. But he was dead and she, Therese, knew for certain that
wickedness perished utterly, because of God's anger (_la colere du bon
Dieu_). She would have no hesitation in receiving a bishop, if need be,
since "our, Rita," with her poor, wretched, unbelieving heart, had
nothing more to do with the house.

All this came out of her like an unctuous trickle of some acrid oil. The
low, voluble delivery was enough by itself to compel my attention.

"You think you know your sister's heart," I asked.

She made small eyes at me to discover if I was angry. She seemed to have
an invincible faith in the virtuous dispositions of young men. And as I
had spoken in measured tones and hadn't got red in the face she let
herself go.

"Black, my dear young Monsieur. Black. I always knew it. Uncle, poor
saintly man, was too holy to take notice of anything. He was too busy
with his thoughts to listen to anything I had to say to him. For
instance as to her shamelessness. She was always ready to run half naked
about the hills. . . "

"Yes. After your goats. All day long. Why didn't you mend her frocks?"

"Oh, you know about the goats. My dear young Monsieur, I could never
tell when she would fling over her pretended sweetness and put her tongue
out at me. Did she tell you about a boy, the son of pious and rich
parents, whom she tried to lead astray into the wildness of thoughts like
her own, till the poor dear child drove her off because she outraged his
modesty? I saw him often with his parents at Sunday mass. The grace of
God preserved him and made him quite a gentleman in Paris. Perhaps it
will touch Rita's heart, too, some day. But she was awful then. When I
wouldn't listen to her complaints she would say: 'All right, sister, I
would just as soon go clothed in rain and wind.' And such a bag of
bones, too, like the picture of a devil's imp. Ah, my dear young
Monsieur, you don't know how wicked her heart is. You aren't bad enough
for that yourself. I don't believe you are evil at all in your innocent
little heart. I never heard you jeer at holy things. You are only
thoughtless. For instance, I have never seen you make the sign of the
cross in the morning. Why don't you make a practice of crossing yourself
directly you open your eyes. It's a very good thing. It keeps Satan off
for the day."

She proffer