to some secondary matters, he would soon slyly
and cunningly come back to his favorite subject, namely, sins of
licentiousness.

His questions were so unclean that I blushed and felt nauseated with
disgust and shame. More than once, I had been to my great regret, in the
company of bad boys, but not one of them had offended my moral nature so
much as this priest had done. Not one of them had ever approached the
shadow of the things from which that man tore the veil, and which he placed
before the eyes of my soul. In vain I told him that I was not guilty of
those things; that I did not even understand what he asked me; but he would
not let me off.

Like a vulture bent upon tearing the poor defenceless bird that falls into
its claws, that cruel priest seemed determined to defile and ruin my heart.

At last, he asked me a question in a form of expression so bad that I was
really pained and put beside myself. I felt as if I had received the shock
from an electric battery: a feeling of horror made me shudder. I was filled
with such indignation that speaking loud enough to be heard by many, I told
him: "Sir, I am very wicked, but I was never guilty of what you mention to
me: please don't ask me any more of those questions which will teach me
more wickedness than I ever knew."

The remainder of my confession was short. The stern rebuke I had given him
had evidently made that priest blush, if it had not frightened him. He
stopped short, and gave me some very good advice which might have done me
good, if the deep wounds which his questions had inflicted upon my soul,
had not so absorbed my thoughts, as to prevent me from giving attention to
what he said. He gave me a short penance and dismissed me.

I left the confessional irritated and confused. From the shame of what I
had just heard, I dared not raise my eyes from the ground. I went into a
corner of the church to do my penance, that is to recite the prayers which
he had indicated to me. I remained for a long time in the church. I had
need of a calm, after the terrible trial through which I had just passed.
But vainly sought I for rest. The shameful questions which had just been
asked from me, the new world of iniquity into which I been introduced, the
impure phantoms by which my childish head had been defiled, confused and
troubled my mind so strongly, that I began to weep bitterly.

I left the church only when forced to do so by the shades of night, and
came back to my