ing been beaten by him, knew him by this token for
her lord and husband. Who has this right in our age? The husband has
not preserved it--the priest has it and uses it: he ever holds over
woman the rod of authority; he beats her submissive and docile with
spiritual rods. But he who can punish, can also pardon; the only one
who can be severe, he alone has also what with a timid person is
accounted supreme grace--clemency. One word of pardon gains for him
instantly, in that poor frightened heart, more than the most worthy
would obtain after years of perseverance. Kindness acts just in
proportion to the severities and terrors that have preceded it. No
seduction is comparable to this.

How can that man be resisted, who, to force one to love him, can entice
by the offer of Paradise, or frighten by the terrors of hell? This
unexpected return of kindness is a very dangerous moment for her, who,
conquered by fear, with her forehead in the dust, expects only the fury
of the thunderbolt. What! that formidable judge, that angel of
judgment, is suddenly melted! She, who felt already the cold blade of
the sword, feels now the warmth of a kind friendly hand, which raises
her from the earth. The transition is too great for her; she had still
held up against fear, but this kindness overcomes her. Worn out by her
alternate hopes and fears, the feeble person becomes weakness itself.

To be able to have all, and then abstain, is a slippery situation! who
will keep his footing on this declivity?

Here we find again, in the path of desire, the very point at which we
had just now arrived by the path of pride.

Desire, despised at first by pride, as brutal and coarse, turns
sophist, and puts before him the terrible problem at which love,
mingled with dread, flinches, and turns away his sight. He sees
without daring to look, he puts up his hand before his eyes, but with
his fingers apart, like the _Vergognosa_ of the Campo-Santo.

"Are you sure you possess the heart entirely, if you have not the body?
Will not physical possession give up corners of the soul, which
otherwise would remain inaccessible? Is spiritual dominion complete,
if it does not comprehend the other? The great popes seem to have
settled the question: they thought popedom implied empire; and the pope
himself, besides his sway over consciences, was king in temporal
matters."

Against this sophism of the flesh, the spirit still struggles, and does
not fail t