that
she had given up to the abbess what remained of the alms the bishop had
procured her.

"As to my state when I was so fortunate as to meet you, I think he cannot
have received my letter."

"Possibly, but is he a rich or handsome man?"

"He is rich but certainly not handsome. On the contrary, he is extremely
ugly, deformed, and over fifty."

"How did you become amorous of a fellow like that?"

"I never loved him, but he contrived to gain my pity. I thought he would
kill himself, and I promised to be in the garden on the night he
appointed, but I only went there with the intention of bidding him
begone, and he did so, but after he had carried his evil designs into
effect."

"Did he use violence towards you, then?"

"No, for that would have been no use. He wept, threw himself on his
knees, and begged so hard, that I let him do what he liked on the
condition that he would not kill himself, and that he would come no more
to the garden."

"Had you no fear of consequences?"

"I did not understand anything about it; I always thought that one could
not conceive under three times at least."

"Unhappy ignorance! how many woes are caused by it! Then he did not ask
you to give him any more assignations?"

"He often asked me, but I would not grant his request because our
confessor made me promise to withstand him thenceforth, if I wished to be
absolved."

"Did you tell him the name of the seducer?"

"Certainly not; the good confessor would not have allowed me to do so; it
would have been a great sin."

"Did you tell your confessor the state you were in?"

"No, but he must have guessed it. He is a good old man, who doubtless
prayed to God for me, and my meeting you was, perhaps, the answer to his
prayers."

I was deeply moved, and for a quarter of an hour I was silent, and
absorbed in my thoughts. I saw that this interesting girl's misfortune
proceeded from her ignorance, her candour, her perfect innocence, and a
foolish feeling of pity, which made her grant this monster of lubricity a
thing of which she thought little because she had never been in love. She
was religious, but from mere habit and not from reflection, and her
religion was consequently very weak. She abhorred sin, because she was
obliged to purge herself of it by confession under pain of everlasting
damnation, and she did not want to be damned. She had plenty of natural
common sense, little wit, for the cultivation of which she had no
opportu