Well, he ate the salmon, but he had a cutlet cooked afterward."

"Deplorable!" I exclaimed, almost in spite of myself, so excessive did
the perversity of this man seem to me. "Patience, my child, offer up
to Heaven the sufferings which your husband's impiety causes you, and
remember that your efforts will be set down to you. You have nothing
more to tell me?"

"No, father."

"Collect yourself, then. I will give you absolution."

The dear soul sighed as she joined her two little hands.

Hardly had my penitent risen to withdraw when I abruptly closed my
little shutter and took a long pinch of snuff--snuff-takers know how
much a pinch soothes the mind--then having thanked God rapidly, I drew
from the pocket of my cassock my good old watch, and found that it was
earlier than I thought. The darkness of the chapel had deceived me, and
my stomach had shared my error. I was hungry. I banished these carnal
preoccupations from my mind, and after shaking my hands, on which
some grains of snuff had fallen, I slackened one of my braces that was
pressing a little on one shoulder, and opened my wicket.

"Well, Madame, people should be more careful," said the penitent on my
left, addressing a lady of whom I could only see a bonnet-ribbon; "it is
excusable."

My penitent's voice, which was very irritated, though restrained by
respect for the locality, softened as if by magic at the creaking of my
wicket. She knelt down, piously folded her two ungloved hands, plump,
perfumed, rosy, laden with rings--but let that pass. I seemed to
recognize the hands of the Countess de B., a chosen soul, whom I had the
honor to visit frequently, especially on Saturday, when there is always
a place laid for me at her table.

She raised her little lace veil and I saw that I was not mistaken. It
was the Countess. She smiled at me as at a person with whom she was
acquainted, but with perfect propriety; she seemed to be saying,
"Good-day, my dear Abbe, I do not ask how your rheumatism is, because
at this moment you are invested with a sacred character, but I am
interested in it all the same."

This little smile was irreproachable. I replied by a similar smile, and
I murmured in a very low tone, giving her, too, to understand by the
expression of my face that I was making a unique concession in her
favor, "Are you quite well, dear Madame?"

"Thanks, father, I am quite well." Her voice had resumed an angelic
tone. "But I have just been in a passion."