ded
that she will not do?"

ERNEST FEYDEAU (_La Comtesse de Chalis_).

That same day, after supper, the Captain had entered the drawing-room where
Suzanne was playing the _Requiem_ of Mozart.

--So you are playing Church airs now? he said to her.

--Don't you like this piece, father?

--Not at all.

--Perhaps, said Suzanne smiling, because it is a Mass.

--My dear child, do you want me to tell you what you are with all your
Masses?

--What?

--Where did you go this morning?

--At what time?

--At the time when you went out.

--I only went out to go to Mass.

--And the day before yesterday?

--Why this questioning, dearest papa?

--Ah! dearest papa, dearest papa. There is no dearest papa here, I want to
know the truth.

--But what truth? I have nothing wrong to hide from you. I went to Mass. Is
that forbidden?

--To Mass! Good Heavens! To Mass! That is most decidedly making up your
mind to disobey me!

--But papa, you have not forbidden it to me.

--Not in so many words, it is true; because I counted on your reason and
good sense. Have I not spoken loudly enough my way of thinking on this
subject?

--But, papa, your way of thinking is completely contrary to that which I
have been taught. You ought to have said when you sent me to Saint-Denis:
"You are not to teach my daughter any religion." They have taught me
religion, what is more natural than for me to follow it.

--And what has your religion in common with your Mass? If you want to pray
to God, can you not pray to him at home?

--Am I not a Catholic before all?

It was the first time that Suzanne had spoken to her father in this firm
and decided tone. Nothing more was wanted to irritate the irascible
soldier:

--Ah! I know the hidden and villainous insinuation! he cried, Catholic
before all! It is that indeed. Before being daughter! before being wife!
before being mother! the Church, the priest first; the rest only comes
after. The Mass, the Church! the Church, the Mass! With that they cover
every vileness. Well, do you want me to tell you what I think of women who
frequent churches? They are either lazy, or hypocrites, or idiots, or
finally hussies in love with the Cure. There are no others. In which
category do you want to be placed, my daughter?

--And all that because I discharge my religious duties!

--You have spoken to that Cure? I see it. Where have you spoken to him?

--I have nothing to hide from you, father; but Mo