mained silent.

XXXIX.

THE DEVIL IN PETTICOATS.

"I know an infallible means of
drawing you back from the precipice
on which you stand."

CHARLES (_Des Illustres Francaises_).

--Wretch that I am. I have defiled a pure confiding child, who came in all
loyalty to sit at my fire-side. Vile and cowardly nature, like some base
Lovelace, I have grossly abused the confidence which was placed in me. My
priestly robe, far from being a safeguard, is but a cloke for my
iniquities. I have reached that pitch of cowardice that I am no longer
master of myself.

Incapable of commanding my feelings; become the slave and the plaything of
my shameful desires and of my lustful passions!... It must have happened.
Yes, it must have happened. Sooner or later I was obliged to fall: it is
the chastisement of my presumption and pride. Ah! wretch, you wish to
subdue the flesh, you wish to reform nature, you wish to be wiser than God.
They tried at the seminary by means of _nenuphar_ and _infusions of nitre_
to quench in you the desires of youth and its rebellious passion. Vain
efforts, senseless attempts, which served only to retard your fall. In vain
you try, in vain you struggle, in vain you invoke the angels and call God
to your aid; there comes a time, a moment, a minute, a second, in which all
your life of struggles and efforts is lost. The angry flesh subdues you in
its turn, baffled nature revolts, and the Creator, whose laws you have not
recognized, abandons the worthless creature and lets him roll over, falling
into an abyss of iniquity.

Oh! my God! where is all this going to bring me? What will become of me?
How can I show my brow all covered with shame? Is not my infamy written
there?... She, she, what will she think of me?... To kiss her hand, her
soft perfumed hand. Oh God, God all-powerful, where am I? where am I going?
I said it; martyrdom or shame! It is shame which awaits me.

So spoke the Cure, when Marianne had taken away her young mistress, and his
conscience exaggerated the gravity and the consequences of his imprudent
rapture.

--Yes, it is shame, it is shame.

--Do not despair in this way, said a jeering voice.

Marcel turned round, terror-struck.

His servant was behind him.

She had approached, noiselessly, and was looking at him with her strange,
green eyes.

--Shame lies in scandal, she added sententiously. Reassure yourself; that
pretty young lady will hold her tongue.

She spoke