said that to you in order to
blame you. Quite the contrary, I was astonished that with a temperament ...
as strong as yours, you have remained free from fault till to-day.

--And, please God, I will always remain so.

--Oh! God does not ask for impossibilities, as my old master, Monsieur le
Cure Fortin, used to say: he was a good-natured man. He often repeated to
me: "You see, Veronica, provided appearances are saved, everything is
saved. God is content, he asks for no more."

--What, the Abbe Fortin said that?

--Yes, and many other things too. He was so honest, so delicate a man--not
more than you, however, Monsieur le Cure--but he understood his case better
than any other. He said again: "Beware of bad example, keep yourself from
scandal. Dirty linen should be washed at home." Good rules, are they not,
Monsieur Marcel?

--Certainly.

--He knew so well how to compassionate human infirmities. Ah! when nature
speaks, she speaks very loudly.

--Do you know anything about it, Veronica?

--Who does not know it? I can certainly acknowledge that to you, since you
are my Cure and my confessor.

--That is true, Veronica.

--And to whom should a poor servant acknowledge her secret thoughts, if not
to her Cure and her confessor? He is her only friend in this world, is he
not?

The Cure did not reply. He considered the strange shape the conversation
was taking, and cast a look of defiance at the woman.

--You do not answer, sir, she said. You do not look upon me as your friend,
that is wrong. Is it because I have surprised your secrets?

--I have no secrets.

--Yes?.... Suzanne?

--Enough on that subject. Do not revive my shame, since you call yourself
my friend.

--Oh! sir, it is precisely for that, it is because I do not want you to
distress yourself about so little. Listen to me, sir, I am older than you,
and although I am not so learned, I have the experience which, as they say,
is not picked up in books: well, this experience has taught me many things
which perhaps you do not suspect.

--Explain yourself.

--I would have explained already, if you had wished it. The other evening
you were quite sad, sitting by that fireless grate; you were thinking of I
don't know what, but certainly it was not of anything very lively, so much
so that it went to my heart. I suspected what was vexing you; I wanted to
speak to you, but you repulsed me almost brutally. Nevertheless, if you had
listened to me that day, wha