iked soft pretty things. Well, there
was a young party who was always prowling round him, the daughter of a
miller, whom her parents had sent to a boarding-school. Well, to put it
shortly, what was likely to happen did happen. When the story got about,
all the neighbourhood was very indignant with the Abbe. But he managed
to escape to Rouen, and poured out his grief to the Archbishop there.
Then he was sent here. The poor man was punished quite enough by being
made to live in this hole of a place. I heard of the girl afterwards.
She had married a cattle-dealer, and was very happy.'

La Teuse, delighted at having been allowed to tell her story,
interpreted the priest's silence as an encouragement to continue her
gossiping. So she drew a little nearer to him and said:

'He was very friendly with me, was good Monsieur Caffin, and often spoke
to me of his sin. It won't keep him out of heaven, I'm sure. He can rest
quite peacefully out there under the turf, for he never harmed any one.
For my part, I can't understand why people should get so angry with a
priest when such a thing unhappily befalls him. Of course it's wrong,
and likely to anger God; but then one can confess and repent, and get
absolution. Isn't it so, your reverence, that when one truly repents,
one is saved in spite of one's sins?'

Abbe Mouret slowly raised his head. By a supreme effort he had overcome
his agony, and though his face was still very pale, he exclaimed in a
firm voice, 'One should never sin; never! never!'

'Ah! sir,' cried the old servant, 'you are too proud and reserved. It is
not a nice thing, that pride of yours.--If I were in your place, I would
not harden myself like that. I would talk of what was troubling me, and
not try to rend my heart in pieces. You should reconcile yourself to the
separation gradually. The worry wears off little by little. But, instead
of that, you won't even allow people's names to be uttered. You forbid
them to be mentioned. It is as though they were dead. Since you came
back, I have not dared to tell you the least bit of news. Well, well,
I am going to speak now, and I shall tell you all I know; because I see
quite well that it is all this silence that is preying upon your heart.'

He looked at her sternly, and lifted his finger to silence her.

'Yes, yes,' she went on, 'I get news from over yonder, very often
indeed, and I am going to tell it to you. To begin with, there is some
one there who is no happier