e_. May they, without
offence to God, enjoy a _Charlotte_? There are eggs in it, to be sure,
but so whipped and scourged that the dish is almost ascetic; culinary
explanations are poured into my ear, the confessional becomes a kitchen,
and the priest might be a master-cook.

"But as to the general sin of greediness, they hardly admit that they
are guilty of it. Is it not so, my dear colleague?"

The Abbe Gevresin nodded assent. "They are indeed hollow souls," said
he, "and what is more, impenetrable. They are sealed against every
generous idea, regarding the intercourse they hold with the Redeemer as
beseeming their rank and in good style; but they never seek to know Him
more nearly, and restrict themselves, of deliberate purpose, to calls of
politeness."

"Such visits as we pay to an aged parent on New Year's Day," said
Durtal.

"No, at Easter," corrected Madame Bavoil.

"And among these Fair Penitents," the Abbe Plomb went on, "we have that
terrible variety, the wife of the Depute who votes on the wrong side,
and to his wife's objurgations retorts: 'Why, I am at heart a better
Christian than you are!'

"Invariably and every time, she repeats the list of her husband's
private virtues, and deplores his conduct as a public man; and this
history, which is never ending, always leads up to the praises she
awards herself, almost to requiring us to apologize for all the
annoyance the Church occasions her."

The Abbe Gevresin smiled, and said,--

"When I was in Paris, attached to one of the parishes on the left bank
of the Seine, in which there is a huge draper's and fancy shop, I had to
deal with a very curious class of women. Especially on days when there
was a great show of cotton and linen goods, or a sale of bankrupt stock,
there was a perfect rush of well-dressed women to the confessional.
These people lived on the other side of the water; they had come to that
part of the town to buy bargains, and finding the departments of the
shop too full, no doubt, they meant to wait till the crowd should be
thinner, to make their selection in comfort; so then, not knowing what
to be doing, they took refuge in the church, and, tortured by the need
for speech, they asked for the priest whose turn it was to attend, and
to justify themselves, chattered in the confessional as if it had been a
drawing-room, merely to kill time."

"Not being able to go to a _cafe_ like a man, they go to church," said
Durtal.

"Unless it is,"