Marcel trembled.  He had taken the young girl’s hand, but he quickly dropped it, fearing she might observe his agitation.

—­Ah!  Suzanne continued, there are hours when I miss the school, my companions, the long cold corridors, our silent school-room, even the under-mistresses.  I am ashamed of it, and angry with myself, but I must-confess it.  Is this then that liberty I so desired?  I was a prisoner then, but I was peaceful, I was happy:  I see it now.  Weariness consumes me here.  I see no aim for my life.  I had one consolation; my religious duties.  That is taken away from me.  For my father has formally forbidden me this evening to go to church.  If I go there again, I disobey my father and I grieve him.  If I obey his orders, I take away the only happiness of my life.

She had spoken with volubility, and the priest listened to her in silence.  Hanging on her look, he drank in her words.  He heard them without comprehending exactly their meaning.  It was sweet music which charmed him, but he only thought of one thing.  She had said:  “Your looks avoided mine.”

When she had finished speaking, he was surprised to hear her no longer and listened afresh.

—­I have spoken with open heart to my confessor, said Suzanne timidly, astonished at this silence.

—­To the confessor! no, no, dear child; to the friend, to the friend, is it not?  Do you want him?  Will you trust yourself to me?  Will you let yourself be guided by me?  I will bring you by a way from which I will remove all the thorns.

—­But my father?

This was like the blow from a club to Marcel.

—­Your father!  Ah, yes! your father!  Well, but what are we going to do?

—­I have just asked you.

—­It is written in the Gospel:  “No one can serve two masters at the same time.”  You have a master who is God.  Your father places himself between God and your duty.  You must choose.

Suzanne did not reply.

—­Consult your conscience, my child.  What says your conscience?

—­My conscience says nothing to me.

Marcel thought perhaps he had gone a little too far, he added: 

—­You must decide nevertheless.  It is also written, “Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.”

—­How am I to unite the respect and submission which I owe to my father with my duties as a Christian?  That, repeated Suzanne, is what I wanted to ask you.

—­And we will solve the problem, dear child.  Yes, we will come forth from this evil pass, to our advantage and to our glory.  Nothing happens but by the will of God, and it is He, doubt it not, who has guided you into my path in order that I may take care of your young and beautiful soul.  The ancients were in the habit of marking their happy days; I count already two days in my life which I shall never obliterate from my memory, two days marked in the golden book of my remembrances.  The one is that on which I saw you for the first time.  You were in the gallery of our church.  The light was streaming behind you through the painted windows and surrounded you with a halo.  I said to myself:  “Is it not one of the virgins detached from the window?” The other is to-day.—­Do you believe in presentiments, Mademoiselle?