—­Monsieur le Cure, one only confesses on one’s knees.

—­At the confessional before the priest, yes; but it is not thus that I mean, it is not by right of this that I wish to know your little secrets, but by right of a friend.

—­I am quite confused, Monsieur le Cure.

—­There is no Cure here, there is a friend, a brother, anything you wish, but not a priest.  Are you willing?

—­I am quite willing.

—­You were talking to me lately about my predecessors, and, according to you, their conduct was not irreproachable.  What is there then to say regarding them?  Oh, don’t blush.  Answer me.

—­What do you want me to tell you?

—­They committed faults then?...

—­I have told you so, sir,—­sometimes—­like you.

—­Ah, Veronica, the greatest saint is he who sins only seven times a day.

—­Seven times!

—­Seven times, quite as much.  You find, no doubt, that I sin much more, but I am far from being a saint.  As to my predecessors, were they no greater saints?

—­Saints!  Ah, Jesus!  Do you wish me to tell you, sir?  Well, between ourselves, I believe that there are none but in the calendar.

—­Oh, Veronica, Veronica.

—­Yes, sir, I believe it in my soul and conscience, and I can add another thing still.  If, before they canonized all these saints, they had consulted their servant, perhaps they would not have found a single one of them.

—­What! you, the pious Veronica, you say such things?

—­One is pious and staid and everything you wish, but one sees what one sees.  Monsieur Fortin was accustomed to say that no one is a great man to his valet de chambre; and I add, that no one is a saint to his cook.  I tell you so.

—­But that is blasphemy, Veronica.

—­Blasphemy possibly, but it is the truth, Monsieur Marcel.

—­Have you then surprised my predecessors in some act of culpable weakness?

—­Oh, holy Virgin!  I did not surprise them, it was they on the contrary who surprised me.

—­You!...  And how then?

—­Monsieur le Cure, you don’t understand me.  You were speaking of their weakness, I meant to say that they had taken advantage of mine.

—­Ah, here we are, thought Marcel.  Is it possible?  What! of your weakness? these ecclesiastics?

—­Sir.  You are an ecclesiastic too and yet ... if Mademoiselle Suzanne Durand....

—­Don’t go on, Veronica.  I have asked you not to recall that remembrance to me.  It is wrong of you to forget that.

—­Sweet Jesus!  I don’t want to offend you.  I wanted to make you understand that since you, you have erred, the others....

—­And what have they done?

—­Ah, it is very simple, Lord Jesus!

—­Let us see.

—­I hardly know if I ought to tell you that, I am quite ashamed of it.

—­Come, let us see, speak ... you have nothing to be afraid of before me ... speak, Veronica, speak.