and went away to a village near Saint-Die.  He said to my aunt:  “You cannot leave Veronica alone at Mirecourt; she will soon be fifteen; she is tall and nice-looking; she will run too much risk, and we must take her with us; but as it would make these foolish peasants chatter if their Cure had a strange young girl in the house, she shall pass as my niece.  What do you say to this proposal?” My aunt was delighted and agreed to it directly, and all the more because I would have to assist her in the household work, and that her labour would thus be lightened.  They took me away from my situation, they taught me my lesson, and I went away with them, very pleased to be Monsieur le Cure’s niece.  Ah! that was the best time of my life.  My aunt spoilt me, Monsieur le Cure was excessively fond of me, I had all my wishes.  All the ladies in the neighbourhood spoke to me civilly, the Collector’s wife, the lawyer’s wife, the Mayoress, the wife of the exciseman, they all, in short, made much of me.  Mademoiselle Veronica here!  Mademoiselle Veronica there!  I had my place in the gallery.  They invited me to dinner and they were rivals as to who should make me little presents, as if I were really his true niece; everybody believed it, and my aunt herself, by dint of hearing it said, ended by believing it herself, for she never called me anything else than Mademoiselle Veronica.

Unfortunately after some time my aunt died.  When we had both of us wept copiously for her, Monsieur le Cure said to me:  “Now your aunt is dead, Veronica, what are you going to do?” I made no answer and burst again into tears.  “You must not cry like that, little one, you will spoil your pretty eyes; will you remain with me? will you continue to be my niece?” That was my dream; I asked for nothing more.  I thanked Monsieur Braqueminet with all my soul, and told him that as he wanted me to be his niece, I would remain his niece all my life.—­“That is agreed,” he said to me, “you shall keep my little house for me, and I will take another maid-servant for the heavy work only.”  For he was so nice to me that he would not allow me to fatigue myself in anything.  Ah, the men, Monsieur le Cure, who can trust the men!  See what he has made of me after all his fine promises:  a poor servant, nothing more.

—­Had he then any reason to complain of you?

—­To complain of me! ah, sweet Paschal Lamb!  Never has he said a word of reproach.  But since I am in the mood to tell you everything, I may as well do so at once.  It was he who had my innocence.

—­What! it was not the Abbe Fortin then?

-No, Monsieur le Cure, it was the Abbe Braqueminet.

—­And how did he go to work to have your innocence?

—­Ah, he was a very clever man.  First he knew how to inspire affection, he was so kind to me.  It was I who managed everything.  I was mistress of all, although so young, and, pray believe me, everything proceeded well.  But ... one fine day a real niece turned up, no one knows whence ... and, faith, I was obliged to retire.  I might have made an exposure, but I preferred to sacrifice myself.