It was a woman, who was already saying her prayers and he gave the responses as well as he could, from his boyish recollections, and was somewhat agitated by the delicious scent that emanated from her half-raised veil and from her bodice; but at her first words he started so, that he almost fainted.  He had recognized his wife’s voice, and it felt to him as if his seat were studded with sharp nails, that the sides of the confessional were closing in on him, and as if the air were growing rarified.

He now collected himself, however, and regaining his self-possession, he listened to what she had to say with increasing curiosity, and with some uncertain, and necessary interruptions.  The young woman sighed, was evidently keeping back something, spoke about her unhappiness, her melancholy life, her husband’s neglect, the temptations by which she was surrounded, and which she found it so difficult to resist; her conscience seemed to be burdened by an intolerable weight, though she hesitated to accuse herself directly.  And in a low voice, with unctuous and coaxing tones, and mastering himself, Champdelin said: 

“Courage, my child; tell me everything; the divine mercy is infinite; tell me all, without hesitation.”

Then, all at once, she told him everything that was troubling her; how passion and desire had thrown her into the arms of one of her husband’s best friends, the exquisite happiness that they felt when they met every day, his delightful tenderness, which she could no longer resist, the sin which was her joy, her only object, her consolation, her dream.  She grew excited, sobbed, seemed enervated and worn out, as if she were still burning from her lover’s kisses, hardly seemed to know what she was saying, and begged for temporary absolution from her sins; but then Champdelin, in his exasperation, and unable to restrain himself any longer, interrupted her in a furious voice: 

“Oh! no!  Oh! no; this is not at all funny ... keep such sort of things to yourself, my dear!”

* * * * *

Poor little Madame de Champdelin nearly went out of her mind with fright and astonishment, and they are now waiting for the decree which will break their chains and let them part.

WAS IT A DREAM?

“I had loved her madly!  Why does one love?  Why does one love?  How queer it is to see only one being in the world, to have only one thought in one’s mind, only one desire in the heart, and only one name on the lips; a name which comes up continually, which rises like the water in a spring, from the depths of the soul, which rises to the lips, and which one repeats over and over again which one whispers ceaselessly, everywhere, like a prayer.

“I am going to tell you our story, for love only has one, which is always the same.  I met her and loved her; that is all.  And for a whole year I have lived on her tenderness, on her caresses, in her arms, in her dresses, on her words, so completely wrapped up, bound, imprisoned in everything which came from her, that I no longer knew whether it was day or night, if I was dead or alive, on this old earth of ours, or elsewhere.