The Bishop of Meaux excused himself, saying that he knew Greek, Syriac, and even Hebrew; but that, through a fatality, he was ignorant of the German language.  A trumpeter was then sent out to ask if there was not in the country a Catholic priest who was a German, or acquainted with the German tongue.  Luckily one was found, and Madame de Maintenon, who is very, pedantic, even in the matter of toilet and ornaments, trembled with joy and thanked God for it.  But what was her astonishment when they came to bring her the priest!  He was in coloured clothes, a silk doublet, flowing peruke, and boots and spurs.  The lady in waiting rated him severely, and was tempted to send him back.  But Bossuet—­a far greater casuist than she—­decided that in these urgent cases one need hold much less to forms.  They were contented with taking away the spurs from this amphibious personage; they pushed him into a confessional,—­the curtain of which he was careful to draw before himself,—­and they brought the Bavarian Princess, who, not knowing the circumstances, confessed the sins of her whole life to this sort of soldier.

Madame de Maintenon always had this general confession on her conscience; she scolded Bossuet for it as a sort of sacrilege, and the latter, who was only difficult and particular with simple folk, quoted historical examples in which soldiers, on the eve of battle, had confessed to their general.

“Yes,” said the King, on hearing these quotations from the imperturbable man; “that must have been to the Bishop of Puy or the Bishop of Orange, who, in effect, donned the shield and cuirass at the time of the crusades against the Saracens; or perhaps, again, to the Cardinal de la Valette d’Epernon, who commanded our armies under Richelieu successfully.”

“No, Sire,” replied the Bishop; “to generals who were simply soldiers.”

“But,” said the King, “were the confessions, then, null?”

“Sire,” added the Bishop of Meaux, “circumstances decide everything.  Of old, in the time of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, and much later still, confessions of Christians were public,—­made in a loud voice; sometimes a number together, and always in the open air.  Those of soldiers that I have quoted to madame were somewhat of the kind of these confessions of the primitive Church; and to-day, still, at the moment when battle is announced, a military almoner gives the signal for confession.  The regiments confess on their knees before the Most High, who hears them; and the almoner, raised aloft on a pile of drums, holds the crucifix in one hand, and with the other gives the general absolution to eighty thousand soldiers at once.”

This clear and precise explanation somewhat calmed Madame de Maintenon, and Madame la Dauphine,—­displeased at what she had done on arriving,—­in order to be regular, learned to confess in French.

CHAPTER XV.