Madame F—­In point of fact, what really is dogma?

Madame H—­Well, it is what can not be attacked.  Thus, for instance, a thing that is evident, you understand me, is unassailable, . . . or else it should be assailed, . . in short, it can not be attacked.  That is why it is monstrous to allow the Jewish religion and the Protestant religion in France, because these religions can be assailed, for they have no dogma.  I give you this briefly, but in your prayer-book you will find the list of dogmas.  I am a rod of iron as regards dogmas.  My husband, who, as I said, has succeeded in inspiring me with doubts on many matters—­without imagining it, for he has never required anything of me; I must do him that justice—­but who, at any rate, has succeeded in making me neglect many things belonging to religion, such as fasting, vespers, sermons, . . . confession.

Madame F—­Confession!  Oh! my dear, I should never have believed that.

Madame H—­It is in confidence, dear pet, that I tell you this.  You will swear never to speak of it?

Madame F—­Confession!  Oh! yes, I swear it.  Come here, and let me kiss you.

Madame H—­You pity me, do you not?

Madame F—­I can not pity you too much, for I am absolutely in the same position.

Madame H—­You, too!  Good heavens! how I love you.  What can one do, eh?  Must one not introduce some plan of conciliation into the household, sacrifice one’s belief a little to that of one’s husband?

Madame F—­No doubt.  For instance, how would you have me go to high mass, which is celebrated at my parish church at eleven o’clock exactly?  That is just our breakfast time.  Can I let my husband breakfast alone?  He would never hinder me from going to high mass, he has said so a thousand times, only he has always added, “When you want to go to mass during breakfast time, I only ask one thing—­it is to give me notice the day before, so that I may invite some friends to keep me company.”

Madame H—­But only fancy, pet, our two husbands could not be more alike if they were brothers.  Leon has always said, “My dear little chicken—­”

Madame F—­Ha! ha! ha!

Madame H—­Yes, that is his name for me; you know how lively he is.  He has always said to me, then, “My dear little chicken, I am not a man to do violence to your opinions, but in return give way to me as regards some of your pious practices.”  I only give you the mere gist of it; it was said with a thousand delicacies, which I suppress.  And I have agreed by degrees, . . . so that, while only paying very little attention to the outward observances of religion, I have remained, as I told you, a bar of iron as regards dogmas.  Oh! as to that, I would not give way an inch, a hair-breadth, and Leon is the first to tell me that I am right.  After all, dogma is everything; practice, well, what would you?  If I could bring Leon round, it would be quite another thing.  How glad I am to have spoken to you about all this.