And the servant, picking up the corner of her apron, burst into tears.

—­Why!  Veronica, are you mad?  Why do you cry so?  Who has made you suppose that I was not satisfied with you?  I may have spoken harshly to you, it is possible; but it was in a moment of excitement or of impatience, which I regret.  You well know that I am not ill-natured.

—­Oh, no, sir, that is just what grieves me.  You are so kind to everybody.  You are only severe to me.

—­You are wrong again, Veronica.  I may have felt hurt at your indiscretion, but that is all.  Put yourself in my place, and you will allow that it is humiliating for a priest....

—­Do not speak of that again, Monsieur le Cure.  You are very wrong to disturb yourself about it, and if you had had confidence in me before, I should have told you that all have acted like you, all have gone through that, all, all.

—­What do you mean?

—­I mean that young and old have fallen into the same fault....  If we can call it a fault, as Monsieur Fortin used to say.  And the old still more than the young.  After that, perhaps you will say to me that it is the place which is wicked.

—­Be silent, Veronica.  What you say is very wrong, for if I perfectly understand you, you are bringing an infamous accusation against my predecessors.  Perhaps you think to palliate my fault thus in my own eyes.  I thank you for the intention, but it is an improper course, and the reproach which you try to cast upon the worthy priests who have succeeded one another in this parish, takes away none of my remorse.

—­Monsieur Fortin had not so many scruples.  He was, however, a most respectable man, and one who never dared to look a young girl in her face, he was so bashful.  “Well,” he often used to say, “God has well done all that he has done, and He is too wise to be angry when we make use of His benefits!”

—­That is rather an elastic morality.

—­It was Monsieur Fortin who taught me that.  After all, that is perhaps morality in word, you are ... morality in deed.

—­Veronica, you are strangely misusing the rights which I have allowed you to take.

—­Do not put yourself in a rage, Monsieur le Cure, if I talk to you so.  I wanted to persuade you thoroughly that you can rely upon me in everything, that I can keep a secret, though you sometimes call me a tattler, and that I am not, after all, such a worthless girl as you believe.  We like, when the moment has come to get ourselves appreciated, to profit by it to our utmost.

—­Veronica, said Marcel, I hardly know what you want to arrive at; but I wish to speak frankly to you, since you have behaved frankly towards me.  I recognize all the wisdom of your proceeding, although you will agree it has something offensive and humiliating for me, but after all, it is preferable that you should come and tell me this to my face, than that you should go and chatter in the village and tattle without my knowledge.