on the cold marble, of the outdoor steps; but the
confessor triumphantly walks into the mysterious starry rooms, examines at
leisure their numberless and unspeakable wonders; and, alone, he is allowed
to rest his head on the soft pillows of the unbounded confidence, respect,
and love of the wife.

In the Church of Rome, if the husband asks a favour from his wife, nine
times in ten she will inquire from her father confessor whether or not she
can grant him his request, and the poor husband will have to wait patiently
for the permission of the master or the rebuke of the lord, according to
the answer of the oracle which had to be consulted! If he gets impatient
under the yoke, and murmurs, the wife will soon go to the feet of her
confessor; to tell him how she has the misfortune to be united to a most
unreasonable man, and how she has to suffer from him! She reveals to her
"dear father" how she is unhappy under such a yoke, and how her life would
be an unsupportable burden, had she not the privilege and happiness of
coming often to his feet, to lay down her sorrows, hear his sympathetic
words, and get his so affectionate and paternal advice! She tells him, with
tears of gratitude, that it is only when by his side, and at his feet, she
finds rest to her weary soul, balm to her bleeding heart, and peace to her
troubled conscience.

When she comes from the confessional, her ears are long filled as with a
heavenly music, the honeyed words of her confessor ring for many days in
her heart, she feels it lonesome to be separated from him, his image is
constantly before her mind, and the _souvenir_ of his amiabilities is one
of her most pleasant thoughts. There is nothing which she likes so much as
to speak of his good qualities, his patience, his piety, his charity, she
longs for the day when she will again go to confess, and pass a few hours
by the side of that angelic man, in opening to him all the secrets of her
heart, and in revealing all her _ennuis_. She tells him how she regrets
that she cannot come oftener to see him, and receive the benefit of his
charitable counsels; she does not even conceal from him how often, in her
dreams, she feels too happy to be with him! More and more, every day, the
gap between her and her husband widens; more and more, each day, she
regrets that she has not the happiness to be the wife of such a holy man as
her confessor! Oh! if it were possible...! But, then, she blushes or
smiles, and sings