them of questions on which a man of
honour ought never to converse with a woman whom he respects.

But, alas! I had soon to reproach myself and regret these short instances
of my wavering faith in the infallible voice of my Church; I had soon to
silence the voice of my conscience, which was telling me, "Is it not a
shame that you, an unmarried man, dare to speak on those matters with a
woman? Do you not blush to put such questions to a young girl? Where is
your self-respect? where is your fear of God? Do you not promote the ruin
of that girl by forcing her to speak with a man on such questions?"

I was compelled by all the Popes, the moral theologians, and the Councils
of Rome, to believe that this warning voice of my merciful God was the
voice of Satan; I had to believe, in spite of my own conscience and
intelligence, that it was good, nay, necessary, to put those polluting,
damning questions. My infallible Church was mercilessly forcing me to
oblige those poor, trembling, weeping, desolated girls and women to swim
with me and all her priests in those waters of Sodom and Gomorrha, under
the pretext that their self-will would be broken down, their fear of sin
and humility increased, and that they would be purified by our absolutions.

In the beginning of my priesthood, I was not a little surprised and
embarrassed to see a very accomplished and beautiful young lady, whom I
used to meet almost every week in her father's house, entering the box of
my confessional. She used to go to confess to another young priest of my
acquaintance, and she was looked upon as one of the most pious girls of the
city. Though she had disguised herself as much as possible, that I might
not know her, I thought that I was not mistaken--she was the amiable Mary
* * * *

Not being absolutely sure of the correctness of my impressions, I left her
entirely under the hope that she was a perfect stranger to me. At the
beginning she could hardly speak; her voice was suffocated by her sobs;
and, through the little apertures of the thin partition between her and me,
I saw two streams of big tears trickling down her cheeks.

After much effort, she said: "Dear Father, I hope you do not know me, and
that you will never try to know me. I am a desperately great sinner. Oh! I
fear that I am lost! But if there is still any hope for me to be saved, for
God's sake, do not rebuke me! Before I begin my confession, allow me to ask
you not to pollute my ears by th