evident that she had not the least idea that I was
observing her; she thought the door of the little partition between her and
me was shut. But my eyes were fixed upon her; my tears were flowing with
her tears, and my ardent prayers were going to the feet of Jesus with her
prayers. I would not have interrupted her, for any consideration, in this
her sublime communion with her merciful Saviour.

But, after a pretty long time, I made a little noise with my hand, and,
putting my lips near the opening of the partition which was between us, I
said, in a low voice, "Dear sister, are you ready to begin your
confession?"

She turned her face a little towards me, and said, with a trembling voice,
"Yes, dear Father, I am ready."

But she then stopped again to weep and pray, though I could not hear what
she said.

After some time of silent prayer, I said, "My dear sister, if you are
ready, please begin your confession."

She then said, "My dear Father, do you remember the prayers which I made to
you, the other day? Can you allow me to confess my sins without forcing me
to forget the respect I owe to myself, to you, and to God, who hears us?
And can you promise that you will not put to me any of those questions
which have already done me such irreparable injury? I frankly declare to
you that there are sins in me that I cannot reveal to any man, except to
Christ, because He is my God, and that He already knows them all. Let me
weep and cry at His feet, and do forgive me without adding to my iniquities
by forcing me to say things that the tongue of a Christian woman cannot
reveal to a man!"

"My dear sister," I answered, "were I free to follow the voice of my own
feelings I would be too happy to grant you your request; but I am here only
as the minister of our holy Church, and bound to obey her laws. Through her
most holy popes and theologians, she tells me that I cannot forgive you
your sins, if you do not confess them all just as you have committed them.
The Church tells me also that you must give the details which may add to
the malice or change the nature of your sins. I am also sorry to tell you
that our most holy theologians make it a duty of the confessor to question
his penitent on the sins which he has good reason to suspect have been
voluntarily or involuntarily omitted."

With a piercing, cry she exclaimed, "Then, O my God, I am lost--for ever
lost!"

This cry fell upon me as a thunderbolt; but I was still more
t