o school I mean. An odd whim came into my head.
In a solitary part of the Cathedral six or seven people still
remained kneeling by the confessionals. In two confessionals I saw a
priest. I felt as if I did not care what I did, provided it was not
absolutely wrong, and that it served to vary my life and yield a
moment's interest. I took a fancy to change myself into a Catholic
and go and make a real confession to see what it was like. Knowing
me as you do, you will think this odd, but when people are by
themselves they have singular fancies. A penitent was occupied in
confessing. They do not go into the sort of pew or cloister which
the priest occupies, but kneel down on the steps and confess through
a grating. Both the confessor and the penitent whisper very low, you
can hardly hear their voices. After I had watched two or three
penitents go and return I approached at last and knelt down in a
niche which was just vacated. I had to kneel there ten minutes
waiting, for on the other side was another penitent invisible to me.
At last that went away and a little wooden door inside the grating
opened, and I saw the priest leaning his ear towards me. I was
obliged to begin, and yet I did not know a word of the formula with
which they always commence their confessions. It was a funny
position. I felt precisely as I did when alone on the Thames at
midnight. I commenced with saying I was a foreigner and had been
brought up a Protestant. The priest asked if I was a Protestant
then. I somehow could not tell a lie and said "yes." He replied
that in that case I could not "_jouir du bonheur de la confesse_";
but I was determined to confess, and at last he said he would allow
me because it might be the first step towards returning to the true
church. I actually did confess--a real confession. When I had done
he told me his address, and said that every morning I was to go to
the rue du Parc--to his house--and he would reason with me and try to
convince me of the error and enormity of being a Protestant!!! I
promised faithfully to go. Of course, however, the adventure stops
there, and I hope I shall never see the priest again. I think you
had better not tell papa of this. He will not understand that it was
only a freak, and will perhaps think I am going to turn Catholic.
Trusting