"And why? Perhaps you have taken for a passion what was really only a
passing moment of temper?"

It does not do to alarm penitents.

"Ah! not at all, it was really a passion, father. My dress had just been
torn from top to bottom; and really it is strange that one should be
exposed to such mishaps on approaching the tribunal of----"

"Collect yourself, my dear Madame, collect yourself," and assuming a
serious look I bestowed my benediction upon her.

The Countess sought to collect herself, but I saw very well that
her troubled spirit vainly strove to recover itself. By a singular
phenomenon I could see into her brain, and her thoughts appeared to me
one after the other. She was saying to herself, "Let me collect myself;
our Father, give me grace to collect myself," but the more effort
she made to restrain her imagination the more it became difficult
to restrain and slipped through her fingers. "I had made a serious
examination of my conscience, however," she added. "Not ten minutes ago
as I was getting out of my carriage I counted up three sins; there was
one above all I wished to mention. How these little things escape me! I
must have left them in the carriage." And she could not help smiling to
herself at the idea of these three little sins lost among the cushions.
"And the poor Abbe waiting for me in his box. How hot it must be in
there! he is quite red. Good Heavens! how shall I begin? I can not
invent faults? It is that torn dress which has upset me. And there is
Louise, who is to meet me at five o'clock at the dressmaker's. It is
impossible for me to collect myself. O God, do not turn away your face
from me, and you, Lord, who can read in my soul--Louise will wait till a
quarter past five; besides, the bodice fits--there is only the skirt to
try on. And to think that I had three sins only a minute ago."

All these different thoughts, pious and profane, were struggling
together at once in the Countess's brain, so that I thought the moment
had come to interfere and help her a little.

"Come," I said, in a paternal voice, leaning forward benevolently and
twisting my snuff-box in my fingers. "Come, my dear Madame, and speak
fearlessly; have you nothing to reproach yourself with? Have you had no
impulses of--worldly coquetry, no wish to dazzle at the expense of your
neighbor?"

I had a vague idea that I should not be contradicted.

"Yes, father," she said, smoothing down her bonnet strings, "sometimes;
bu