desire to force the hand of her interlocutor.

"You are a proud, obstinate girl!" exclaimed the Abbe, rising abruptly,
"you wish to compel me to reveal this secret! Well, have your way! I
will tell you. May the harm which may result from it fall lightly upon
you, and do not hereafter reproach me for the pain I am about to inflict
upon you."

He checked himself for a moment, again joined his hands, and raising his
eyes toward heaven ejaculated fervently, as if repeating his devotions
in the oratory: "O Lord, thou knowest I would have spared her this
bitter cup, but, between two evils, I have avoided the greater. If I
forfeit my solemn promise, consider, O Lord, I pray thee, that I do
it to avoid disgrace and exposure for her, and deign to forgive thy
servant!"

He seated himself again, placed one of his hands before his eyes, and
began, in a hollow voice, Reine, all the while gazing nervously at him:

"My child, you are forcing me to violate a secret which has been
solemnly confided to me. It concerns a matter not usually talked about
before young girls, but you are, I believe, already a woman in heart
and understanding, and you will hear resignedly what I have to tell you,
however much the recital may trouble you. I have already informed you
that your marriage with Claudet is impossible. I now declare that it
would be criminal, for the reason that incest is an abomination."

"Incest!" repeated Reine, pale and trembling, "what do you mean?"

"I mean," sighed the cure, "that you are Claudet's sister, not having
the same mother, but the same father: Claude-Odouart de Buxieres."

"Oh! you are mistaken! that cannot be!"

"I am stating facts. It grieves me to the heart, my dear child, that in
speaking of your deceased mother, I should have to reveal an error over
which she lamented, like David, with tears of blood. She confessed her
sin, not to the priest, but to a friend, a few days before her death.
In justice to her memory, I ought to add that, like most of the
unfortunates seduced by this untamable de Buxieres, she succumbed to his
wily misrepresentations. She was a victim rather than an accomplice. The
man himself acknowledged as much in a note entrusted to my care, which I
have here."

And the Abbe' drew from his pocket an old, worn letter, the writing
yellow with age, and placed it before Reine. In this letter, written
in Claude de Buxieres's coarse, sprawling hand, doubtless in reply to a
reproachful appeal