at I say to myself, father, but my husband unites with his
kindness such a communicative gayety--he has such a graceful and natural
way of excusing his impiety--that I laugh in spite of myself when I ought
to weep. It seems to me that a cloud comes between myself and my duties,
and my scruples evaporate beneath the charm of his presence and his wit.
My husband has plenty of wit," she added, with a faint smile, in which
there was a tinge of pride.

"Hum! hum!" (the blackness of this man's heart revolted me). "There is no
seductive shape that the tempter does not assume, my child. Wit in itself
is not to be condemned, although the Church shuns it as far as she is
concerned, looking upon it as a worldly ornament; but it may become
dangerous, it may be reckoned a veritable pest when it tends to weaken
faith. Faith, which is to the soul, I hardly need tell you, what the
bloom is to the peach, and--if I may so express myself, what the--dew
is--to the flower--hum, hum! Go on, my child."

"But, father, when my husband has disturbed me for a moment, I soon
repent of it. He has hardly gone before I pray for him."

"Good, very good."

"I have sewn a blessed medal up in his overcoat." This was said more
boldly, though still with some timidity.

"And have you noticed any result?"

"In certain things he is better, yes, father, but as regards abstinence
he is still intractable," she said with embarrassment.

"Do not be discouraged. We are in the holy period of Lent. Make use of
pious subterfuges, prepare him some admissible viands, but pleasant to
the taste."

"Yes, father, I have thought of that. The day before yesterday I gave him
one of these salmon pasties that resemble ham."

"Yes, yes, I know them. Well?"

"Well, he ate the salmon, but he had a cutlet cooked afterward."

"Deplorable!" I exclaimed, almost in spite of myself, so excessive did
the perversity of this man seem to me. "Patience, my child, offer up to
Heaven the sufferings which your husband's impiety causes you, and
remember that your efforts will be set down to you. You have nothing more
to tell me?"

"No, father."

"Collect yourself, then. I will give you absolution."

The dear soul sighed as she joined her two little hands.

Hardly had my penitent risen to withdraw when I abruptly closed my little
shutter and took a long pinch of snuff--snuff-takers know how much a
pinch soothes the mind--then having thanked God rapidly, I drew from the
pocket of