of her confessions, by her constantly recurring to that
scene of violence, that scene in which her perfectly sincere purpose to
resist seemed to the priest to have been betrayed by a convulsion of the
senses that was stronger than she.

This fever of religion lasted several years, during which Germinie lived
a concentrated, silent, happy life, entirely devoted to God's
service--at least she thought so. Her confessor, however, had come
gradually to the conclusion that all her adoration tended toward
himself. By her glances, by her blushes, by the words she no longer said
to him, and by others which she made bold to say to him for the first
time, he realized that his penitent's devotion was going astray and
becoming unduly fervent, deceiving itself as to its object. She watched
for him when the services were at an end, followed him into the
sacristy, hung on his skirts, ran into the church after his cassock. The
confessor tried to warn her, to divert her amorous fervor from himself.
He became more reserved and assumed a cold demeanor. In despair at this
change, at his apparent indifference, Germinie, feeling bitter and hurt,
confessed to him one day, in the confessional, the hatred that had taken
possession of her for two young girls, who were his favorite penitents.
Thereupon the priest dismissed her, without discussion, and sent her to
another confessor. Germinie went once or twice to confess to this other
confessor; then she ceased to go; soon she ceased even to think of
going, and of all her religion naught remained in her mind but a certain
far-off sweetness, like the faint odor of burned-out incense.

Affairs had reached that point when mademoiselle fell ill. Throughout
her illness, as Germinie did not want to leave her, she did not attend
mass. And on the first Sunday--when mademoiselle, being fully recovered,
did not require her care, she was greatly surprised to find that "her
devotee" remained at home and did not run away to church.

"Oho!" said she, "so you don't go and see your cures nowadays? What have
they done to you, eh?"

"Nothing," said Germinie.

V

"There, mademoiselle!--Look at me," said Germinie.

It was a few months later. She had asked her mistress's permission to go
that evening to the wedding ball of her grocer's sister, who had chosen
her for her maid-of-honor, and she had come to exhibit herself _en
grande toilette_, in her low-necked muslin dress.

Mademoiselle raised her eyes