“Ah!” cried Chicot, with a doleful voice, “is it my private life I am to speak of?”
“Yes.”
“I acknowledge, then, that I am effeminate, idle, and hypocritical.”
“It is true.”
“I have ill-treated my wife—such a worthy woman.”
“One ought to love one’s wife as one’s self, and prefer her to all things,” said the voice, angrily.
“Ah!” cried Chicot, “then I have sinned deeply.”
“And you have made others sin by your example.”
“It is true.”
“Especially that poor St. Luc; and if you do not send him home to-morrow to his wife, there will be no pardon for you.”