In my examinations of conscience I had not foreseen that I should be obliged to give the reasons for mocking the priest; and I was really thunderstruck by his questions. I dared not answer, and I remained for a long time dumb, from the shame that overpowered me. But with a harrassing perseverance the priest insisted on my telling why I had mocked him; telling me that I should be damned if I did not tell the whole truth. So I decided to speak, and said, “I mocked you for several things.”
“What made you first mock me?” continued the priest.
“I laughed at you because you lisped. Among the pupils of our school, it often happens that we imitate your preaching to excite laughter.”
“Have you often done that?”
“Almost every day, especially in our holidays, and since you preached against us.”
“For what other reasons did you laugh at me, my little boy?”
For a long time I was silent. Every time I opened my mouth to speak courage failed me. However, the priest continuing to urge me, I said at last, “It is rumored in town that you love girls; that you visit the Misses Richards every evening, and this often makes us laugh.”
The poor priest was evidently overwhelmed by my answer, and ceased questioning me on this subject. Changing the conversation, he said:
“What are your other sins?”
I began to confess them in the order in which they came to my memory. But the feeling of shame which overpowered me in repeating all my sins to this man was a thousand times greater than that of having offended God. In reality this feeling of human shame which absorbed my thought—nay, my whole being—left no room for any religious feeling at all.