"Another, during the delirium of a typhoid fever, from which she was suffering, was constantly imitating the action of sending kisses to her confessor, who stood by the side of her bed. He, covered with blushes on account of the presence of strangers, held a crucifix before the eyes of the penitent, and in a commiserating tone exclaimed,—
"'Poor thing! kiss thy own spouse!'"
Page 168:—"Under the bonds of secrecy, an educanda, of fine form and pleasing manners, and of a noble family, confided to me the fact of her having received, from the hands of her confessor, a very interesting book (as she described it), which related to the monastic life. I expressed the wish to know the title, and she, before showing it to me, took the precaution to lock the door.
"It proved to be the Monaca, by Dalembert, a book, as all know, filled with the most disgusting obscenity."
Page 169:—"I received once from a monk, a letter in which he signified to me that he had hardly seen me, when 'he conceived the sweet hope of becoming my confessor.' An exquisite of the first water, a fop of scents and euphuism, could not have employed phrases more melodramic, to demand whether he might hope or despair."
Page 169:—"A priest who enjoyed the reputation of being an incorruptible sacerdote, when he saw me pass through the parlatorio, used to address me as follows:—
"'Ps, dear, come here! Ps, Ps, come here!'
"These words, addressed to me by a priest, were nauseous in the extreme.
"Finally, another priest, the most annoying of all for his obstinate assiduity, sought to secure my affections at all cost. There was not an image profane poetry could afford him, nor a sophism he could borrow from rhetoric, nor wily interpretation he could give to the Word of God, which he did not employ to convert me to his wishes. Here is an example of his logic:—
"'Fair daughter,' said he to me one day, 'knowest thou who God truly is?'