I began to confess them according to the order in which they came to my memory. But the feeling of shame which overpowered me, in repeating all my sins to that man, was a thousand times greater than that of having offended God. In reality, this feeling of human shame, which absorbed my thoughts, nay, my whole being, left no room for any religious feeling at all.
When I had confessed all the sins I could remember, the priest began to put to me the strangest questions about matters on which my pen must be silent.... I replied "Father, I do not understand what you ask me."
"I question you," he answered, "on the the sins of the sixth commandment of God, (the seventh in the Bible) Do confess all, my little boy, for you will go to hell if, through your fault you omit any thing."
And thereupon he dragged my thoughts into regions of iniquity which, thanks be to God, had been hitherto quite unknown to me.
I answered him again, "I do not understand you," or "I have never done those wicked things."
Then, skillfully shifting to some secondary matters, he would soon slyly and cunningly come back to his favorite subject, namely, sins of licentiousness.
His questions were so unclean that I blushed and felt nauseated with disgust and shame. More than once, I had been to my great regret, in the company of bad boys, but not one of them had offended my moral nature so much as this priest had done. Not one of them had ever approached the shadow of the things from which that man tore the veil, and which he placed before the eyes of my soul. In vain I told him that I was not guilty of those things; that I did not even understand what he asked me; but he would not let me off.
Like a vulture bent upon tearing the poor defenceless bird that falls into its claws, that cruel priest seemed determined to defile and ruin my heart.
At last, he asked me a question in a form of expression so bad that I was really pained and put beside myself. I felt as if I had received the shock from an electric battery: a feeling of horror made me shudder. I was filled with such indignation that speaking loud enough to be heard by many, I told him: "Sir, I am very wicked, but I was never guilty of what you mention to me: please don't ask me any more of those questions which will teach me more wickedness than I ever knew."
The remainder of my confession was short. The stern rebuke I had given him had evidently made that priest blush, if it had not frightened him. He stopped short, and gave me some very good advice which might have done me good, if the deep wounds which his questions had inflicted upon my soul, had not so absorbed my thoughts, as to prevent me from giving attention to what he said. He gave me a short penance and dismissed me.