'You must pray,' said the priest gravely.
'I have prayed; I have prayed for hours with my head buried in my hands, trying to lose myself in every word of adoration, and yet I have not received consolation. I have not felt the presence of God.'
'You must pray and pray again, pray continually, pray until God is moved by your prayers and descends to you.'
She looked at him in anguish.
'Then there is nothing but prayer?' she asked. 'You cannot give me any help?'
'No; none at all,' he replied roughly.
She threw up her trembling hands in a burst of desperation, her breast heaving with anger. But she restrained herself, and she stammered:
'Your heaven is fast closed. You have led me on so far only to crush me against a wall. I was very peaceful, you will remember, when you came. I was living quietly at home here, without a single desire or curiosity. It was you who awoke me with words that stirred and roused my heart. It was you who made me enter upon a fresh youth. Oh! you cannot tell what joys you brought me at first! It was like sweet soft warmth thrilling my whole being. My heart woke up within me. I was filled with mighty hopes. Sometimes, when I reflected that I was forty years old, it all seemed foolish to me, and I smiled, and then I defended myself, for I felt so happy in it all. Now I want the promised happiness. I am growing weary of the desire for it, a desire that burns me and tortures me. I have no time to lose, now that my health has broken down, and I don't want to find myself deceived and duped. There must be something more; tell me that there is something more.'
Abbé Faujas stood quite impassive, letting this flood of words pass without reply.