“Superior of the Absolutionists, unless I am mistaken.”
“You are not mistaken, madame.”
“What can I do for your work, Monsieur l’Abbé?”
“You can do much, madame. But, first of all,”—here the Abbé lowered his voice—“I have information of special importance to communicate to you, and it might be better, if you have no objection, if we were alone.”
“As you please, Monsieur l’Abbé.”
The two girls had been well brought up. On a look from Madame Baradier, they arose, bowed, and left the room.
“You may now speak freely, Monsieur l’Abbé.”
“I am well aware, madame, how you are animated by a sincere Christian fervour,” continued the priest, “and it is on the certainty that all apostolic work must receive your cordial assistance that my mission is based. As you know, we are devoted heart and soul to the service of the poor. Poverty and misery, nay, even vice itself, have an exclusive claim on our interest and attention. To us a criminal is a brother we try to restore to the path of virtue, just as we use our best efforts to save a sick man. In this way a vast amount of misfortune and crime is revealed to us. We are the confidents of the most painful of physical vices, the most lamentable of moral back-slidings. We offer help to all, without exception, and often serve as intermediaries between those who have the power to punish and those who wish to be spared. We are never deaf to repentance, and try to turn it to the advantage of our holy religion.”
He spoke with grave earnestness, and an insinuating voice, turning on one side the obstacles in the way, preparing his ground, and gradually attempting to win over to his side the intelligence of the wife, so as to make of her an ally against the husband. Madame Baradier, astonished at this lengthy introduction, was beginning to wonder what was the meaning of it all, so she asked—
“Is it pecuniary help you want, Monsieur l’Abbé? If so, you will find us very sympathetically disposed towards your work.”