I waited a quarter of an hour, then they came in, and after kneeling down for a few moments, separated, each going to her own confessor.
I only noticed Donna Ignazia; I saw her going to the confessional, and the confessor turning towards her.
I waited patiently. I thought the confession would never come to an end. “What is he saying?” I repeated to myself as I saw the confessor speaking to her now and again.
I could bear it no longer, and I was on the point of going away when I saw her rise from her knees.
Donna Ignazia, looking like a saint, came to kneel in the church, but out of my sight. I thought she would come forward to receive the Holy Communion at the end of the Mass that was being said, but instead of that she went towards the door, rejoined her cousin and they left the church. I was astonished. My heart was seized with a pang of remorse.
“It’s all over,” I said to myself. “The poor girl has made a sincere and full confession, she has avowed her love, and the priest’s cruel duty has made him refuse her absolution.
“All is lost. What will come of it?
“My peace of mind and hers require me to leave her.
“Wretch that I am, to have lost all for all! I should have made allowance for the peculiar Spanish character.
“I might have enjoyed her by surprise now and again; the difficulty would have added piquancy to the intrigue. I have behaved as if I were once more twenty, and I have lost all.