"Very good. I am the spiritual director of several ladies of quality in the island of Hispaniola: one among them, young and beautiful, who only arrived in the West Indies a short time ago with her husband, appears to be devoured by an incurable grief."
"Indeed! And what can I do to prevent it, father?"
"I know not: still, this is what took place between this lady and myself. The lady, who, as I told you, is young and fair, and whose charity and goodness are inexhaustible, spends the greater part of her days in her oratory, kneeling before a picture representing our Lady of Mercy, imploring her with tears and sobs. Interested, in spite of myself, by this so true and so profound grief, I have on several occasions employed the right which my sacred office gives me, to try and penetrate into this ulcerated heart, and obtain from my penitent a confession, which would permit me to give her some consolation."
"And I presume that you have not succeeded, father?"
"Alas! No, I have not."
"Allow me to repeat to you, that, up to the present I do not see in this very sad story, which is to some extent, however, that of most women, anything very interesting to me."
"Wait, brother, I am coming to that."
"In that case, proceed."
"One day, when this lady appeared to me to be more sad than usual, and I redoubled my efforts to induce her to open her heart to me—doubtless overcome by my solicitations, she said these words to me, which I repeat to you exactly:—'My father, I am an unhappy, cowardly, and infamous creature, and a terrible malediction weighs on me. Only one man has the right to know the secret which I try, in vain, to stifle in my heart. Upon this man depends my salvation. He can condemn or acquit me: but whatever be the sentence he may pronounce, I will bow without a murmur beneath his will, too happy to expiate at this price the crime of which I have been guilty.'"
While the monk was pronouncing these words, the usually pale face of the adventurer had turned livid, a convulsive trembling agitated his limbs, and, in spite of his efforts to appear calm, he was constrained to lean against one of the tent pickets, lest he should fall on the ground.