"Father, I have not been able to resist certain temptations to gluttony."
"Again, again! Begin with yourself. You are here at the tribunal of penitence; well, promise God to struggle energetically against these little carnal temptations, which are not in themselves serious sins—oh! no, I know it—but, after all, these constant solicitations prove a persistent attachment—displeasing to Him—to the fugitive and deceitful delights of this world. Hum, hum! and has this gluttony shown itself by more blameworthy actions than usual—is it simply the same as last month?"
"The same as last month, father."
"Yes, yes, pastry between meals," I sighed gravely.
"Yes, father, and almost always a glass of Capri or of Syracuse after it."
"Or of Syracuse after it. Well, let that pass, let that pass."
I fancied that the mention of this pastry and those choice wines was becoming a source of straying thoughts on my part, for which I mentally asked forgiveness of heaven.
"What else do you recall?" I asked, passing my hand over my face.
"Nothing else, father; I do not recollect anything else."
"Well let a sincere repentance spring up in your heart for the sins you have just admitted, and for those which you may have forgotten; commune with yourself, humble yourself in the presence of the great act you have just accomplished. I will give you absolution. Go in peace."