Madame F—(after reflecting for a moment)—Doubts! No. And you?
Madame H—I have had doubts, which has been a real grief to me. Heavens! how I have wept.
Madame F—I should think so, my poor dear. For my own part, my faith is very strong. These doubts must have made you very unhappy.
Madame H—Terribly so. You know, it seems as if everything failed you; there is a vacancy all about you—I have never spoken about it to my husband, of course—Leon is a jewel of a man, but he will not listen to anything of that kind. I can still see him, the day after our marriage; I was smoothing my hair—broad bands were then worn, you know.
Madame F—Yes, yes; they were charming. You will see that we shall go back to them.
Madame H—I should not be surprised; fashion is a wheel that turns. Leon, then, said to me the day after our wedding: "My dear child, I shall not hinder you going to church, but I beg you, for mercy's sake, never to say a word to me about it."
Madame F—Really, Monsieur H. said that to you?
Madame H—Upon my honor. Oh! my husband is all that is most—or, if you prefer it, all that is least—
Madame F—Yes, yes, I understand. That is a grief, you know. Mine is only indifferent. From time to time he says some disagreeable things to me on the question, but I am sure he could be very easily brought back to the right. At the first illness he has, you shall see. When he has only a cold in the head, I notice the change. You have not seen my thimble?
Madame H—Here it is. Do not be too sure of that, dear; men are not to be brought back by going "chk, chk" to them, like little chickens. And then, though I certainly greatly admire the men who observe religious practices, you know me well enough not to doubt that—I think, as I told you, that nothing should be exaggerated. And yourself, pet, should you like to see your husband walking before the banner with a great wax taper in his right hand and a bouquet of flowers in his left?