Madame F—What a child you are!
Madame H—That has nothing to do with religious feelings, my dear; I do not attack any dogma. Ah! if I were to say, for instance—come now, if I were to say, what now?
Madame F—In point of fact, what really is dogma?
Madame H—Well, it is what can not be attacked. Thus, for instance, a thing that is evident, you understand me, is unassailable, . . . or else it should be assailed, . . in short, it can not be attacked. That is why it is monstrous to allow the Jewish religion and the Protestant religion in France, because these religions can be assailed, for they have no dogma. I give you this briefly, but in your prayer-book you will find the list of dogmas. I am a rod of iron as regards dogmas. My husband, who, as I said, has succeeded in inspiring me with doubts on many matters—without imagining it, for he has never required anything of me; I must do him that justice—but who, at any rate, has succeeded in making me neglect many things belonging to religion, such as fasting, vespers, sermons, . . . confession.
Madame F—Confession! Oh! my dear, I should never have believed that.
Madame H—It is in confidence, dear pet, that I tell you this. You will swear never to speak of it?
Madame F—Confession! Oh! yes, I swear it. Come here, and let me kiss you.
Madame H—You pity me, do you not?
Madame F—I can not pity you too much, for I am absolutely in the same position.
Madame H—You, too! Good heavens! how I love you. What can one do, eh? Must one not introduce some plan of conciliation into the household, sacrifice one's belief a little to that of one's husband?