"My dear child, the only thing you can do is to make your husband believe you are pregnant; then he will cease his precautions, and you will become so in reality."
Jeanne blushed to the roots of her hair, but, determined to be ready for every emergency, she argued:
"But—but suppose he should not believe me?"
The curé knew too well the ins and outs of human nature not to have an answer for that.
"Tell everybody you are enceinte. When he sees that everyone else believes it, he will soon believe it himself. You will be doing no wrong," he added, to quiet his conscience for advising this deception; "the Church does not permit any connection between man and woman, except for the purpose of procreation."
Jeanne followed the priest's artful device, and, a fortnight later, told Julien she thought she was enceinte. He started up.
"It isn't possible! You can't be!"
She gave him her reasons for thinking so.
"Bah!" he answered. "You wait a little while."
Every morning he asked, "Well?" but she always replied: "No, not yet; I am very much mistaken if I am not enceinte."