"What is your name?" sinking wearily back among the pillows.
"Father Jacques, or Brother Jacques, familiarly."
"I mean your worldly name."
"I have almost forgotten it," evasively.
"You have not always been a priest?"
"Since I was eighteen." Silence. "Have you anything on your mind of which you wish to be relieved?"
"Nothing. One can not confess who is no nearer God than I."
"Hush! That is blasphemy."
"I am sorely tried."
"Your trials are but a pebble on the sea's floor. Always remember that, Monsieur; it will make the days less dark. No matter how much you may suffer in the days to come, do not forget that at one time you enjoyed to the full all worldly pleasures; that to you was given the golden key of life as you loved it. Thousands have been denied these, and your sufferings compared to theirs is as a child's plaint compared to a man's agony. God has some definite purpose in crossing our paths. Have patience."