—Well, with the last one, with Monsieur Fortin, that worthy man whom I knew slightly.
—He was no better than the rest, Jesus! no.
—The Abbé Fortin?
—Lord God, yes, the Abbé Fortin!
—What has he done then?
—My God … you know well, that which one does when one … is a man … and has a warm temperament.
—To you, Veronica, to you?
—Alas, sweet Jesus. Ah, Monsieur le Curé, I am so good-natured, I don't know how to resist. And then, you know, it is so hard for a poor servant to resist her master, particularly when he is a priest, who holds all your confidence, and possesses all your secrets, and with whom you live in a certain kind of intimacy; and besides a priest is cautious, and one may be quite sure that nothing of what goes on inside the parsonage, will get out through the parsonage door.
—Assuredly; he will not go and noise his faults abroad.
—And so with us, the priests' servants, who could be more cautious than we are? We have as much in it as our masters, have we not? and a sin concealed is a sin half pardoned.