—Yes, he seems to be quickly offended. It is quite different with the old gentleman who came to see me at the Hospital. There is a good sort of a man!
—The Chaplain, no doubt.
—No, he is a judge. When I knew it, I was quite alarmed at it. A judge, that makes one think of the gendarmes. I was quite in order, fortunately. Besides, he is the president of a great Society, which enters everywhere, and knows what is going on everywhere. Ah, he is a man who frightened me very much the first time I saw him. But he is as kind as can be.
—You are talking, no doubt, of Monsieur Tibulle, President of the Society of St. Vincent de Paul, and Judge of the Court at Vic.
—Monsieur Tibulle, that is he. A benevolent man, but who does good only to people who are religious and honest and right-minded—as he says. As I am an artiste, the Sister was afraid that he would not trouble himself about me, but he saw plainly that I was an honest girl.
—What do you mean by honest girl?
She looked at him attentively:
—You know very well, she said.
—But it is not enough to receive the Communion once, by chance, to be honest.
—Was I not obliged to go to confession before?