—My scapular! he cried. You throw my scapular about in this way. Stay, you are a little wretch, a street-walker, a hussy, a reprobate. You will perish miserably, and I leave you to your fate. Ah, you throw away my scapular!
When he had said this, the good gentleman piously recovered his scapular, buttoned up his overcoat, and retired full of dignity.
XCIII.
FROM THE DARK TO THE FAIR.
"Moderation should preside over pleasure: let us seek in new pleasures a refuge against the satiety of our souls."
KALVOS DE ZANTE (Odes nouvelles).
Zulma had remembered Marcel and had gone to him boldly.
—You have been crying then, my child? said the priest who noticed her red eyes.
The young girl in a few words informed him of her adventure.
—Who would ever have believed that? she said. Such a kind man! Such an obliging lady! The old gentleman said to me at Vic: "I shall not concern myself about you if you do not go to Confession, if you do not receive the Communion, if you do not say your prayers." Whom can one trust?