She had spoken with volubility, and the priest listened to her in silence. Hanging on her look, he drank in her words. He heard them without comprehending exactly their meaning. It was sweet music which charmed him, but he only thought of one thing. She had said: "Your looks avoided mine."
When she had finished speaking, he was surprised to hear her no longer and listened afresh.
—I have spoken with open heart to my confessor, said Suzanne timidly, astonished at this silence.
—To the confessor! no, no, dear child; to the friend, to the friend, is it not? Do you want him? Will you trust yourself to me? Will you let yourself be guided by me? I will bring you by a way from which I will remove all the thorns.
—But my father?
This was like the blow from a club to Marcel.
—Your father! Ah, yes! your father! Well, but what are we going to do?
—I have just asked you.
—It is written in the Gospel: "No one can serve two masters at the same time." You have a master who is God. Your father places himself between God and your duty. You must choose.
Suzanne did not reply.