—Oh, Monsieur le Curé, you are wrong to call me wicked, I am not so.
—You are, at the very least, most indiscreet.
—Oh, sir, it is not my fault; it is quite involuntarily that I have been a witness of what passed.
—Eh! what has passed then?
—Sir, don't question me, she said in a pitying tone, I have heard and seen.
—You have seen! cried the priest in a stifled voice. What have you seen then, wretched woman?
And mad with anger, with blazing eyes and clenched fists, he sprang upon the servant, who was afraid and retreated to the door.
—Please, Monsieur le Curé, she implored, don't hurt me.
These words recalled the priest to himself.
—No, he said as he sat down again, no, Veronica, I shall not hurt you. I flew into a passion, I was wrong; pardon me. Reassure yourself; see, I am calm; come closer and let us talk. Come closer. Sit here, in front of me.