Some few years ago there lived an artisan's wife who was notorious for her hatred toward society, toward the rich, and even toward God. She hated them with an implacable, a woman's hate. Her malignity was specially directed against the rolls of silk and bundles of stuff—so she designated the females of the upper classes—and she was known to be in the habit of saying to her children:—"I have brought you up for the democracy … to humble the rich and to reestablish equality; and if you do not become democrats, I will disown you."
A priest commissioned a young marchioness, as virtuous as she was accomplished, to attend to this poor creature. She began by listening with kindness to all her grievances and insults, and even allowed herself to be called a coquine. Nevertheless, by dint of patience, she soon succeeded in calming her embittered soul.
One day, the marchioness, who was about to absent herself for several weeks, went to bid farewell to her protégée. She took her affectionately by the hand, and then, moved thereto spontaneously by her kind heart, and doubtless by the grace of God also, cordially kissed her, saying, as she left:—"I shall soon see you again."
The poor woman was stunned with amazement, and moved even to tears, and forthwith went to the priest; but instead of first saluting him, she began by exclaiming:—"Is it possible? You will not believe me; nevertheless it is true. She kissed me! …. Yes, the lady marchioness kissed a miserable creature like me. … Ah! I have frequently declared that there was no good God; now I say there is, because that lady is one of His angels. I have said, too, that I would never confess; now you may confess me as often as you please." Since that time she has been an exemplary Christian.
The day after, the priest wrote as follows to the excellent lady whom God had made the instrument of this good work:—"You may, indeed, consider yourself happy. … We priests are at great pains to preach, and do not always succeed in converting our hearers; but you succeed with an embrace!"
Oh, if women only knew! Oh, if they would, what good they might do, what evil they might prevent! ….
Moreover, the existence of real virtue in a woman of the world depends upon her coming out of self, and devoting herself assiduously to works of charity. … For, you may rest assured of this, that without self-denial on her part you will never be able to keep her in the right way. … Take the case of a light, worldly, and gay woman—and there are many such; you will never acquire any influence over her except through the medium of charity. She will make promises, but she will take care not to keep them: you can never rely on her being faithful to them. It will be vain for you to address her in the most conclusive speeches, to ply her with refined and smart essays on good breeding—in vain that you assail her foibles and waywardness with irony and sarcasm—in vain that you hold up before her the terrors of death, hell, and eternity. She will find loopholes by which to elude all that, and to deceive herself. It will not prevent her in the least from being vain and excessively addicted to pleasure, from baring her shoulders immoderately, and from going a-begging for idolatrous incense in fashionable circles. Before all, she must be made to feel, to love, to be loved, to devote herself. Charity filling her soul will set fire to the house, and then every thing else will be thrown out of the window.