“Yes, very often.”
“They are sacred, I know, even in your church.”
“Yes,” he said, without emphasis.
His lack of emphasis decided her. Till this moment she had been undecided about a certain thing, although she herself perhaps was not fully aware of her hesitation.
“I want to do a thing that I have never yet done,” she said. “I want to be treacherous to a friend, to give a friend away. Will you promise to keep my treachery secret forever? Will you promise to treat what I am going to tell you about her as if I told it to you in the confessional?”
“If you tell it to me I will. But why must you tell it to me? I don’t like treachery. It’s an ugly thing.”
“I can’t help that. I really came here just for that—to be treacherous.”
She looked into the fire and sighed.
“I’ve covered a great sin with my garment,” she murmured slowly, “and I repent me!”
Then, with a look of resolve, she turned to her white-haired companion.