Part 29 (1/2)

He sat down on a bench, but fearing a shower, for it looked threatening, he retired to his cell.

He felt no desire to read; he was eager for, while yet he dreaded, the arrival of nine o'clock, to have done with, to get rid of the weight upon his soul, and he prayed mechanically, without knowing what he mumbled, always thinking on this confession, full of alarm and hara.s.sed with fears.

He went down a little before the time, and when he entered the auditorium his heart failed him.

In spite of himself, his eyes were fixed upon the prie-Dieu, where he had suffered so cruelly.

To think that he had to put himself on that hurdle again, to stretch himself on that rack of torture! He tried to collect himself, to compose himself--and he drew himself up quickly; he heard the footsteps of the monk. The door opened, and, for the first time, Durtal dared to look the prior in the face; it seemed to be hardly the same man, nor the face, he had noticed from a distance; the profile was so haughty, and the full face so sweet; the eye dulled the proud energy of the features, an eye familiar and deep, when at the same time there was a quiet joy and a sad pity.

”Come,” he said, ”do not be disturbed, you are about to speak to our Saviour alone, who knows all your faults.” And he knelt down and prayed for some time and came, as on the day before, to sit by the prie-Dieu; he bent towards Durtal and listened.

Somewhat rea.s.sured, the penitent began without too great anguish. He accused himself of faults common to all men, want of charity towards his neighbour, evil speaking, hate, rash judgment, abuse, lies, vanity, anger, etc.

The monk interrupted him for a moment.

”You said, just now, I think, that in your youth you contracted debts; have you paid them?”

And on an affirmative sign from Durtal, he said, ”Good,” and went on,

”Have you belonged to any secret society? have you fought a duel?--I am obliged to ask these questions for they are reserved cases.”

”No?--Good”--and he was silent.

”Before G.o.d, I accuse myself of everything,” resumed Durtal; ”as I confessed to you, yesterday, since my first communion I have given up everything; prayers, ma.s.s, everything; I have denied G.o.d, I have blasphemed, I had entirely lost faith.”

And Durtal stopped.

He was reaching the sins of the flesh. His voice fell.

”Here I do not know how to explain myself,” he said, keeping back his tears.

”Let us see,” the monk said gently; ”you told me yesterday that you had committed all those acts which are comprised in the sin of l.u.s.t.”

”Yes, father;” and trembling, he added, ”Must I go into the details?”

”No, it is useless. I will confine myself to asking you, for it alters the nature of the sin, whether in your case there have been any private sins, or any sins committed between persons of the same s.e.x?”

”Not since I left school.”

”Have you committed adultery?”

”Yes.”

”Am I to understand that in your relations with women, you have committed every possible excess?”

Durtal made an affirmative sign.

”That is sufficient.”

And the monk was silent.