--There are several of them.

--Several beginnings?

--Yes; I have had three masters, you know.

--Well, with the last one, with Monsieur Fortin, that worthy man whom I knew slightly.

--He was no better than the rest, Jesus! no.

--The Abbe Fortin?

--Lord G.o.d, yes, the Abbe Fortin!

--What has he done then?

--My G.o.d ... you know well, that which one does when one ... is a man ...

and has a warm temperament.

--To you, Veronica, to you?

--Alas, sweet Jesus. Ah, Monsieur le Cure, I am so good-natured, I don't know how to resist. And then, you know, it is so hard for a poor servant to resist her master, particularly when he is a priest, who holds all your confidence, and possesses all your secrets, and with whom you live in a certain kind of intimacy; and besides a priest is cautious, and one may be quite sure that nothing of what goes on inside the parsonage, will get out through the parsonage door.

--a.s.suredly; he will not go and noise his faults abroad.

--And so with us, the priests' servants, who could be more cautious than we are? We have as much in it as our masters, have we not? and a sin concealed is a sin half pardoned.

--Yes, Veronica, it was said long ago: "The scandal of the world is what causes the offence. And 'tis not sinning to sin in silence."

--Those are words of wisdom; who is it who said so?

--A very clever man, called Monsieur Tartuffe.

--I see that. Be must have been a priest, at least?

--He was not an ecclesiastic, but he was somewhat of a churchman.

--That is just as I thought. Certainly we must hide our faults. Who would believe in us without that? I say _us_, for I am also somewhat a church-_woman_.

--Undoubtedly.

--I have spent my life among ecclesiastics. My father was beadle at St.

Eprive's and my mother the Cure's housekeeper.

--That is your t.i.tle.

--Is it not? Then I have the honour to be your maid-servant, and I am the head of the a.s.sociation of the Holy Virgin.

--No one could contest your claims, Veronica; add to that you are a worthy and cautious person, and let us return to Monsieur Fortin. Ah, I cannot contain my astonishment. Monsieur Fortin!... And how did he go to work to ... seduce you? He must have used much deceit.

--All the angels of heavens are witnesses to it, sir, and you shall judge.

L.

MAMMOSA VIRGO!

"The monk could not refrain from admiring the freshness and plumpness of this woman. For a long time he made his eyes speak, and he managed it so well that in the end he inspired the lady with the same desire with which he was burning."

BOCCACIO (_La Decameron_).

Veronica took several sips of the brandy which remained at the bottom of the cup, collected her thoughts for a moment, and casting her eyes down with a modest air, she proceeded:

--The good Monsieur Fortin, as perhaps you know, used to drink a little of an evening.

--Oh, he used to drink!

--Yes, not every day, but every now and then; two or three times a week: but you know ... quite nicely, properly, without making any noise; he was gayer than usual, that was all. But when he reached that point, though he was ordinarily as timid as a lay-brother, he became as bold as a gendarme, and he was very ... how shall I say?... very enterprising. I may say that between ourselves, Monsieur le Cure, you understand that strangers never knew anything about it. If by chance anyone came and asked for him at these times, I used to say that he had gone out, or that he was ill. One day, I was finely put out. Christopher Gilquin's daughter came to call him to her mother who was at the point of death. He took it into his head to try and kiss her. The little one, who was hardly fifteen, did not know what it meant. I made her understand that it was to console her, and through pure affection for her and for her mamma. It pa.s.sed muster. But when she had gone I gave it to him finely, and I made him go to bed ... and sharply too.

--And he obeyed you?

--I should think so, and without a word. He saw very well he was wrong. One evening then ... I had been in his service hardly six months--I must tell you first that he had looked at me very queerly for some time; I let him do so and said to myself: "Here is another of them who will do like the rest."

And I waited for it to happen. I was better-looking then than I am now: I was ten years younger, Monsieur le Cure.

--Ten years younger! but you were thirty then. How could you be a Cure's servant at that age? Our rules are opposed to it.

--I pa.s.sed as his relation. And that was tolerated. Besides, when Monseigneur made his visitation, I did not show myself ... for form's sake, for Monseigneur knew very well that I was there. I met him once on the stairs; he took hold of my chin, looked at me very hard, and said in a sly way: "Here is this little _spiritual sister_ then; faith, she is a pretty little rogue." I was so bashful. I asked Monsieur Fortin what a _spiritual sister_ was, and he told me that they used formerly to call women so who lived with priests. They say that all had two or three _spiritual sisters_.

What indecency! I should not have allowed that.

--Spiritual sister is not exactly the expression, said Marcel, it is _adoptive sister_, because they were adopted.[1] Alas, Veronica, the clergy were slightly dissolute in former times: it is no longer so in our days, in which so many holy ecclesiastics give an example of the rarest virtues.

--Oh, three wives, Monsieur le Cure! three wives! sweet Jesus! they must have torn out each other's eyes.

--No, Veronica. They agreed very well among themselves. They had different ideas at that time to what we have now.

--One evening then Monsieur Fortin had drunk at table a little more than usual. I was going to bring the dessert and I leaned over to take up a dish which was before him. As the dish was heavy and rather far from my hand, I supported myself on the back of his chair, and involuntarily I rubbed against his body with my stomach. "Oh, oh," he said, "if that happens again I shall pinch that big breast."

--What! Monsieur Fortin used that expression?

--Yes, sir, and many others besides. I blush when I think of it.... Then I looked at him quite astounded. He began to laugh. I went to look for the cheese, and I pa.s.sed again beside him on purpose, and supported myself on his chair again to place it on the table. "Ah," he cried, "she is beginning again. _O, mammosa virgo_!"--he repeated it so many times to me that I remember it--"so much the worse, I keep my promises." And he pinched me.

--Where?

--Where he had said. He made no error. I blushed for shame and drew back as quickly as possible: "How can he," I said to myself, "use Latin words to deceive poor women?" Then he cried: "Are you ticklish?"--Yes, sir. "Ah, you are ticklish. The big Veronica is ticklish! Who would have believed it?"

And he laughed, but I saw clearly that his laugh was put on, and that something else preoccupied him. And from that moment, each time that I pa.s.sed near him and stooped down to clear away, he tried to pinch me where he could: "And there," he said, "are you ticklish? are you ticklish there?"

I was so stupefied that I could not get over it. "It is a little too much, Holy Mother of G.o.d," I said to myself, "a man like him! to pinch me in this way! who would believe it! One would not credit it, if one saw it! Ah, I will see how far he will go, and to-morrow I will give him an account." At last, when I saw that he would not stop it, and that he was going too far, I said to him severely: Monsieur le Cure, if you continue to tease me in this way, you shall see something.