This young wife really interested me; she had in the midst of one cheek, toward the corner of the mouth, a small hollow, a kind of little dimple, charming in the profane sense of the word, and giving a special expression to her face. Her tiny white teeth glittered like pearls when she opened her mouth to relate her pious inquietudes; she shed around, besides, a perfume almost as sweet as that of our altars, although of a different kind, and I breathed this perfume with an uneasiness full of scruples, which for all that inclined me to indulgence. I was so close to her that none of the details of her face escaped me; I could distinguish, almost in spite of myself, even a little quiver of her left eyebrow, tickled every now and again by a stray tress of her fair hair. “Your situation,” I said, “is a delicate one; on one hand, your domestic happiness, and on the other your duty as a Christian.” She gave a sigh from her very heart. “Well, my dear child, my age warrants my speaking to you like that, does it not?” “Oh, yes, father.” “Well, my dear child”--I fancy I noticed at that moment that she had at the outer corner of her eyes a kind of dark mark something like an arrow-head--“try, my dear child, to convince your husband, who in his heart--” In addition, her lashes, very long and somewhat curled, were underlined, I might almost say, by a dark streak expanding and shading off delicately toward the middle of the eye. This physical peculiarity did not seem to me natural, but an effect of premeditated coquetry. Strange fact, the verification of such weakness in this candid heart only increased my compassion. I continued in a gentle tone: “Strive to bring your husband to God. Abstinence is not only a religious observance, it is also a salutary custom. ‘Non solum lex Dei, sed etiam’. Have you done everything to bring back your husband?” “Yes, father, everything.” “Be precise, my child; I must know all.” “Well, father, I have tried sweetness and tenderness.” I thought to myself that this husband must be a wretch. “I have implored him for the sake of our child,” continued the little angel, “not to risk his salvation and my own. Once or twice I even told him that the spinach was dressed with gravy when it was not. Was I wrong, father?” “There are pious falsehoods which the Church excuses, for in such cases it only takes into consideration the intention and the greater glory of God. I can not, therefore, say that you have done wrong. You have not, have you, been guilty toward your husband of any of those excusable acts of violence which may escape a Christian soul when it is struggling against error? For it really is not natural that an honest man should refuse to follow the prescription of the Church. Make a few concessions at first.” “I have, father, and perhaps too many,” she said, contritely. “What do you mean?”