Hardly had my penitent risen to withdraw when I abruptly closed my little shutter and took a long pinch of snuff--snuff-takers know how much a pinch soothes the mind--then having thanked God rapidly, I drew from the pocket of my cassock my good old watch, and found that it was earlier than I thought. The darkness of the chapel had deceived me, and my stomach had shared my error. I was hungry. I banished these carnal preoccupations from my mind, and after shaking my hands, on which some grains of snuff had fallen, I slackened one of my braces that was pressing a little on one shoulder, and opened my wicket. “Well, Madame, people should be more careful,” said the penitent on my left, addressing a lady of whom I could only see a bonnet-ribbon; “it is excusable.” My penitent’s voice, which was very irritated, though restrained by respect for the locality, softened as if by magic at the creaking of my wicket. She knelt down, piously folded her two ungloved hands, plump, perfumed, rosy, laden with rings--but let that pass. I seemed to recognize the hands of the Countess de B., a chosen soul, whom I had the honor to visit frequently, especially on Saturday, when there is always a place laid for me at her table. She raised her little lace veil and I saw that I was not mistaken. It was the Countess. She smiled at me as at a person with whom she was acquainted, but with perfect propriety; she seemed to be saying, “Good-day, my dear Abbe, I do not ask how your rheumatism is, because at this moment you are invested with a sacred character, but I am interested in it all the same.” This little smile was irreproachable. I replied by a similar smile, and I murmured in a very low tone, giving her, too, to understand by the expression of my face that I was making a unique concession in her favor, “Are you quite well, dear Madame?” “Thanks, father, I am quite well.” Her voice had resumed an angelic tone. “But I have just been in a passion.” “And why? Perhaps you have taken for a passion what was really only a passing moment of temper?” It does not do to alarm penitents. “Ah! not at all, it was really a passion, father. My dress had just been torn from top to bottom; and really it is strange that one should be exposed to such mishaps on approaching the tribunal of----” “Collect yourself, my dear Madame, collect yourself,” and assuming a serious look I bestowed my benediction upon her.