“Again, again! Begin with yourself. You are here at the tribunal of penitence; well, promise God to struggle energetically against these little carnal temptations, which are not in themselves serious sins--oh! no, I know it--but, after all, these constant solicitations prove a persistent attachment--displeasing to Him--to the fugitive and deceitful delights of this world. Hum, hum! and has this gluttony shown itself by more blameworthy actions than usual--is it simply the same as last month?” “The same as last month, father.” “Yes, yes, pastry between meals,” I sighed gravely. “Yes, father, and almost always a glass of Capri or of Syracuse after it.” “Or of Syracuse after it. Well, let that pass, let that pass.” I fancied that the mention of this pastry and those choice wines was becoming a source of straying thoughts on my part, for which I mentally asked forgiveness of heaven. “What else do you recall?” I asked, passing my hand over my face. “Nothing else, father; I do not recollect anything else.” “Well let a sincere repentance spring up in your heart for the sins you have just admitted, and for those which you may have forgotten; commune with yourself, humble yourself in the presence of the great act you have just accomplished. I will give you absolution. Go in peace.” The Countess rose, smiled at me with discreet courtesy, and, resuming her ordinary voice, said in a low tone, “Till Saturday evening, then?” I bowed as a sign of assent, but felt rather embarrassed on account of my sacred character. CHAPTER VII. AN EMBASSY BALL “Don’t say that it is not pretty,” added my aunt, brushing the firedog with the tip of her tiny boot. “It lends an especial charm to the look, I must acknowledge. A cloud of powder is most becoming, a touch of rouge has a charming effect, and even that blue shadow that they spread, I don’t know how, under the eye. What coquettes some women are! Did you notice Anna’s eyes at Madame de Sieurac’s last Thursday? Is it allowable? Frankly, can you understand how any one can dare?” “Well, aunt, I did not object to those eyes, and between ourselves they had a softness.” “I do not deny that, they had a softness.” “And at the same time such a strange brilliancy beneath that half shadow, an expression of such delicious languor.” “Yes, certainly, but, after all, it is making an exhibition of one’s self. But for that--it is very pretty sometimes--I have seen in the Bois charming creatures under their red, their black, and their blue, for they put on blue too, God forgive me!” “Yes, aunt, Polish blue; it is put on with a stump; it is for the veins.” With interest: “They imitate veins! It is shocking, upon my word. But you seem to know all about it?” “Oh, I have played so often in private theatricals; I have even quite a collection of little pots of color, hare’s-feet stumps, pencils, et cetera.” “Ah! you have, you rascal! Are you going to the fancy ball at the Embassy to-morrow?”