They descended and seated themselves upon the end of a white marble step, which extended the entire width of the nave, at the entrance of the choir. "My son," began the priest timidly, "yesterday evening--" "That is precisely what I want to talk to you about," said Gilbert. "Ah! you are a good, generous child. You saw my embarrassment, and you wished,--I confess it, a slight drowsiness,--flesh is weak,-- ah, it is good in you. Favors do not turn your head. Speak, speak, I am all attention." "It is understood that you will keep the secret, father, for you know--" "I understand! we should be lost if it were known that we talked of certain things together. Oh! you need not be afraid. If Kostia Petrovitch alludes to this matter, I shall appear to know nothing, and I shall accuse myself of having violated the precept of the great Solomon, who said, 'When thou sittest down to eat with a prince, consider attentively what is done before thee.' "Speak with confidence, my child, and rest assured that this mouth has an old tongue in it which never says what it does not want to." When Gilbert had finished his recital, Father Alexis burst forth in exclamations accompanied by many signs of the cross. "Oh! unhappy child!" cried he; "what folly is thine! He has then sworn his own destruction? To wish to die in mortal sin! A spirit of darkness must have taken possession of him. Then he invokes St. George no longer every morning and evening? He prays no more,--he no longer carries on his heart the holy amulet I gave him. Ah! why did I fall asleep yesterday evening? What beautiful things I would have said to him! I would have commenced by representing to him--" "I do not doubt your eloquence; but it is not remonstrance, nor good counsel that this child wants: a little happiness would answer the purpose far better." "Happiness! Ah, yes! his life is a little sad. There are certain maxims of education--" "It is not a question of maxims of education, but of a father who betrays an open hatred to his son." "Holy Virgin!" exclaimed the priest with a gesture of terror, "you must not say such things, my child. These are words which the good God does not like to hear. Never repeat them, it would be neither prudent nor charitable." Gilbert persisted; announcing the conjectures which he had formed as certainties, and even exaggerating his suspicions in the hope that the priest, in correcting him, would furnish the explanations which he desired. The success of this little artifice surpassed his expectation. "I know for a certainty," said he, "that M. Leminof loved his wife,--that she was unfaithful to him--that he finished by suspecting her, and that he revenged himself--"