What do you know of a woman's soul-well, perhaps, you know
what they have told you; but madame's soul--"
"Madame has never been to confession to me," interjected M. Savry
indignantly. Jean Jacques chuckled. He had his New Cure now for sure.
"Confession is for those who have sinned. Is it that you say one must go
to confession, and in order to go to confession it is needful to sin?"
M. Savry shivered with pious indignation. He had a sudden desire to rend
this philosophic Catholic--to put him under the thumb-screw for the glory
of the Lord, and to justify the Church; but the little Catholic
miller-magnate gave freely to St. Saviour's; he was popular; he had a
position; he was good to the poor; and every Christmas-time he sent a
half-dozen bags of flour to the presbytery!
All Pere Savry ventured to say in reply was: "Upon your head be it, M.
Jean Jacques. I have done my duty. I shall hope to see madame at mass
next Sunday."
Jean Jacques had chuckled over that episode, for he had conquered; he had
shown M. Savry that he was master in his own household and outside it.
That much his philosophy had done for him. No other man in the parish
would have dared to speak to the Cure like that. He had never scolded
Carmen when she had not gone to church. Besides, there was Carmen's
little daughter always at his side at mass; and Carmen always insisted on
Zoe going with him, and even seemed anxious for them to be off at the
first sound of the bells of St.
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