No, I am not a believer: religion has not sufficed me. It is
said that some women find contentment in it, a firm protection even
against all transgressions. But I have ever felt cold in church, weary
unto death. Oh! I know very well that it is wrong to feign piety, to
mingle religion with my heart affairs. But what would you? I am forced to
it. If you saw me in Paris behind La Trinite it was because that church
is the only place to which I am allowed to go alone; and if you find me
here at Lourdes it is because, in the whole long year, I have but these
three days of happiness and freedom."
Again she began to tremble. Hot tears were coursing down her cheeks. A
vision of it all arose in Pierre's mind, and, distracted by the thought
of the ardent earthly love which possessed this unhappy creature, he
again murmured: "Poor woman!"
"And, Monsieur l'Abbe," she continued, "think of the hell to which I am
about to return! For weeks and months I live my life of martyrdom without
complaint. Another year, another year must go by without a day, an hour
of happiness! Ah! I am indeed very unhappy, Monsieur l'Abbe, yet do you
not think all the same that I am a good woman?"
He had been deeply moved by her sincere display of mingled grief and
passion. He felt in her the breath of universal desire--a sovereign
flame.
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