way all traced out? I must continue my career, and let myself go with the
current of life. Is it then so hard? Why delude myself with phantoms? I
will try to slay the muttering passions, to drive away the fits of ambition
which rise to my brain; and perhaps by dint of subduing all that is
rebellious in me, I shall come to follow piously the line marked out by my
superiors. I will watch patiently amidst my flock, by the corner of my
fire, among the Fathers and my weariness.

"Weariness, that cold demon with the gloomy eye, but I will remain chaste
... and after a life filled with little nothingnesses and little works I
shall pass away in peace in the bosom of the Lord. And there is my life.
Nothing else to choose. No turning aside to the right or to the left. I
must remain a martyr, a martyr to my duty, or an apostate, and infamous
renegade. The triumph or the shame!"

And, as he just uttered these words with bitterness, a soft voice answered
like an echo:

--The shame?

The Curé started and raised his head. His lamp was out, and the dying
embers on the hearth cast only a feeble light into the room.

He distinguished, however, a few steps from him the outline of a woman's
form.

--Who is there? he cried with a sort of terror.

The shadowy outline stood forth more clearly.