instinct was everything. She would have made an excellent mother, but
failing marriage a religious vocation would have suited her best,
as the regular and austere mode of life would have calmed her
temperament. But her father, doubtless, could not afford to provide
her with a dowry, and his social condition forbade the idea of making
her a lay-sister. Poor girl, driven into the wrong path, she was fated
to meet her doom there. She was naturally upright and good, with a
full knowledge of her duties, and her only fault was that she had
blood in her veins. None of the young men in the village would have
dreamt of taking a liberty with her, so much was her father respected.
The feeling of her superiority prevented her from forming any
acquaintance with the young peasants, and they never thought of paying
their addresses to her. The poor girl lived, therefore, in a state of
absolute solitude, for the only other inhabitant of the house was a
lad of twelve or thirteen, a nephew, whom Kermelle had taken under his
care and to whom the priest, a good man if ever there was one, taught
what little Latin he knew himself.

"The Church was the only source of pleasure left for her. She was of a
pious disposition, though not endowed with sufficient intelligence to
understand anything of the mysteries of our religion. The priest, very
zealous in the performance of his duties, felt no little respect for
the flax-crusher, and spent whatever leisure time he had at his
house. He acted as tutor to the nephew, treating the daughter with the
reserve which the clergy of Brittany make a point of showing in their
intercourse with the opposite sex. He wished her good day and inquired
after her health, but he never talked to her except on commonplace
subjects. The unfortunate girl fell violently in love with him. He was
the only person of her own station, so to speak, whom she ever saw,
and moreover, he was a young man of very taking appearance; combining