II

THE GREEN CONFESSIONAL




For a long time the soldier remained silent. His head was bowed.
His shoulders drooped. His hands trembled between his knees. He
was wrestling with himself.

"No," he cried, at last, "I cannot, I dare not tell you. Unless,
perhaps"--his voice faltered--"you could receive it under the seal
of confession? But no. How could you do that? Here in the green
woods? In the open air, beside a spring? Here is no confessional."

"Why not?" asked Father Courcy. "It is a good place, a holy place.
Heaven is over our heads and very near. I will receive your confession
here."

The soldier knelt among the flowers. The priest pronounced the
sacred words. The soldier began his confession:

"I, Pierre Duval, a great sinner, confess my fault, my most grievous
fault, and pray for pardon." He stopped for a moment and then
continued, "But first I must tell you, Father, just who I am and
where I come from and what brings me here."