Christophe nodded Ms head,
'And what did she say?5
That I ought to have asked her . . . That I ought
to have asked her to give me the grease/
Jouse grunted. 'Well then, I say just the same thing,5
And he turned once again to the plank he was planing.
That evening Christophe went to confession, and
this was indeed a tremendous ordeal, for he dared
not hope that Monsieur le Cure would be as lenient
to him as his parents: 'Give me your blessing, Father,5
he began, as he knelt on the hard little wooden shelf,
*I have sinned. . . .5
The Cure blessed him and waited.
Then Christophe plunged desperately into his
recital, sparing himself and the Cure no detail, not
excepting his loss of faith in Saint Loup and his angry
thoughts of that warrior-bishop. And while he
accused himself of his sins in an agitated and some-
what hoarse whisper, he unconsciously touched a long
disused chord in the heart of his tired and south-
drugged listener. For the Cure had once been quite
fond of dogs, having had a dog of his own in his boy-
hood. Bobby, he had called it, because at that time
he had been not a little proud of his English, and now
Bobby had suddenly come into his mind — a plucky,
upstanding, curly retriever.
Said Christophe: 'I think I had better say also,
that I promised Saint Loup to ask for a penance which
would be very hard. I much love bouillabaisse, per-
haps you would rather I did not eat it —though I
do not think I love it quite so much now;5 his voice
trembled a little; CI do not think that I love it so much
since the death.of Mirfeio. But I made that promise
to Saint Loup when I told him that I would not go
to confession just then in case ... in case . . .*
Christophe hesitated, 'in case you should tell me to
give back the
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