"Did he caress you, feeling over your person with his hands--like
this?"
The priest's hands were upon her, and he was taking liberties no
other man had ever done. She tried to arise from the cushion where she
knelt, but strong arms about her prevented. Then the priest stepped
from the confessional and held her in his arms.
"Did he kiss you--like this?" the priest asked. "Did he press you to
his bosom--like this?" She was now in his embrace, struggling in vain
to free herself. "Nay, do not struggle, little bird. If you grant
such favors to enemies of religion, you ought not to refuse them to
representatives of the Lord."
"How can you call yourself a representative of the Lord when you do
these things?" she managed to ask between his kisses.
"Why, Chuleta, did not the Holy Ghost overshadow even the blessed
virgin? And is it not an honor to be embraced by one who stands,
as it were, in the very person of Christ? If you have yielded to the
enemy of the Master, ought you not yield to the true representative
of the Master, and so make atonement to him?"
For answer, she managed to free one hand and slap his face.
"You do not know the manner of my country," said the priest, thrusting
his hand in her bosom. "The instructions for confession, issued by
Saint Liguori, says: 'Kisses, embraces, squeezing of the hands and
similar things not indecent, if done only as marks of affability or
benevolence, according to the custom of the country, in an honest way,
are not sins.' Again: 'To speak, hear, read, write indecent things
with a legitimate reason is no sin. Hence, in order to administer
the sacrament of penance priests can lawfully hear and read all they
wish.' Tell me what this insurgent did to you."
The girl wrenched herself away, and, flying to the door, tried to
open it. The priest stood and smiled.
"The case is hopeless," he said. "You might as well confess."
"Have you no regard for your sacred calling? Have you no regard for
this sacred place?" she asked.
"Nothing is more sacred than love," said he. "Saint Liguori says:
'Concerning the locality, every external carnal action, although
hidden in a sacred place, is a sacrilege. However, cells, a cloister,
the vestry, the roof above the church, its door and vestibule, are
excluded.' You see we are excused."
"Excused! Oh, the wickedness of your heart! I wonder not that
Saguanaldo broke away from the church you represent."
"Nay, child, you misunderstand. If it is given to Peter and his
successors to forgive sins, then whatever they may do can be no
sin, but is, as it were, the act of God himself. You who think your
highest virtue is to love God ought to esteem it an honor that you
have provoked the love of God's representative on earth."
"Fiend!" shrieked the girl. "Help, help!" The words echoed from the
wall, but seemed to penetrate no further.
There was no response, and the priest smiled: "It is foolish to resist
the Lord who loves you," he said. "It is in my power to absolve you
from sin, and even to grant you indulgence to commit that which might
under other circumstances be sin. Don't be foolish, child."
He sought to grasp her in his arms again, but she eluded him. Then
he began in a pleading voice:
"Is it my fault that I love you? Why are you not as kind to me as you
were to that heretic? You are in the confessional, and I can not only
absolve you from sin, but I am also pledged to secrecy. Be kind to me."
"Oh, loathsome thing, I hate you."
"But I love you."
"Love, indeed! You pollute the word, like you do the office you hold
and the building here and all else that should be sacred."
"You know not how I love you. Oh, how I long toward you! 'Item
ordinarie mortalia nabenda sunt escula in ore, seu lingua in ore
introducta vel excepta. [11]' Are you not, indeed, the bride of
Christ?"
"Oh, devil that you are! It is you who have confessed to me, and though
you live to be a century of age, confessing every day such villainy
as this, I could but hate you worse with every morn, and never could
forgive you. If there is hell, where he who burns in lust and anger,
burns in flame, then there's your place. If there is a heaven that
hears the voice of innocence, sending the white angels down to give
it succor, then will the heaven open now, and white-robed creatures
will deliver me. Oh, thou divine Christ, come now and judge between
us. Oh, God of purity, deliver me from this, thine enemy."
"You do not understand. I wish you no wrong. Love is not wrong."
"Love thinketh no evil."
"Love is not expressed in words. It never can be told, but in embraces
and fondlings. Christ, how I love you and long toward you! 'Delectatio
venerea autem seu carnalisest ca, quea oritur ex commotione spiritum
genertioni inservientum et sentitur circa partes genitales.' You can
not comprehend how I am stirred."
"You know not how you fright me. Oh, sir, I plead with you to let
me go. Do not for a moment's passion damn your own soul and ruin me
forever. Show but the manhood that will set me free, and for that
manhood's sake I will say that, though tempted, you had the hardihood
to overcome, and I, for that hardihood that won, will be silent as
to all you have done and said."
"What do you think I am? Does the sportsman set the bird free when
it chirps? I am not so foolish or so weak."
"Then let me ask one thing: Did my father deliver me into your hands?"
"Is the Bishop Lonzello your father?"
"He is."
"Oh, then I understand some things that have been dark. I also have
full license now for anything I can do, and you can find no fault
in the fault that marked both your parents. Come and give me a kiss,
like a good girl, Chuleta!"
"God in heaven, send me protection," gasped the girl in a faint voice.
A moment later the priest grasped her in his arms, and his lips seized
hers in a long, hard, passionate kiss.