I held my tongue. It was cowardly, I confess, but it was not
“I understand—you allowed matters to take their course, that was all.”
“Yes, sir,” answered Caderousse; “and remorse preys on me night and day. I often ask pardon of God, I swear to you, because this action, the only one with which I have seriously to reproach myself in all my life, is no doubt the cause of my abject condition. I am expiating a moment of selfishness, and so I always say to La Carconte, when she complains, ‘Hold your tongue, woman; it is the will of God.’ ” And Caderousse bowed his head with every sign of real repentance.
“Well, sir,” said the abbé, “you have spoken unreservedly; and thus to accuse yourself is to deserve pardon.”
“Unfortunately, Edmond is