CHAPTER 13"Oh! Monsieur," I responded, weeping, "you would deprive anunfortunate of her fondest hope were you to wither in her heartthis religion which is her whole comfort. Firmly attached to itsteachings, absolutely convinced that all the blows leveled againstit are nothing but libertinage's effects and the passions', am I tosacrifice, to blasphemies, to sophistries horrible to me, myheart's sweetest sustenance ?" I added a thousand other argumentsto this one, they merely caused the Count to laugh, and hiscaptious principles, nourished by a more male eloquence, supportedby readings and studies I, happily, had never performed, dailyattacked my own principles, without shaking them. Madame deBressac, that woman filled with piety and virtue, was not unawareher nephew justified his wild behav
