Father Girard was a celebrated preacher in one of the most noted cities of France; a man of ready elocution, handsome person, and a lively eye, which was generally roving among the female part of his audience. As he was one day preaching and searching after hearts instead of God, and striving by wanton ogles to make proselytes to love instead of religion, he happened to fix his eyes on a beautiful young lady named Agatha, wife to a physician called Bernard, and was immediately enamoured with her. The lady was so very devout, that she had her eye constantly fixed on those of the preacher; but notwithstanding the zeal of her devotion, she could not help perceiving that he was handsome, and secretly wished Mons.

Bernard, her husband, was not less agreeable. When the sermon was ended, Agatha addressed Father Girard to give her confession, who was not a little pleased at hearing so favourable an opportunity to discover his passion. Girard, seated in the confessional chair, heard a short detail of her own sins; but then she began a long account of those of her husband — age, neglect, inability, and lastly jealousy, were reckoned up as cardinal vices. The father confessor, with an amorous grin, replied: Jealousy, madam, is a passion which can scarce be avoided by that happy person who possesses so divine a creature as yourself. Agatha smiled, and, thinking it time to return to some female friends, who were waiting for her, desired absolution.